~ALEXANDRO’S POV~

Mario’s pacing was a steady rhythm against the ticking clock mounted on the wall. It grated on my already-thin patience, but I didn’t look up from the documents spread out in front of me.

The ledgers were clean now—on paper, at least. The cargo had been accounted for. The Russians thought they were clever. Thought they could steal from me and walk away unscathed.

Idiots.

I had already made an example of the ones stupid enough to stay behind. Their blood was still fresh on my knuckles this morning. I’d washed it off, but I could still feel it. Still smell it.

They keep trying to paint me...