25
KATIE
After coming to an agreement with Roan two nights ago, anticipation has been buzzing under my skin nonstop. I gave him every scrap of info I had on Kayla—everything I’ve managed to collect over the years—and now I’m itching to hear something back from him.
Do I have doubts about trusting him with this? No, not at all. If anybody can find Kayla, it’s Roan. He found out everything about me while I remained completely clueless, didn’t he?
So yes, I’m putting my faith in him. Roan will find my sister while I keep fooling the fucker who has her hostage. And if this mystery man gets a whiff of someone searching for her and realizes it’s Roan, I can easily feign surprise.
What do you mean he’s looking for my sister? He can’t be—that means my cover is blown. I need to get out of the Albanian estate immediately.
This is the best possible outcome that could happen, really.
I smile as I snuggle deeper into my oversized teddy bear that I've decided to call Rowan—not because it rhymes withRoan, but because I genuinely like the name. That’s all. Pure coincidence.
I run my hand down its soft body, its fur tickling my fingers.
“The man who gave you to me is such an enigma,” I murmur. “He knew who I was all along—and he still wanted me.”
My pulse spikes at the memory of his mouth on me, his rough, unyielding hands… A tremor ripples through me as if the echo of his touch hasn’t quite let me go.
Was it the thrill of seducing his enemy? Not that he had to do much seducing to get me to spread my legs for him.Some enemy I turned out to be, I sigh heavily. Did he want me at all, or just to claim me, to prove he could turn me to his side?
A chime cuts through my spiraling thoughts. I roll away from Rowan and grab the phone from my nightstand.
UNKNOWN
I’m starting to get impatient, Katie. You haven’t given me anything concrete. I heard something interesting happened this week. Come out tomorrow to tell me all about it, or else…
My stomach churns as I read the message. It’s from a blocked number—probably a burner phone—but it’s clear as day who sent it. Only one person ever contacts me through blocked numbers and ends his texts with thinly veiled threats.
The ‘or else’ hangs there like a noose.
I slide off the bed, heart pounding as strategies start firing in my head. He obviously heard something about Afrim’s death and wants my confirmation. It’s hardly classified—the funeral is tomorrow, the relevant authorities have been all over it, and the papers even ran a short obituary. My chest tightens as I’m once again reminded about his death.
But me showing up tomorrow just to confirm that Afrim died of a heart attack? That wouldn’t satisfy this bastard. He’dwant something bigger. Something he can use to attack the Albanians and bring them down while he thinks they’re weak.
Too bad for him he reached out a few days too late. I’m no longer his pawn to manipulate as he pleases.
I’ll have to talk with Roan—figure out how we want to play this. Just thinking about seeing him again sends my pulse skittering, my whole body waking up like it’s been starving and just smelled food.
We haven’t really talked since that night. He’s been consumed with work and funeral prep. And I’ve been giving him space, retreating to my room just before he gets home, leaving little notes in the kitchen next to the dinners I make for him.
Food’s in the oven. Help yourself.
Stew’s on the stove. There’s bread in the basket.
Simple. Domestic.
A flicker of nerves sparks when I glance down at the faded shirt and shorts I’m wearing.I should change.The thought barely forms before I swat it away. No, no, I don’t need to dress up for Roan. Nothing is going to happen tonight, and it’s not like he hasn’t already seen everything anyway.
Focus. All I need is a plan for tomorrow’s meeting and a clear sense of what information he wants me to hand over. That’s it. Business. To prove it to myself, I don’t bother changing or even running a brush through the messy hair grazing my shoulders. It’s growing out again, and honestly, I don’t feel the need to cut it short anymore—my cover’s been blown, so what’s the point?
My hands are shaking a little as I turn the door handle, and I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself before stepping outof my bedroom. I’m not scared of Roan. My body is just jittery, knowing it’s about to see him and remembering far too vividly the pleasure he wrung from it a few nights ago. It’s pure biology. Muscle memory.
I wipe my damp palms down my shirt on my way through the hallway, spotting a small stain from dinner earlier.All the better. Extra proof that I’m here to talk strategy—not… anything else.
As I reach his door, I linger for a charged minute, heart thundering like it’s trying to jailbreak through my ribs.
