The Volki

Chapter Nine, Monti Power

After saying goodbye to Massimo, I called Sergey, to pick me up at the front of Monti Incorporation. While waiting in the lobby, I watched the rain pour down in steady sheets through the glass doors. It blurred the city outside, turning the streets into a frantic mess. People waved desperately for cabs, sprinting through puddles, hunched over as they covered their heads with whatever they could find—briefcases, jackets—anything to stay dry.

I sat down, trying to mind my own business as I passed the time. But out of the corner of my eye, I saw them—the three women I could barely stand, heading my way. Only this time, they weren't alone. They had three security guards with them. All of them were walking straight toward me

"You've got to be kidding me," I muttered under my breath in Italian, my irritation growing as I braced for whatever nonsense was about to unfold.

The guards looked calm and professional, like they had done this a hundred times before. The first guard, standing right in the center, was probably in his fifties—muscular, with short brunette hair. He seemed to be the one in charge, especially with the dark blue tie that set him apart from the other two who wore plain black. The second guard, on the left, was almost as tall but had a rougher look, a light beard, and eyes that were far more intense. His hand hovered close to the Glock at his waist, like he was ready to use it, the second something went wrong. The third guard, the youngest by far, had a trendy undercut hairstyle and seemed to be watching the first guy for cues. He was nervous—probably his first day on the job.

"Ma'am, I need you to come with me," the first guard said, his voice steady but not giving anything away.

"Is there a problem?" I asked, trying to keep my voice level.

"Please, Ma'am, just come with me," he repeated, as though I hadn't spoken.

I wasn't about to move without some answers. "What is this about?"

"There's been an incident, and we need to talk to you," the bearded guard snapped. His tone wasn't as neutral as his colleague's, and I could feel the tension in the air getting thicker.

Before I could respond, Simona, from across the room, yelled, "There's no point in denying it! I already called the police!"

Without warning, the first guard reached out to grab my arm, but Sergey stepped in, quick and solid, blocking his path.

"Back off," Sergey growled, his tone dangerous. He was always calm, but when he wasn't, things usually went sideways fast.

"Sir, please step aside," the lead guard demanded, his authority faltering slightly.

"I can't do that," Sergey said, firmly planted between us.

"Sergey," I warned, hoping to de-escalate this mess, but he wasn't budging.

"Sir, we're just doing our job. Please cooperate," the second guard said, his hand drifting closer to his weapon.

Sergey didn't flinch. "I'm doing my job too."

The younger guard scoffed, clearly rattled. "You think you're above the law?"

"Just wait until the police get here!" the second one chimed in, his frustration spilling over.

I took a deep breath, keeping my voice steady. "We'll be waiting right here and nowhere else."

"Fine," the youngest guard said, trying to sound tougher than he was. "But don't try to leave."

Sergey leaned in closer, speaking softly in Russian. "Boss, may I speak freely?"

"Go ahead," I whispered, not taking my eyes off the guards.