They know everything; they know where we are, they know who we are with, and they know who we are protecting.
He steps closer, his Stefano Ricci’s silent on the concrete, until he is an arm's reach away.
I hold my ground, but just barely.
“You were asked,” he said softly, “to remember the favor you owe.”
I swallow hard and keep my voice low. “What do you want?”
His smile widens like a predator that is about to catch its prey.
“Your debt is being called in.”
I feel Kai tense behind me, ready to lunge and rip this man in half with his bare fucking knuckles.
I shoot my arm back, stopping him.
He shouldn’t be dragged into this. Not because of me.
The man speaks again, voice almost gentle. “We’ll meet tonight. Midnight. I’ll text you the address.”
He turns to leave, but pauses at the doorway and looks at me. Then mutters the words I feared more than anything. “She looks very much like her mother.”
A chill rips down my spine.
Julia.
They followed us, they saw.
Kai curses under his breath, but I can’t even speak.
The man gives me one last thin smile. “Don’t be late, Michael.”
And just like that, he is gone, leaving the entire team frozen, horrified, and confused.
Kai is staring at me like I just went cold on him, and I am trying not to throw up.
Because of the past I buried? Just walked into my locker room in a custom fucking suit.
And Julia’s danger? It’s no longer a possibility… It’s here.
Chapter 18
Kai
Julia practically sleepwalks into the penthouse the second we step through the door. She’s still wearing my hoodie. She is practically drowning in it. Her eyes are half-closed, and her cheeks are flushed from exhaustion.
“Go take a nap, little dove,” I whisper, brushing my hand over her spine.
She nods, saying something softly, then disappears into Mikey’s room— her room now, whether she knows it or not. The door clicks shut behind her, and the apartment goes eerily quiet.
I watch Mikey pace the living room, back and forth. I want to tell him not to go. Shout it at him, but I know he won't listen. Ever since we left that life, he has been on edge, like he is waiting for the ghost of our pasts to come back and haunt us.
The burner phone we keep for emergencies buzzes. Mikey flips it open and reads the text. I am hovering over his shoulder to read it also.
Unknown:Midnight. 1783 Fifth. Don’t be late.
I step back and look at Mikey, crossing my arms over my chest.
