Chapter 8

Ethan's POV

I was in my room, a cup of coffee in one hand. Zadok was sitting opposite me, and we were surrounded by a chaotic mess of papers and scattered thoughts. The soft ruffling of papers filled the room, but my attention was elsewhere. I was thinking about Emily: the last time we'd seen was when my mother had visited, and that was two days ago already. I knew my mother was capable of killing anyone's spirit with her words, Emily not excluded.

"The records are good, boss." Zadok commented, pulling me out of my reverie. "Things have been looking up."

I nodded absentmindedly and took a sip of my morning brew. Sunlight filtered through the window behind me and warmed my neck. I rubbed my hand over the warm patch of skin, then picked up a file on the coffee table. I opened it and stared in satisfaction at the numbers on the sheaf of papers.

Three million fucking dollars spent on shipping a couple of arms across the Atlantic, much less than we spent only three months ago. I was extrem