Page 24 of Pretty Little Assassin

“He used his time in prison productively,” I tell her. “He found every person with a need or vulnerability who has someone outside that could do a favour or needed a favour and wheeled and dealed. Following all the threads was…convoluted.”

Her teeth clench, and the alpha urge to protect flashes through me as I scent fear cutting into her floral vanilla. I ignore it. This pint-sized, potent killing machine doesn't need me. “The man is a monster,” she says. Disgust rolls off her, and I am apparently attuned to minute shifts in her emotional responses. “I shouldn’t be surprised. He did the same thing in business. He belongs in prison, not running the Primacy.” The words twist her mouth as if they taste of rot.

“How much do you know about his history?” I ask.

“What do you mean?”

“I investigated him while you napped.”

“I wasn’t napping. You rendered me unconscious.”

“Semantics.”

“Is there any part of my life you haven’t dug into, Viktor?”

The cat rolls across my bed, grinding orange hair into the sheets as I force my attention back to her.

“You were not his first stepdaughter.”

Valentina goes still. More fear, with notes of copper, enters the jasmine vanilla mix. “What?”

“Your stepfather was married several times before your mother. One of those women also had a daughter.”

Her fingers stop against the open bag. Her scent deepens, and I ignore the fact that I notice.

“What was her name? How old was she? What happened to her? Where is she now?”

I scent her distress. I’d better get a handle on this before she kills me when I’m not looking. “Which one do you want me to answer?”

“Answer the fucking questions.”

Her spirited response, even as I smell her fear, triggers a new pheromone surge in me. I tell myself I spoke rudely to make her dislike me, but the immediate arousal I feel when she sasses me back reveals I'm lying to myself. This room is fucking drenched in alpha and omega scent.

“Someone removed her name from the surviving records, but they missed the money. A large payment moved from an alpha’s holding company to your stepfather shortly before the girl disappeared. The documents call it a family settlement.” I watch her closely.

“He sold her.” Her face gives away nothing. Only her scent tells me anything. I saw her holding the suppressants. I packed them.

“Yes.”

“She couldn’t have simply vanished. Everyone leaves traces. You of all people should know that. I thought you prided yourself on never missing a beat.”

Touché.

“There are traces. I have not found them yet.” I glance at the cat. “I have been occupied saving you and your overweight accomplice.”

Mr. Pickles hisses lazily from his new position on the bed. Somehow, he has managed to turn half the black sweater orange.

Before Valentina can respond, her phone makes a sound unlike the other irritating buzzes and chimes it has produced since she woke.

The moment she reads the screen, every trace of colour leaves her face.

Even Mr. Pickles stops licking his ass to study her.

Her scent changes before her expression does. A cold edge of fear cuts through the jasmine, then disappears beneath heat. Her fingers tighten around the phone, and my hand curls once at my side before I force it open.

I have catalogued fear in hundreds of people. Hers goes in behind my ribs and turns violent.

“What did Madam send?”