I didn’t see Elias when I dashed out, and true to his word, he didn’t stop me. Ren waved from a window on the second floor and held up his phone.
Ren
Good luck, Lana. It was a pleasure.
The guards stood aside, a car already idling at the curb to take me away.
No one expected me to stay.
I should be happy. I should be thrilled. This was what I wanted—to get out of the devil’s grasp. To go back to New York City and be with my family.
I should be relieved.
A dark chuckle reaches my ears, and I look up, finding Tristan staring with pensive eyes. He scratches the scruff along his jaw and gives me a soft, sad smile.
“I’m probably shooting myself in the foot, but that look on your face—it’s different from when I saw you last.”
I bite my lip. I have things I could tell him now. I know what The Association is, who The Six are, and Elias’s endgame. I’ve seen him kill someone. I could be a material witness.
But instead, the next words out of my mouth are, “Can you protect my husband? Or at least make him a deal?”
“What?” His tone sharpens.
“If there was a good reason—if he really was just trapped in a dangerous position—can you protect him? Or give him immunity if I help you?”
Silence. Tristan holds my gaze, clearly weighing the cost.
“You want The Association,” I say. “That’s why you contacted me. That’s why you were watching me, right? Your target isn’t Elias Kent.”
He remains silent. It’s an admission.
“I can tell you everything I know. But if I do, you make sure my husband stays safe.”
“Even after everything you’ve seen?” he asks. “Don’t bother lying—I’m good at reading people. The Lana Anderson I met that day wasn’t aware. But the woman sitting here knows. You know what he’s capable of, what laws he’s broken. And after all this, you still want to protect him.”
His words rattle inside my head.
And suddenly that tight, breathless feeling finally makes sense.
“You love him,” Tristan murmurs.
I hitch a sharp breath.
“Excuse me.” I shoot up, grabbing my purse.
Tristan looks at me with resignation.
“I’m sorry,” I add.
I glance at the clock on the wall—quarter to six. The dinner with the Berishas starts at seven. Elias should already be getting ready.
I need to run.
“Think about it,” I tell Tristan. “I’ll help you nail The Six. My condition is immunity for Elias. That’s the only thing I want. Him safe and alive.”
Without waiting for his response, I dash out of the café with Scarlett hollering after me, “Already called you a cab—it’s at the curb!”
“Thank you!”
