I waketo cold sheets and empty space where Rafa should be. The digital clock on the nightstand reads 4:47 AM—too early for normal movement, too late for restless insomnia. Something is wrong.
Moving quietly through the safehouse, I follow the soft murmur of his voice to the kitchen, where pale dawn light filters through the windows. He’s standing with his back to me, phone pressed to his ear, speaking in the careful, controlled tone he uses for serious business.
“—recommend patience,” he’s saying. “Let me talk to Kira first. Let her understand the full scope of what her family planned. Give her the chance to choose her response.”
My blood turns to ice water. He’s talking about me. About my family. About choices I haven’t been given the opportunity to make.
I press myself against the wall, heart hammering as I listen to one side of a conversation that’s clearly determining my future without my input.
“She won’t,” Rafa says with certainty that both warms and terrifies me. A pause, then: “I am.”
Another pause, longer this time.
“I want her protected. Whatever happens with her family, whatever decisions have to be made—she gets protected.”
The implications crash over me like a tide. Whatever decisions have to be made. In the language of our world, that can only mean one thing.
Death sentences.
“A few days, perhaps,” Rafa continues. “Long enough for her to demonstrate where her true loyalties lie.”
I close my eyes, processing what I’m hearing. This isn’t just a report about last night’s events—this is a negotiation about my family’s survival. About my future. About whether the people I’ve loved my entire life get to continue breathing.
And Rafa is the one making the case for their elimination.
“No illusions left. Not after tonight.”
The finality in his voice makes something twist in my chest. This is the man I’ve fallen in love with, the one who killed for me just hours ago, calmly discussing the logistics of destroying my family.
This is what loving someone in our world really looks like.
“For what it’s worth, I think you made the right choice tonight. All of them.”
The call ends. I hear Rafa moving toward the door and quickly retreat to the bedroom, slipping back under the covers and closing my eyes. Pretending to sleep while my mind races through everything I’ve just learned.
He returns minutes later, sliding carefully back into bed as if he never left. His body is tense beside me, radiating the kind of stress that comes from making impossible decisions in the space between dawn and darkness.
“I know you’re awake,” I say quietly.
He goes completely still. “Kira?—”
“I followed you. I heard the conversation with Vito.”
A long pause. When he speaks again, his voice carries a note of resignation. “How much?”
“Enough.” I turn to face him in the gray morning light. “Enough to understand what you’ve set in motion.”
His face is carefully blank, but I can see the tension around his eyes, the way he’s bracing for my anger or betrayal or whatever reaction he thinks I’m going to have.
“Are you furious?” he asks finally.
“I should be.”
“But you’re not?”
I consider this, taking inventory of my emotional state. “I’m surprised by how not furious I am.”
“Explain that.”
