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Ian’s face split into an exaggerated look of surprise, his scarred eyebrow lifting dramatically.
“It’s a misunderstanding.” He pressed a hand to his chest, feigning innocence. “This is quite embarrassing. My men just arrived here and already they’ve offended Mr. Haxton. Truly
unforgivable.”
I could practically smell the bullshit. His theatrical apology was clearly meant to mock rather than
placate. The way his men positioned themselves around the perimeter–hands resting not–so-
casually on their weapons–told the real story.
Ethan remained perfectly still, only the slight narrowing of his eyes betraying his irritation. “Return what you took exactly as you took it,” he said, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “If anything is
missing, you’ll regret setting foot on Venezuelan soil.”
The tension in the air thickened. Connor shifted slightly behind Ethan, his stance widening into a
more defensive position.
Ian waved his hand dismissively. “These supplies,” he gestured toward the wooden crates, “consider
them my gift to Mr. Haxton. A token of goodwill as I establish my presence here.” His smile didn’t
reach his eyes. “Venezuela offers many opportunities these days.”
“I’m not interested in your gifts,” Ethan interrupted coldly. “And this region isn’t welcoming to
newcomers. You have 72 hours to pack your bags and leave. Immediately.”
Ian’s fake smile faltered, a flash of genuine anger crossing his features before he recomposed
himself. “Is it Mr. Haxton who doesn’t welcome me, or the entire region?” He leaned forward,
challenge evident in his posture.
“Is there a difference?” Ethan countered, not backing down an inch. “In this part of the world, I make
the rules.”
Ian’s jaw tightened. “Mr. Haxton, one shouldn’t be too arrogant. An overly large appetite can be…
fatal.”
“Are you volunteering to be eaten?” Ethan’s voice remained calm, but there was something lethal in his tone. “Because I assure you, I have quite the appetite for dealing with those who cross me.”
The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees. lan’s men shifted uneasily, hands moving to grip their automatic rifles more firmly. Connor and the other security personnel
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immediately formed a human wall around Ethan and me.
“You came to my compound with this pathetic security detail,” Ian hissed, his theatrical facade crumbling. “Your overconfidence will be your undoing, Mr. Haxton!”
Just as the first rifle safeties clicked off, my phone blasted a notification sound that seemed obscenely loud in the tense silence. Everyone froze, heads swiveling toward me.
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“Princeton admission results will be posted at midnight tonight. Remember to send me a screenshot when you check!” The cheerful voice message echoed in the suddenly quiet room.
I glanced up to find everyone staring at me, expressions ranging from confusion to disbelief.
“Sorry,” I shrugged, casually checking my phone. “The signal here sucks.”
I continued scrolling through my notifications as if we weren’t all seconds away from a bloodbath. In my peripheral vision, I could see Connor looking at me like I’d grown a second head. How could anyone be checking their phone at a moment like this?
But the interruption had broken the deadly momentum, giving everyone a moment to reconsider the consequences of what they were about to do.
Ian studied me with renewed interest, his anger temporarily displaced by curiosity.
“You,” he said, switching to heavily accented English, “remind me of someone I knew. American girl,
in Russia.”
I looked up, feigning mild interest while carefully observing the jagged scar running across his left eye. That scar had been Night’s work–punishment for when Ian had made unwelcome advances toward me in my previous life. Night had expelled him from Russia afterward, marking him as
permanently unwelcome in that territory.
“She was much prettier than you,” Ian added with a dismissive wave.
“Thanks,” I replied flatly.
My response clearly caught him off guard, Connor looked equally confused by my reaction to what was clearly meant as an insult.
The standoff continued for several more tense moments before I decided to take advantage of the broken tension. “I need to use the restroom,” I announced.
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Ethan looked like he wanted to object, but I was already standing.
“Connor can escort you,” he suggested, clearly concerned about letting me wander alone.
“No need,” I said firmly. “I’ll find it myself.”
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