presented a good target. He often stood in front of the window in a kind of defiance of his father. Lazar was getting closer. He didn’t know how, but he felt him. It had been many years since he’d woken from a sound sleep to find his father standing over him, looking as if he might kill his son. Usually, he’d gotten off with a beating for not being aware of danger close. Those incidents had honed his survival skills. Now, he knew Lazar was not only in the country but somewhere close. He stood at the window, looking out toward the hills, wondering if someone was up there with a sniper rifle.
“Mitya, get the fuck away from the window,” Sevastyan snapped, entering the room through a side door. “Vikenti and Zinoviy found some tracks up in the hills just about three miles from the house. We backtracked them to the road. Someone is nosing around.”
“Who?” Mitya asked, turning toward his cousin. Sevastyan was a master at reading tracks. If someone from his father’s lair in Russia had left those tracks, he would recognize them.
“Get away from the fuckin’ window and I’ll tell you.” Sevastyan turned his back on Mitya and walked across the room. The pool players put down their cues and suddenly were paying close attention, watching the drama unfold between the cousins.
Mitya scowled at his head of security. “Are you going to ever get over it?”
“Probably not. Next time, I’ll cut out your fuckin’ heart and be done with it,” Sevastyan snapped. “I decide where our people go, not you, otherwise this is a waste of my time.” He stalked over to the other side of the room, picked up a bottle of bourbon, poured a small amount in a glass and tossed it back.
Mitya had never seen Sevastyan do that. Not ever. He kept his shit tight at all times. He really had angered his cousin, and for the last couple of days, Sevastyan had been curt to the point of rudeness. And he was right. Sevastyan was head of security. He was responsible for Mitya’s safety and now Ania’s. He would be responsible for the safety of their children when they had them. He hadn’t been fair to his cousin.
He walked away from the window and sat at the table they’d set up in order to have a meeting. “You’re right, Sevastyan. I was wrong.” That was difficult to admit aloud, especially in front of his other cousins, their bodyguards and Joshua with his, but Sevastyan deserved it. He was dedicated and thorough. He risked his life over and over in order to keep Mitya safe. “It won’t happen again.”
Sevastyan wasn’t a man to make another grovel. He merely nodded and then dimmed the lights in the room. He had already sent instructions to his men to be vigilant, keep in constant contact and add extra patrols along the hills where a sniper could sit with a rifle and maybe get a decent shot at them.
The others gathered around the table. Joshua didn’t ask questions, he just waited to see what the summons was all about.
“Aside from the fact that Lazar is definitely in the country and close by, we have a new enemy,” Mitya began. “One we have no idea of. He appears to be working in the background, close to or using Drake Donovan to plant his people in every one of our territories—more specifically, right with our security. We all use shifters to guard our families. There aren’t that many, and few are trained in the way Donovan trains them. Every one of us takes his recommendations.”
Mitya reached for the pitcher of ice water. “I wish I could tell you I know a lot more about this enemy, but I don’t. Only that they’re powerful enough that rather than be taken prisoner, they will suicide.”
His cousins had been as shocked at that as he had. Shifters didn’t take their own lives, not when that meant killing their leopard as well. It wasn’t done. He recapped to bring Joshua up to speed. “I was attacked, although Ania was with me so she may have been the target. They came at us in cars. It was a very coordinated attack.” He glanced at Sevastyan.
His cousin didn’t like the spotlight. He had been groomed to take over his father’s lair when Rolan died, but he hadn’t wanted the cruelty of the lair any more than Mitya had wanted any part of his father’s lair. Sevastyan