She starts talking then, babbling in a nervous stream of words that I recognize as her defense mechanism.
“Oh, um, just a shower would be amazing, and maybe some clean clothes, though these are mine. I grabbed them from home, but they still smell kind of weird from the ransacking…and maybe a phone to call my work? I’ve missed days of class, and the fire trucks, and my students must be worried, and I may need help so I don’t lose my job. My friend Bree has probably reported me missing at this point…”
I swallow a groan and battle the urge to drop my head into my hand. To my astonishment, Roman listens, nodding at appropriate moments with an attentive expression. When she finally runs out of breath, he smiles again.
“We’ll take care of everything. Valeria will show you to a room where you can rest and clean up. We’ll have clothes brought for you, and you can use a secure line to call whoeveryou need.” He gestures toward the door at his niece Valeria and Alexei’s wife, Aurora.
Guess Aurora is visiting.
My forehead creases.
This is not the Roman I know, the ruthless Pakhan who orders executions between bites of his lunch. Who once had a man’s fingers cut off for disrespecting him. Who views people as either assets or liabilities, nothing in between.
Alexei shifts to stand beside me as Roman escorts Chloe to the door. “Confused?”
I can’t quell the suspicion in my tone. “He’s being nice.”
Alexei’s coin appears between his fingers, flipping with hypnotic precision. “Remember how he was with Aurora once she was one of us? Practically adopted her. Scared the crap out of me at the time, but he was sincere. Still is. He even bought one of her mosaics and hung it in his den.”
Vanya, never far from a conversation, slips into our space with practiced ease. “Believe it or not, Roman’s a Casanova. Has a soft spot for women.” He winks. “Always has.”
“Ourwomen.” Kirill’s meaning is clear.
Roman respects what belongs to his men. Property rights, in a way.
I would be pissed, but right now, I’ll take any protection Chloe can get.
Max glares at all of us, radiating his impatience. The message is evident in the tight line of his jaw:What does any of this matter? We’re wasting time.
Chloe glances back, both trust and uncertainty glimmering in her eyes.
I nod my encouragement.Go. It’s okay. I’ll be there soon.
Her shoulders drop an inch before she follows Valeria and Aurora, who chatter at her as they leave the room.
As she disappears from view, my chest loosens, opening up space where tension lived before.
The hard, persistent knots of my existence unspool more than they have in thirty years. The sunflower tote is absurdly heavy in my hand as I set it on the polished desk.
Twenty million in stolen diamonds. A fortune in blood money.
The reason for all this. Chloe’s kidnapping, the warehouse fire, Gio’s death. She spent the entire drive up chipping those diamonds out of the resin.
“Report.” Roman returns to the man I recognize. Clipped, authoritative, brooking no argument.
I lay out everything that happened with the Falcones, from the warehouse where I first found Chloe to Gio’s final moments under the collapsing building. I tell him about essentially starting a mafia war, the very thing he warned against in our last meeting.
About finding a witness from Isla de Huesos who’s now under our protection. About the diamonds hidden in the vintage globe bar that Chloe received last year.
“She saw it all. The chaos on the island. The storm. The fire. The deaths. She was nine years old, hiding under a porch while the world burned around her.”
A charged silence descends over the room. The men exchange glances, and a current of unease flows among them. For Roman and Igor, the reaction is more visceral, a stiffening of shoulders, a tightening around the eyes. The mention of the island has set them on edge.
The others—Alexei, Kirill, Vanya, Max—know little about what happened there. None of us were present for the infamous summit fifteen years ago.
The event occurred before our time, before anyone trusted us with the upper echelons of Bratva business, and we’ve always obeyed the unspoken rule.
Don’t talk about the island or ask questions.
