I found evidence that Ms. Anya had been in communication with Brandon Marlowe," Luca explained, his voice low, cautious, as though even speaking the na aloud might summon consequences.
The office was dim despite the late afternoon sun pressing against the tinted windows. Honey preferred it that way. Light revealed too much. Darkness allowed her to think.
Luca continued, flipping open a thin folder in front of him.
"I have a friend who worked on the murder case. He said they recovered a second phone from Anya’s apartnt. It wasn’t logged into evidence officially, but it contained weeks of ssages between her and Marlowe."
Honey didn’t look up imdiately. She tapped her manicured fingers against the polished mahogany desk in a slow, rhythmic pattern.
"And?" she prompted.
"And the tone of the ssages wasn’t casual," Luca added carefully. "They argued. She threatened to expose sothing. He tried to calm her down. The night she died, there were seven missed calls from him."
Honey finally lifted her eyes.
"If that was true, then why were there no arrests?" she asked.
Luca exhaled through his nose.
"The evidence was suppressed." He shook his head, frustration bleeding through his controlled deanor. "It happens all the ti. Evidence is found, then it disappears. Witnesses recant. Files get reassigned. Then the case becos a cold case."
Silence stretched across the room.
Honey leaned back in her chair, folding one leg over the other.
She did not really care about so model’s murder.
She did not care if Brandon Marlowe was a serial killer with a hundred bodies stacked neatly in designer closets across the city.
Morality was a luxury she had long ago stopped entertaining.
What she wanted, what she needed was leverage.
Sothing tangible.
Sothing undeniable.
Sothing that could wrap around Brandon’s throat like a silk cord and tighten at her command.
Lyse would have been perfect.
Sweet. Visible. Protected.
Threatening Lyse would have forced Brandon into negotiation.
But Levi was not careless.
From everything Honey had observed, Levi did not allow Lyse to move without layers of protection. Surveillance. Guards. Rotating drivers. Even casual outings were monitored.
And if anything were to happen to Lyse...
Levi would co straight for her.
Not with lawyers.
Not with threats.
With war.
No.
That risk was too high.
Honey’s fingers stopped tapping.
She raised her gaze back to Luca.
"That does nothing for ," she said coolly. "I need actual evidence. Sothing that can be placed in front of him. Sothing that will make him sweat."
From the back of the room, a deep voice cut through the controlled air.
"Why don’t we just kidnap him, ma’am?"
All eyes shifted toward Igor.
He stood near the wall like a statue carved from granite. Massive shoulders. Thick forearms. A faint scar tracing from his temple down toward his jaw. His expression was blank, but his eyes carried a brutal practicality.
"If you gave a chance to take care of him," Igor continued calmly, "he would imdiately spill all his secrets."
Luca visibly stiffened.
There was no doubt in his mind that Igor knew exactly how to extract information from a man. The problem was not capability.
It was fallout.
Honey sighed, pressing two fingers lightly to her temple.
"We can’t just go around kidnapping people, Igor."
A faint smirk tugged at Igor’s mouth.
"We tried that already, didn’t we?" she added dryly, rolling her eyes.
The air shifted slightly. A reminder of a past operation that had not ended cleanly.
"If this were our city," Honey continued, "we could request a quiet arrest. Ask the police to detain him on a financial technicality. But here?" She shook her head. "Here, we thread carefully."
Brandon Marlowe was not a small fish.
He had donors.
Political connections.
Law enforcent ties.
Pulling him into a basent sowhere would ignite attention they could not afford.
"Just tell what you’ve gotten from surveillance," Honey ordered.
Igor stepped forward and dropped a thicker file onto the desk.
The sound echoed softly.
Honey opened it.
Photographs.
Ti stamps.
Receipts.
Maps.
"Routine is inconsistent," Igor explained. "He changes routes frequently. Uses multiple vehicles. Most tis drives himself. Sotis hires a service. He rotates drivers."
"Paranoid?" Honey murmured.
"Yes," Igor confird. "And increasingly so. I believe he suspects he’s being followed."
She flipped to another photograph.
Brandon stepping out of a restaurant.
A blurred image of a woman beside him.
Honey’s eyes narrowed.
"He t with so girl," Igor continued. "We haven’t identified her yet. No social dia footprint. No clear background. She doesn’t appear in public records linked to him."
"That’s unusual," Luca muttered.
"It is," Honey agreed.
She studied the woman’s silhouette.
Young. Slim. Hair pulled back. Face partially obscured by oversized sunglasses.
The eting location changed across the pages.
A café.
A hotel bar.
A private gallery event.
Different settings.
Sa woman.
"He t her three tis in one weeks," Igor added. "Short etings. Always in semi-public places."
"Intimate?" Honey asked.
Igor shook his head.
"No visible affection. No hand holding. No overt body language."
Honey leaned back slowly.
Not a lover.
Not random.
Possibly an interdiary.
Or a problem.
"Has he made any unusual financial movents?" she asked.
Luca shuffled through his notes.
"Two offshore transfers last week. Larger than usual. Routed through a shell company registered six months ago."
Honey’s interest sharpened.
"That’s better."
Money left trails.
Money told stories.
Money could be frozen.
"What about Anya’s tiline?" she asked. "Any financial exchanges between them?"
"Not directly," Luca replied. "But there was a trust fund set up in her na shortly before her death."
Honey’s lips curved slightly.
"And who funded it?"
"We’re still tracing it."
Honey closed the file slowly.
Brandon Marlowe was careful.
But no one was perfect.
He was hiding sothing.
And the mystery woman was likely the key.
"Shift focus," Honey ordered. "I want everything on her."
Igor nodded once.
"We’ve enhanced the images. Running facial reconstruction."
"Dig deeper," Honey said. "Facial recognition, traffic caras, paynt logs near each eting location. I want her identified within forty-eight hours."
"Yes, ma’am."
Honey rose from her chair and walked toward the window, staring out at the city skyline.
Power humd beneath it.
Deals being made.
Secrets being buried.
Lives being traded.
She did not need to destroy Brandon.
She only needed to own him.
Once she knew what he feared losing
She could make him dance.
Behind her, Luca cleared his throat.
"There’s one more thing."
She didn’t turn.
"Speak."
"The last eting. It wasn’t public."
That made her pivot slowly.
"Explain."
"He went to a private storage facility on the outskirts of the city. No caras inside. She arrived separately. They stayed for forty minutes."
Igor’s voice lowered.
"When he ca out, he looked... unsettled."
Honey’s eyes glead.
Storage units were rarely innocent.
"What’s in the unit?" she asked.
"We’re working on access," Igor replied. "Discreetly."
Honey’s mind was already moving ahead.
If Brandon had hidden sothing
Docunts.
Cash.
Evidence.
Or hopefully
What she needed was there.
"Don’t rush it," she said. "I want it done cleanly. No alarms. No suspicion."
Igor inclined his head.
"And if he discovers us first?" Luca asked quietly.
Honey smiled.
Then we accelerate.
"If he’s paranoid," she said softly, "we feed it."
Luca frowned.
"How?"
"Anonymous ssages," she replied. "Subtle. Suggestive. Let him think soone knows."
Igor’s eyes lit with understanding.
"Pressure makes n careless."
"Exactly."
Honey returned to her desk and closed the file decisively.
"No kidnapping," she said firmly, glancing at Igor. "Not yet."
He gave a faint nod.
"But prepare for escalation," she added.
The room grew still.
Honey’s voice dropped, smooth and deliberate.
"Because if that storage unit contains what I think it does..."
Her smile deepened.
"Then Brandon Marlowe will beg us not to ruin him."
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