Chapter 4 - THE SHADOW OF VICTOR MOREAU
Before Dora could digest the weight of Victor’s words, the heavy oak doors of the dining room rattled open.
Lev stepped into the room, his tactical earpiece glowing blue, his face tighter than usual. He didn't look at Dora; he walked straight to Victor’s side and leaned down, whispering into his ear.
Victor’s hand stopped on his coffee cup.
The warmth in his eyes vanished, replaced in an instant by the cold, murderous stillness Dora had seen on the ballroom floor.
“When?” Victor asked, his voice dropping an octave.
“Twenty minutes ago,” Lev replied quietly. “They pulled a body out of the harbor near Pier 4. It’s Kevin.”
Dora’s heart slammed into her throat. “Kevin? My... my manager from the temp agency?”
Victor turned his head slowly toward her, his expression unreadable.
“Moreau,” Victor said softly. “Kevin was the one who called the temp agency yesterday morning demanding you specifically be assigned to the VIP table near the swan.”
Dora felt the room spin. “What? No... Kevin was just a low-level floor supervisor. He hated me!”
“He didn't hate you, Dora,” Victor corrected her, his pale eyes narrowing. “He was paid twenty thousand dollars by a Moreau lieutenant three days ago to make sure you were in that ballroom tonight, in that specific uniform, at that specific time.”
“Why?” Dora gasped, her hands gripping the edge of the mahogany table.
“Because Moreau knew who you were,” Victor explained, his voice flat with terrifying realization. “He’s been tracking my movements since the night I was stabbed. He couldn't reach me behind my security perimeter, so he waited until I went to a public event. He used Jessica Trent’s old grudge against you to create a scene, hoping I would react and reveal how much you meant to me.”
“And you did,” Dora whispered, horror dawning on her face as she looked at the newspaper headline. “You kissed my hand in front of the whole city.”
“I didn't do it because he set a trap,” Victor said, standing up from the table, his tall frame casting a long shadow across the room. “I did it because if I hadn't stepped in, Moreau’s men standing in the service hallway would have grabbed you the moment you walked out the back door.”
He walked around the table, stopping right beside her chair.
“Kevin served his purpose, so Moreau killed him to cut the string,” Victor continued, placing his hands on the back of her chair, leaning down until his breath brushed her ear. “Moreau wanted to use you as leverage against me. He thought you were a weak point.”
“Am I?” Dora asked, looking up into his eyes, refusing to shrink back.
May you like
Victor stared down at her—at the quiet, unyielding strength that had kept her alive through poverty, humiliation, and cold winter nights.
“No,” Victor murmured, a dangerous, dark pride flickering in his gaze. “You are the blade I’m going to cut his throat with.”
