Stoking the Fire (Salus Security #1) - Teodora Kostova Page 0,27

trained on me as if I’m a bomb about to go off. Slowly, he rises to his feet, and I have to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact. I don’t step back, though. He may have a good five inches on me, but I’ve never been intimidated by his size. If anything, he always made me feel safe.

I shake my head, annoyed at the unwelcome thought.

“The contract is substantial, true, but we’ve grown a lot in the past three years. I always planned to come back home and leave Mark to run operations on the West Coast. When your father called last week, it only accelerated arrangements already put in motion.” He folds his arms and eyes me with a raised eyebrow. “I know it’s hard to even imagine, but not everything is about you, Zach.”

He can say so many things to hurt me back, to hurl my decisions back in my face just like I did. But he doesn’t.

The realization makes the anger slowly leak out of me. But I’m not ready to let it; not yet.

I fold my arms to mimic his pose and give him the most withering glare I can muster. “Yeah? I thought this whole thing was about me, Alec. After all, my safety is at stake.”

And then it hits me. Something he said. Something that’s about to slip through the cracks of the conversation but is too important to ignore.

“Wait. What do you mean, last week?”

Alec blinks, confused.

“When you said my father called you last week?”

“What about it?”

“The attack on the Dawn office happened today.”

By the look on his face, he still isn’t getting it.

“My father said he was increasing security because of the attack. But it happened today. How could he have called you last week?”

Alec runs a hand through his short hair. “He didn’t tell you about the death threats?”

“He did, but he played it off as a prank.”

Alec is shaking his head before I even finished speaking.

“The address they were sent from is so well encrypted that even our tech guys couldn’t find out where the emails were sent from or any clue as to who might have sent them. This is not an online troll, Zach. Someone with a lot of resources went through a lot of trouble to send those emails.”

I puff out my cheeks, heart pounding.

This isn’t the first time my family has been targeted, but for the first time, it seems… real. Tangible. And really fucking scary.

“And—” Alec chews on his lip, studying me.

“And?”

“And the threats were very specific. Someone knows your schedule at the university, your mom’s travel plans, your dad’s scheduled meetings, Evie’s hospital appointment times.”

A chill runs through my whole body. For the first time since I was called back here, I feel genuinely afraid.

I wrap my arms around my body to stop it from shivering and feel the last of the fight drain out of me.

Alec’s right. This isn’t about me. This is about my family. If it means keeping everyone safe, I’ll have to get over myself and accept that Alec’s just doing his job. Nothing more. The past is in the past.

“Okay,” I say, not meeting Alec’s eyes. “I’ll do what you want me to do.”

Chapter fifteen

The car crawls down Park Avenue, the late afternoon traffic clogging most of Manhattan. It’ll be so much faster to hop on the subway, but no. I’m not allowed to do that, and I promised I’d cooperate.

In the back of the black SUV, my head swims with so many questions: Why was Evie so happy to see Alec? Sure, they were friendly when we were dating, but she’s never shown any special affection for him before.

Why is this happening now? The timing seems convenient but not particularly logical to me. Every single issue of Dawn is controversial in its own way; every publication under the Van Dorf Media Group umbrella prides itself on taking risks, backing the underdog, and unapologetically sharing unpopular opinions on divisive topics. The white supremacist groups are on the rise, gaining more power and more funding, not bound to the shadows anymore. But why now? None of this is new. It’s an ongoing issue. What’s the catalyst?

The driver—Paul—jumps on the brakes when someone runs in front of the car to cross the road. He doesn’t react when the man slams his palms on the hood and then flips him off while shouting a creative curse.

Alec glances at me in the rearview mirror, our eyes meeting for a fleeting second