Page 56 of Ruthless Bond

And yet. And yet.

I pick up my phone. I put it down. I pick it up again. I should call her up here, right now, and sit her down and say the words. I should tell her about the wolves and the bond and the mark and her father and everything I’ve been hoarding in the dark. I should do it today.

My phone buzzes. Lex.

“The federal analyst requested property tax records for three additional buildings,” he says. “All Voronov-owned. She’s cross-referencing ownership timelines with corporate officer listings. She’s building a genealogy.”

“A genealogy.”

“A family tree. She’s mapping which Voronov appears on which property record in which year, and she’s looking for patterns. If she goes back far enough, she’ll find the same names repeating on a cycle that doesn’t match a normal human generational timeline.”

The walls are closing in from every direction. Federal investigator building a family tree from property records. Sophia building a financial map from the inside. Roman demanding disclosure. Viktor advising the same. And me, sitting at the center of all of it, holding secrets that are beginning to poison everything I’ve built.

“Can we get ahead of her?” I ask.

“I’ve been altering the digital records, but the physical archives at the county clerk’s office are harder to reach. She could pull original documents that predate our digital modifications. If she does, the facial recognition issue from the old photographs becomes secondary. The names themselves will tell the story.”

“How long do we have?”

“Weeks. Maybe a month, depending on how fast she works and whether her supervisor gives her additional resources.”

I hang up. I sit in my office and I look at the city through my window and I think about time. About how much of it I’ve had, over a century of years, and how little of it I have now. Weeks. Maybe a month. Before the federal analyst connects the dots that will force the pack into a crisis of exposure.

I need to tell her.

The conclusion is obvious.

The timing isn’t.

Sophia is already deep inside the company’s financial structure. The federal government is circling our identity records. DeSanto is testing territory. Viktor is withholding something about Marco.

If I tell her tonight, I give her pieces of a truth I don’t completely possess myself. I don’t do partial intelligence. I don’t walk into negotiations without knowing the board.

So I make a decision.

I will find out exactly what happened to Marco. Then I will tell Sophia everything. Once. Completely.

She’ll hate that I’ve waited. I can live with that. What I won’t do is hand my mate half a truth and call it honesty.

I pull out my phone. I text her.

Me: Come over tonight. I’ll cook.

The response comes in thirty seconds.

Sophia: Only if you promise not to burn the risotto again.

Me: That was your fault.

Sophia: My fault? You’re the one who started kissing my neck while I was stirring.

Me: You stopped stirring.

Sophia: You made stirring impossible.

Me: Tonight. Seven. Wear something that comes off easily.

Sophia: Romantic.