Rafael’s eyebrow raised slightly. “Before you went against me?”
“I needed proof.” Tears were flowing freely now, and I didn’t bother to wipe them away. “I needed to know for certain that you’d killed my father before I destroyed the only stability I’d ever had. The only family I’d ever known.”
“Except once,” Rafael said, and his voice was like steel.
My stomach dropped.
“The warehouse ambush,” he continued. “Port 7. Midnight. You gave him real intel that time.”
“I was sick,” I said, my voice breaking completely now. “I was pregnant and terrified and going through so many emotionsI couldn’t process. Vance was threatening me, threatening Drew, threatening my baby. And in a fit of rage and fear, I told him. I gave him real information.”
“And Drew nearly died,” Rafael said quietly.
“But he didn’t.” The words came out strangled. “Drew saved everyone. He got them out alive. And I—” I pressed my hand against my mouth, trying to hold back the sob that wanted to escape. “I sent you an anonymous tip. From a burner phone. I warned you about the ambush because I couldn’t—I couldn’t let them die. I couldn’t let Drew die.”
Rafael was silent, watching me with those dark, calculating eyes that saw everything.
“I was wrong about Vance,” I continued, forcing the words out. “I thought he wanted justice. I thought he was fighting against criminal empires, trying to expose corruption. But he doesn’t want justice. He wants blood. He wants revenge. He told me himself—he doesn’t want clean arrests or prison sentences. He wants the Kamarovs to suffer.”
“And why do you think that is?” Rafael asked, his tone almost conversational.
“His wife and daughter died in a fire. In a building owned by a Kamarov shell corporation.” I recited the facts Kirill had dug up. “He blames you. He’s been building a network for years, trying to destroy everything you’ve built.”
“And you were his weapon,” Rafael said.
“I was supposed to be.” I met his eyes, my chin lifting despite my terror. “But I’m not. Not anymore. I won’t help him. I won’t betray you again. I swear it, Rafael. I swear on my child’s life.”
The silence that followed felt like it lasted years.
Rafael stood up slowly, walked around his desk, and stopped a few feet in front of me. He was tall, imposing, radiating power and control.
I waited for the order. For him to tell Damir or Kirill or Drew to take me somewhere and put a bullet in my head.
Instead, he spoke, his voice surprisingly gentle.
“I’ve always known, Cassandra.”
The words didn’t make sense at first. I stared at him, my mind struggling to process what he’d just said.
“What?”
“I’ve known about your betrayal since the beginning.” Rafael’s expression was calm, almost kind. “I knew the moment you started losing focus. The moment you began accessing files you shouldn’t have been looking at. The moment your patterns changed.”
My legs felt weak. “You…you knew?”
“Of course, I knew.” He said it like it was obvious. “Did you really think you could search through prohibited Bratva files without me noticing? That you could meet with Vance Donovan without my knowledge?”
I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe.
“I let you think you were one step ahead of me,” Rafael continued. “Let Vance think he was clever, that he’d successfully planted an informant. Because I needed you to see the truth for yourself.”
“The truth about what?” My voice was barely a whisper.
“About Vance. About your father. About everything.” Rafael walked back to his desk, poured two glasses of scotch, and handed one to me. “Vance Donovan didn’t lose his family because of the Kamarovs. He lost them because of his own actions.”
I took the glass with shaking hands but didn’t drink.
“Vance was a dirty FBI agent,” Rafael said, sitting back down. “He was taking bribes, laundering money, protecting criminal operations in exchange for information. And David Miller—your father—discovered it.”
