It would take time. Weeks, maybe months. But it would be safer than the reckless approach I’d taken, and less likely to result in both of us getting executed for treason.
By the time I left the club, it was past midnight, and my head felt heavy with vodka and the weight of impossible choices. I pulled out my phone and saw three missed calls from Cassandra and a text that made my chest tighten.
Vance wants to meet. Tonight. I told him no, but he’s pushing hard. I don’t know how much longer I can stall him.
I typed back immediately:Don’t meet him. Don’t go anywhere alone. I’m working on something, but I need time.
The response came thirty seconds later:I don’t have time. He knows about us. Has been watching. If I don’t give him something soon, he’s going to burn everything down.
Fuck.
I stood there on the sidewalk outside the club, feeling the cold Chicago wind cut through my jacket, and tried to calculate our options. Vance knew about us. Had been surveilling Cassandra, which meant he probably had evidence of our relationship. Evidence he could use to pressure her, to force her hand, to make her choose between loyalty to him and whatever this thing was between us.
And Rafael was putting surveillance on her, too. Closing in from the other side. Tightening the noose around both our necks while we fumbled in the dark, trying to find a way out.
We were running out of time. Running out of options. Running out of moves that didn’t end in blood.
I called her. She answered on the first ring.
“Where are you?” I asked.
“Home. Why?”
“Pack a bag. Not much. Just essentials. Meet me at the private airfield in two hours.”
“Drew, what—”
“Seattle,” I said, cutting her off. “We’re going to Seattle. Going to talk to Father Vincent, find out what he knows about your father, about the investigation, about everything. And we’re doing it before Vance or Rafael can stop us.”
Silence on the other end. Then, quietly: “You’re risking everything for this.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
Because I couldn’t watch her destroy herself trying to find answers alone. Because the truth mattered more than loyalty to an organization built on lies. Because somewhere in the pastsix weeks, she’d stopped being a complication and started being the only thing that felt real in a world of carefully constructed facades.
“Because you deserve to know,” I said simply. “And because I’m tired of watching people I care about suffer for sins they didn’t commit.”
Another pause. Longer this time.
“Two hours,” she said finally. “I’ll be there.”
The line went dead.
I stood there holding my phone, feeling the weight of the decision settle into my bones like concrete. ’’This was the point of no return: the moment I stopped being Rafael’s cousin, Kirill’s best friend, and the reliable temp who followed orders and kept his distance.
This was where I became something else. Something dangerous.
Someone who chose love over loyalty. Truth over family. A girl with broken edges over the organization that had shaped my entire existence.
Kirill’s voice echoed in my head:Either you’re loyal to the Bratva, or you’re loyal to her. You can’t be both.
He was right.
And I’d just made my choice.
I pulled up Damir’s number and sent a quick text:Need you to cover for me for a few days. Tell Rafael I’m following up on the Seattle leads. Don’t ask questions.
