I glanced at Madigan, frustration lingering in my voice. “I was expecting to talk with Madigan alone.”
Rurik only smirked, clearly unbothered by my objection. “Well, you got me instead. So speak.”
Leaning forward, I met Rurik’s gaze directly. “I’m looking for information about my birth parents.”
The air in the booth shifted as Madigan stiffened and Rurik took a deep breath. “Why not ask Sinclair? I’m sure he already knows,” he said, his implication clear.
I lowered my voice, glancing cautiously around the bar. “You know Sinclair,” I whispered. “He doesn’t give information away without a price.”
“So why come to me?” Rurik pressed.
I hesitated only a moment before answering. “Because you are good at what you do, and Sypher is busy,” I admitted, a grin tugging at my lips as I turned to the woman sitting quietly next to Rurik. “Plus, Illyria gave me Madigan’s name. She seems to think Maddie might be able to help me as well, which I thought was odd. Then I remembered Sinclair offered you his help once with a particularly delicate situation. It got me thinking.”
Maddie closed her eyes and shook her head. “I won’t put my son in harm’s way, Rowen. Not even for you.”
“I’m not asking you to, Maddie.” I softened my tone. “I know you. Watched you grow up. You and Dante were best friends once. Still are, I think. I’m only asking for who my parents are.”
“Your marker means nothing to me, Rowen. It’s what happens after that worries me,” she cryptically replied.
“What the hell does that mean?”
Maddie opened her eyes, her gaze heavy with worry. “It means that digging into the past always comes with consequences, Rowen. My father almost died when his past came back to haunt him. Sometimes the truth isn’t what you hope it will be—and it rarely leaves things unchanged. It also means,” Maddie said, looking me directly in the eyes, “like Illyria, I will do anything to protect my legacy.”
Rurik leaned back, crossing his arms as a heavy silence settled over our table. The distant sounds of laughter and clinking glasses from the bar seemed muted, as if the world itself was pausing in anticipation of what came next. My resolve did not waver as I met Maddie’s gaze, my voice steady with determination. “I have to know, Maddie. No matter the cost.”
“She said no,” Rurik growled, his tone final, as if that alone would end my search for answers.
Leaning back in my seat, I shook my head in quiet frustration. The path ahead was narrowing, and my options were fading fast. Turning my focus to Rurik, I decided to change tactics, my voice measured. “Where can I find Jasper Michaels?”
Rurik let out a low chuckle, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Seems he is the man of the hour. I told you to make sure he was truly dead, but you didn’t listen.”
“Fuck you, Rurik.” My words slipped out, edged with anger and regret.
The Russian bastard only laughed, undeterred by my outburst. “You should know you aren’t the only one looking for him. I heard the Italian Council is searching for him as well.”
I narrowed my eyes, suspicion sharpening my tone. “And let me guess, you are too.”
Rurik’s grin widened, but there was no humor in it. “Let’s just say Jasper Michaels has a way of making powerful enemies, and some debts never stay buried.” He drummed his fingers on the table, the rhythm sharp and deliberate. “But I’ll tell you this—I too have been tasked with finding the man, and unlike you, when I do find him, I will make sure the man stays dead.”
The room seemed to shrink around us, the weight of unspoken threats hanging in the air. I forced myself to breathe evenly, refusing to let Rurik see my uncertainty. Reaching for my wallet, I quickly counted out several crisp hundred-dollar bills and tossed them onto the table—a silent gesture that marked the end of our tense conversation. Without another word, I slid out of the booth and stood, feeling the heavy weight of disappointment press down on me. The answers I’d hoped for had slipped further from my grasp.
With a final glance at Rurik and Maddie, I walked out of Calloway’s, stepping into the night no closer to uncovering the truth I so desperately sought.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Rowen
It was late, and the lamp next to me cast long, dancing shadows across my room as I tried to read the worn pages of the book in my hand. Each word was familiar, yet unable to capture my attention as my mind kept drifting back to my meeting with Maddie. I knew she had the information I was looking for.
Hell, so did Rurik for that matter, but neither refused to budge. Then there was when Maddie compared herself to Illyria and mentioned protecting her legacy.
I didn’t claim to know the depths a mother would go to protect her child, but I knew how far Illyria would go. Everyone did. The way she played a dangerous game with the table, the underworld, her own family, even the man she loved to safeguard her son was legendary. She put the underworld on notice that if anyone dared come near her child, she wouldn’t think twice before eradicating them, and to seal that deal, she had the Italian Council and the Bratva Federation backing her up. Her son was untouchable.
My breath was a slow, steady rhythm, a counterpoint to the quiet hum of the world outside as I tried to put the pieces together when I heard the soft click of my doorknob. I didn’t look up. The floorboards creaked gently as she moved, a sound that spoke of deliberate grace, of a journey undertaken without hesitation. I could feel the warmth radiating from her as she climbed onto the mattress, the slight displacement of the covers a tangible assertion of her proximity. She settled beside me,her body a warm contour against my side, the fabric of her nightdress a whisper against my skin.
I tried to concentrate on my book, my gaze fixed on the printed words, an attempt to construct an impenetrable barrier between my focused intellect and the undeniable sensory reality of her presence. The stories on the page offered escape, a refuge in the imagined lives of others. Yet, the proximity of her breathing, the faint scent of her skin, the subtle pressure of her limb against mine, was a constant, insistent tug, a reminder of the unwritten narrative unfolding beside me.
With a quiet motion, I closed my book and set it aside on the nightstand, releasing a sigh as I gazed down at Melissa. The question on my mind weighed too heavily to keep to myself. “Can I ask you a question?” I said, my tone betraying a hint of hesitation.
