All Chapters of The Enemy’s Playbook: Chapter 1 - Chapter 5

Saint Petersburg, RussiaThe boy across from him stared at the floor like it might crack open and swallow him.“Look up,” Matteo said.The other boy didn’t. His hands tightened around the edge of the plastic table instead, knuckles pale against brown skin.Matteo leaned back in his chair, metal legs scraping softly across the concrete. The visiting hall smelled like disinfectant and boiled cabbage. A hundred voices layered over each other, families pretending they weren’t in a cage with their loved ones, laughter that tried too hard to be real and crying that was swallowed by the noise.“Do you always ignore people,” Matteo went on, bored and sharp, “or is that just for strangers in prison?”The boy finally lifted his head.He had dark lashes, the kind that made people think you were gentle even when you weren’t. A thin scar cut through one eyebrow, still pink. His glasses slid down his nose, and he pushed them back with a nervous tap.“I’m not ignoring you,” he said. “I just… I didn’

Six Years LaterMatteo Antonov did not watch basketball. He watched men, he watched exits and he watched hands.The VIP box hovered above the arena like a glass throne, insulated from the roar below. Dimitri lounged beside him with a beer, one boot propped on the railing.“You haven’t blinked,” Dimitri said. “It’s a game, not a hostage situation.”Matteo’s gaze never left the court. “Men reveal themselves under pressure.”“Sure,” Dimitri replied. “But these ones reveal themselves by missing free throws.”A wave of noise thundered through the stadium as the Thunder Titans stole possession. Sneakers squealed and the scoreboard ticked.Matteo had agreed to this outing under duress. Dimitri had insisted he needed “something normal” after closing an arms deal that had netted them seven figures and a headache.“Breathe,” Dimitri had said. “Touch grass. Watch boys throw balls.”Matteo had nearly shot him.Now he sat, bored, half-listening to the crowd chant.“Number thirteen is good,” Dimitr

Ezra learned the rhythm of Matteo Antonov’s house the way prisoners learn time.By footsteps.Matteo rose before dawn and the estate stirred with him. Guards shifted posts, doors slid open and in the depths of the house, machines hummed to life.Ezra woke to that hum.It crept into his bones. His first morning began with a knock that was not a request.“Up.”Ezra rolled onto his back, blinking at the ceiling. “It’s barely light.”“It’s five.”“So?”“So Matteo Antonov doesn’t wait for the sun.”Ezra swung his legs off the bed. He opened the door to find a man he hadn’t seen before.“I’m Mikhail,” the man said. “You answer to me when he’s busy.”Ezra rubbed his face. “Does he ever not look busy?”Mikhail’s mouth twitched. “You have ten minutes.”“For what?”“Breakfast service.”Ezra stared. “You’re joking.”Mikhail didn’t move.Ezra exhaled through his nose. “Fine. Lead the way, General Doom.”Mikhail turned without comment.The kitchen was already awake.Steel counters gleamed. Chefs m