Chapter 6 - The Photograph
The photograph had been taken through Odessa’s apartment window 8 months earlier.
She was asleep on her sofa.
That frightened her more than the shooting.
A bullet was violence.
A photograph was patience.
Victor Saran had been watching her long before the missing container.
“Why?” Odessa asked.
Anton studied the photograph.
“I don’t know.”
Luka spread documents across the conference table.
“We traced Victor’s interest back almost a year.”
Odessa frowned.
“But I wasn’t important a year ago.”
Anton looked at her.
“You were working outside my office.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It may be enough.”
Luka opened another folder.
Inside were photographs of several employees.
Graham.
Odessa.
Priscilla.
A security supervisor.
“Victor was identifying access points.”
Odessa pointed at Priscilla.
“She’s involved?”
“We don’t know.”
Anton’s expression darkened.
“Bring her in.”
Priscilla arrived terrified.
For once, she had nothing sarcastic to say.
Luka placed her photograph on the table.
She went white.
“I’ve never seen that.”
“Do you know Victor Saran?”
“No.”
“Grant Hollis?”
“No.”
Odessa watched her.
Something was wrong.
Not guilt.
Recognition.
“Priscilla.”
The younger woman looked at her.
“You know something.”
Priscilla’s eyes filled.
“My father.”
Anton leaned forward.
“What about him?”
“He works for Meridian Coastal.”
Silence.
Priscilla began crying.
“He got me the internship. He said Kazarian was a good company and that I should pay attention to shipments. I thought he meant learn the business.”
“What did you tell him?” Anton asked.
“Schedules. Meetings. Nothing classified.”
Odessa remembered all the times Priscilla had hovered around her desk.
The coffee.
The questions.
The comments.
“Did he ask about me?”
Priscilla looked ashamed.
“Yes.”
Anton’s voice became dangerous.
“What did you tell him?”
“That Odessa handled your documents. That she knew your schedule. That she never took vacation.”
Odessa almost laughed at the last part.
Even criminals had apparently noticed her work ethic.
Priscilla wiped her face.
“I didn’t know.”
Odessa believed her.
Anton did not appear inclined toward forgiveness.
“Fire her,” he told Luka.
Priscilla sobbed.
Odessa surprised everyone.
“No.”
Anton turned.
“No?”
“She was stupid, not malicious.”
“Stupidity can kill people.”
“So can cruelty.”
His eyes narrowed.
Odessa continued.
“Move her somewhere without access. Let her prove whether she deserves another chance.”
“This isn’t a charity.”
“No. It’s a company.”
“You’re defending someone who humiliated you.”
Odessa looked at Priscilla.
“Maybe I’m tired of women being taught the only way to feel valuable is to make another woman feel smaller.”
Priscilla began crying harder.
Anton stared at Odessa.
Then sighed.
“Transfer her.”
Luka smiled faintly.
“Look at that. Personal growth.”
“Leave.”
“Yes, boss.”
That evening, Anton found Odessa on his balcony.
Savannah’s lights glowed beyond the trees.
“You saved her job.”
“I saved her opportunity to become less annoying.”
Anton stood beside her.
“Why?”
“Because someone gave me chances.”
“Who?”
“My grandmother.”
Odessa smiled.
“She used to say humiliation doesn’t teach people anything except how to hide mistakes.”
“Smart woman.”
“She would have hated you.”
Anton laughed.
The sound surprised Odessa.
“Why?”
“She distrusted men who owned too many black cars.”
“Reasonable.”
They stood quietly.
Anton’s hand brushed hers.
Odessa threaded their fingers together.
He looked down.
Then at her.
“What are we doing?”
She smiled.
“You tell me. You’re usually the controlling one.”
“I don’t want to control this.”
The sincerity disarmed her.
“What do you want?”
“You.”
Her heartbeat accelerated.
Anton immediately added, “But not because I noticed you in a dress.”
“Good answer.”
“I noticed you before.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“When?”
“Your first month.”
“You barely spoke to me.”
“That doesn’t mean I didn’t notice.”
“Then why pretend?”
Anton looked toward the city.
“Because everyone close to me becomes a target.”
Odessa thought about Anahid.
“You decided distance was protection.”
“Yes.”
“And how did that work?”
He looked at the photograph of Odessa still lying on the table inside.
“Badly.”
She squeezed his hand.
Anton turned toward her.
This kiss was slower.
Warmer.
When they separated, Odessa smiled.
“Still terrifying.”
“You kissed me.”
“I contain multitudes.”
His phone buzzed.
Anton read the message.
His expression changed.
Odessa sighed.
“I’m beginning to hate your phone.”
“You may hate this more.”
He handed it to her.
A photograph filled the screen.
Victor Saran stood outside Kazarian Import and Freight.
Beside him was Grant.
May you like
And beneath the photograph were 6 words.
Bring Odessa, or employees start dying.
