Necessary. How is any of this necessary?
I have my brothers for protection. If anyone were to come after me, they’d have my back.
But the longer I consider that fact, the harder it is for me to forget what happened earlier. Despite having complete faith in them, they had no idea I was taken from the club. Even now, they still haven’t intervened. They still don’t know.
My mind flickers back to the gunfire, the bullets caught in the back window, and the way that vehicle rammed into the cement median despite having every chance in the world to flee and make it out alive.
I think about how quickly Wyatt reacted, and how easily he risked his own life just to get me out of there alive.
Swallowing hard, a touch of resigned guilt trickles into my system.
I don’t trust him, but I trust the Grimaldi family less, along with anyone else who might view me as a piece of meat to be traded on a whim.
So I sign it.
The pen scratches too loudly against the paper, grating against my skull. I write in my usual cursive hand, putting the pen down with a deep breath before I push the paper towards the lawyer.
Without missing a beat, he smiles and collects it, seemingly glad that our back and forth is finally over. “Excellent.”
Everything is slipped into a folder, as if he just closed a routine deal, looking far too satisfied. Enough so that it sets off another quiet alarm in my mind.
“I’ll handle the remaining filings and details within the next forty-eight hours.”
Wyatt nods once. “Send me confirmation.”
The man nods. “Of course, Vic. As soon as it’s done, you’ll be the first to know.”
Sitting there still, I blink.
Vic.
Something about that fake name sounds formal in a way, like it belongs to a man who has done this before. One who knows how to bend systems to work for him and isn’t above using money to get what he wants.
Code names aren’t an uncommon thing in these spaces, but hearing the lawyer call him Vic only makes me more curious about what he’s hiding, or why only some people know him by this name.
Before I can dwell on it too long, his hand closes around my wrist with deliberate purpose.
“We’re done here.”
My brows furrow as I try weakly to pull back against him, but his hold stays firm. “That’s it?”
“Yes. That’s it.”
With ease, he pulls me up from the chair and steers me toward the door. The lawyer doesn’t blink as he turns to his computer like nothing of significance just happened, and he lets us go without another word.
The elevator ride down is silent while my heart pounds harder with every floor we descend, and by the time we step into the underground parking garage, my shock and numbness curdle into something even sharper. Something angrier.
Our every step echoes within the enclosed space, and Wyatt releases my wrist as we approach the car, reaching for his key fob.
But it all hits me at once, reminding me that none of this is normal, regardless of how cool and collected he’s being.
I stop, brows furrowing. “What the hell is going on?”
Wyatt looks at me now, seemingly confused by my outburst. “You’ll have to be more specific.”
“This!” I say, gesturing vaguely between us, completely exasperated. “You…dragging me into an office and making me sign paperwork I don’t understand, and then walking away as if nothing happened.”
“It is nothing,” he mutters.
