"Yes."
"That's insane." She's still laughing, but it's getting higher. More frantic. "Jack is a lot of things, but he's not—he wouldn't?—"
"He did."
"A hundred thousand dollars?" She shakes her head violently. "No. No, that's not possible. We've been paying fifteenhundred a month for three years. The balance should be down to almost nothing by now."
"Jack never made a single payment."
The laughter dies in her throat.
"What?"
"The money you've been sending him every month? He kept it. All of it." I lean forward, forcing her to meet my eyes. "The original debt has grown to a hundred and forty thousand with interest. And the Bratva wants payment in full within thirty days."
Kristen's face goes white. Paper white. The kind of pale that comes right before someone passes out or throws up.
"That's not—" Her voice is barely a whisper now. "That can't be right. You made a mistake. Your people made a mistake."
"I don't make mistakes."
"Then someone lied to you!" She's on her feet now, hands shaking at her sides. "Jack is a bastard, okay? I know that. He's selfish and he cheated on me and he's a terrible father. But he wouldn't—he wouldn't put our daughter's life on the line with the Russian mafia. He wouldn't steal from me for months while I worked myself to death trying to pay off?—"
She stops.
The realization hits her like a physical blow. I watch it happen. Watch the pieces click together in her mind, all the little inconsistencies she'd been trained not to notice finally forming a picture too ugly to ignore.
"Oh god." She presses a hand to her mouth. "Oh god."
I should say something. Something comforting. Something human.
Instead, I wait. Because Kristen Thomas doesn't need my comfort right now. She needs to understand exactly how much danger she's in.
And then she needs to let me protect her.
Kristen
The memories crash into me like waves I can't stop.
Jack coming home with shopping bags after Lily's surgery. New clothes for me. Toys for Lily. A necklace I never asked for. Bonus from work, babe. My boss loved the Henderson pitch.
I believed him.
Every. Single. Time.
My heart pounds so hard I can feel it in my throat, in my temples, behind my eyes. The room tilts slightly and I grip the arm of the couch because if I don't hold onto something solid, I'm going to collapse right here on this expensive rug in front of a man who just told me my entire life is a lie.
One hundred thousand dollars. From the Russian mafia.
And Jack kept every payment I've scraped together for three years. Eight months of MY money. Every time I skipped meals so Lily could eat. Every time I took a double shift until my feet bled. Every time I stared at my bank account and wondered how I'd make rent.
He took it all.
"Are you—" Nico starts.
"Are you Bratva too?" The words come out sharp, desperate.
Nico laughs.
