Se connecterPOV: DIMITRIThe West Village was still dark, that pre-dawn darkness that made the city look like it belonged to someone else entirely.Marco stood in the command center, a nondescript van parked two blocks from the yoga studio with surveillance equipment that cost more than most people's houses. Banks of monitors showed feeds from four different angles: the studio entrance, the interior main room, the reception area, and the water bottle/personal items zone.On his earpiece, he heard the confirmations coming through from his operatives."North position set," came the first voice."East position set," came the second."Café interior secured," came the third."Delivery van staged," came the fourth.Six operatives total, positioned in a net around the yoga studio. Two more inside, already there before Angela and Eve arrived...positioned as early morning yogis."All units are green," Marco reported to Dimitri, who was sitting in a separate car three blocks away, monitoring the same feeds
Angela closed her eyes, visualizing the scene."What's my exit strategy?" Angela asked."You arrive with Eve," the voice said. "You greet her. You chat with her briefly. Then you tell her you have an urgent work call and need to step outside. You leave the studio. You go to the coffee shop on the corner, there's one three blocks north. You order a coffee. You sit for fifteen minutes. Then you leave Manhattan completely.""Where do I go?" Angela asked."You have a packet," the voice said. "Passport, credit cards, cash, new identity documentation. It's in a locker at Penn Station. Locker 247. Combination is 14-28-36. You retrieve it after you leave the coffee shop. You take a train, we don't care where, as long as it's not to Rome or anywhere associated with Dante. You disappear.""How much?" Angela asked."One million dollars," the voice said. "Transferred to an offshore account in your new name. You'll have access to it the moment we confirm Eve is dead."One million dollars. Enough t
But what The Covenant didn't know was that he had seen it coming. "Pause that," Dimitri said.Marco paused the audio."Play back the conversation from yesterday," Dimitri said. "The one where Angela specifically mentioned Eve's yoga class on Monday."Marco pulled up the recording from the previous day. The audio filled the penthouse.Angela: "So you're definitely going to that yoga class Monday morning? Even with everything that's been happening?"Eve: "I think I need it. I need some normalcy. Some routine. The 6 AM class at the studio in the West Village."Angela: "That's good. You need to take care of yourself."Eve: "You should come with me sometime."Angela: "Maybe I will."Dimitri stopped the playback."Monday morning," Dimitri said. "6 AM. West Village yoga studio. That's when they'll move.""How are you certain?" Mike asked."Because that's the perfect window," Dimitri said. "Early morning. Private studio. Limited security presence because Eve will be in a public space that se
POV: DIMITRI The penthouse was secure in ways that only Dimitri's resources could make secure.The windows were reinforced glass that couldn't be penetrated from the outside. The walls were soundproofed against external surveillance. The communications equipment was military-grade, encrypted beyond civilian capacity. This was the room where real decisions got made, the room where Dimitri Valentino decided how empires would fall.Dimitri was sitting in the leather chair, a tablet in his hands, monitoring the real-time audio feeds from Eve's phone, her Hermès bag, her diamond earrings, and the custom fabric of her clothing where the listening devices had been sewn so expertly that only someone looking for them would ever find them.Mike and Marco sat across from him.On the tablet's screen, the audio was playing through speakers set to low volume. Eve's voice came through clearly, warm and genuine and completely unaware that she was being recorded by the man she loved."I'm terrified,"
*A Week Later*Madison Avenue on a Tuesday afternoon was the perfect place to gather intelligence.Angela had suggested shopping, framing it as an opportunity to help Eve rediscover her personal style. What it actually was, was an opportunity to map Eve's routines, her preferred stores, her security protocols, and the gaps in her protection.They started at a boutique in Midtown, moving through racks of designer clothing. Angela played the role of stylist, helping Eve try on pieces, offering opinions, building the relationship one dress at a time.But while she was doing that, she was also noting everything.The security detail stayed back, two men positioned near the store entrance, communicating via earpieces. They gave Eve space but maintained clear sightlines. Professional. Competent. But not perfect."You have a gap when you're in the dressing rooms," Angela noted casually while Eve was changing. "Your security can't see you in there. That has to make you feel vulnerable.""I hav
The charity event was held at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, one of those carefully curated affairs where Manhattan's wealthy and connected gathered to feel good about themselves while wearing expensive clothes.Angela arrived at 8:15 PM, dressed in a floor-length black gown that suggested wealth without demanding attention. She moved through the crowd with the ease of someone who belonged in these spaces, even if she'd only recently been introduced to them.She'd been briefed on Eve's schedule. The event. The time she'd arrive. The people she'd likely speak with.Angela positioned herself near the wine bar, nursing a champagne flute, waiting for the moment when their paths would cross.Eve arrived at 8:47 PM.She was beautiful in the way that came from careful styling and absolute certainty, dark hair swept to one side, a sapphire gown that moved like water, the kind of quiet elegance that suggested someone who understood her own power.But there was also something else. A tension a







