This kind of alliance can fracture just as easily as these words have been exchanged, and Wyatt seems to understand that.
A beat later, he adds, “You have my word on that.”
In no hurry to coddle him for his promises, Roman just looks at him a moment longer, then his attention turns to me.
“And Elena,” he continues, tone a touch lighter. “You’re not his prisoner. I’ll make sure of that.”
Wyatt stiffens at the mention of it, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he lets Roman go on without interruption as he addresses him again.
“Our sister is free to go anywhere, anytime. If she wants to come home, then she will,” he says pointedly. “There will be no locks, no restraints, and no games. She has always had her freedom, and that won’t change now. Not for you or anyone else.”
Nobody says a word, and in that silence, I look at Wyatt. At the man who both upended my life on a whim and who also trusted me with his truth. Who let me see his weaknesses and the very thing he cares most about. The one who saw the reality of his sister’s life and didn’t try to pull her away despite the fact.
I acknowledge the small part of me that wants nothing to do with him or the trouble surrounding us, but the bigger, more vocal part is surprised by the relief washing through me rather than fear or uncertainty.
He isn’t the man I assumed him to be before, and fortunately, I like this one better.
Roman stares him down. “Am I clear?”
Even if there’s a momentary hesitation in his agreement, likely at the need to relinquish some control, Wyatt nods. “Crystal.”
Searching me one last time, Roman waits before saying with a note of finality, “Then we’re done here.” His gaze flits to Wyatt again. “Take what I said to heart, and maybe this won’t end badly for you.”
Wyatt’s lips press together, unwilling to tip the already delicate balance by saying something he shouldn’t.
For the first time since all of this began, I’m not bracing for impact or the fallout. Instead, I get to choose what comes next.
Even if that choice feels far bigger than ever before.
Chapter 19 - Wyatt
After everything, I should feel victorious. It should be a crescendo of everything I’ve been working towards for years.
By every measurable standard, the meeting ends better than it had any right to. Even if I should’ve ended up another Lukov victim, I walk out alive and untouched. Not shot, dragged into a back room, or made to ‘disappear’.
Lily is safe. Not just alive, but also happy. She’s married, has a child, and exists in the life she chose for herself.
The very plan I built my survival on, as well as Lily’s, has dissolved in front of me without warning. Where I expect panic and dread to be, something much closer to relief fills that space.
Everything could’ve gone so much worse, and I know it, yet this chapter still doesn’t feel closed. As grateful as I am to still be alive, it feels like surrender. Surrendering what I thought I knew, leaving me with a new reality to try to swallow.
And with Roman’s demands fresh in my mind, it feels like I’m about to lose something I had no right to keep in the first place.
Keeping my posture neutral as we step outside, adrenaline still courses through me even while knowing the immediate threat has passed. I scan the driveway despite it being gated, searching for anyone who might not belong, or for any kind of last-minute tricks from the Lukovs. Elena walks beside me, quiet and thoughtful.
It only makes my chest ache more.
She shouldn’t be here. Not anymore.
Reaching the car, I stop and look at her. This is the part where we separate, and she gets to choose to stay as far away from me as possible, just like she has surely wanted all along.
Instead of moving, she gives me a silently questioning look, wondering why I’ve stopped.
I don’t have to look through one of the many windows to know that Roman or one of the others is probably watching the exchange. Instead, I focus on her.
“You don’t have to come back with me,” I tell her, making sure to keep my voice steady despite everything in me screaming to keep her within sight. I can’t let her see how the thought of her leaving grates on my nerves. “You’re free to go.”
As much as it hurts to say, I mean it. I hate that I mean it.
