“You're lucky,” Ash said. “Could've been worse.”
“Doesn't feel lucky.”
“No. I imagine it doesn't.” He finished with the bandages and moved to my hands. “Luka wants everyone in the living room when you're patched up.”
Declan was in the kitchen finishing his calls, his voice calm, describing the situation like he was talking about the weather instead of someone trying to kill us. He ended the call when he saw me, set the phone down, and looked at me with eyes that had gone too empty.
“Mara's pissed,” he said. “Sarah's scared. Everyone else thinks I'm paranoid.” He laughed, short and bitter. “Guess they'll find out I'm not.”
“Declan—”
“Luka wants us in the living room.” He moved past me.
I followed him to find Luka standing near the window staring out at the street, Dmitri on the couch, Ash in the chair. Declan sat on the arm of the couch and I stood beside him, close enough to touch if he needed it.
Luka didn't turn around immediately. When he finally spoke, his voice was different, quieter, carrying weight I'd never heard in it before.
“Rafael Varela wasn't always Rafael Varela,” Luka said. “That's a name he built. Before that, he was someone else. Someone I knew very well.” He turned to face us. “His real name is Rafael Konstantin. Ten years ago, he was one of mine. He wasn't a soldier. He was my strategist, my architect, the man who helped me build half of what I control now.”
I'd never heard Luka talk about his past like this, and the revelation made my skin prickle.
“He was good at it,” Luka continued. “Better than good. He understood power and how to move pieces without being seen. We built the network together, the connections, the influence, the infrastructure that made me untouchable.” His hands clenched at his sides. “And then he got ambitious. He started making moves without consulting me, building his own power base using resources we'd created together. I gave him a choice, step back or leave completely.”
“And he chose to fight,” Dmitri said quietly.
“Yes. He tried to take what we'd built and turn my people against me. So I destroyed him, systematically and completely. I turned every ally he had, burned every bridge, made sure no one in our world would work with him.” He paused. “He survived. Disappeared for a few years and I thought he'd accepted it.” He looked at Declan. “I was wrong. What I didn't know was that he rebuilt his life here in Chicago under a new name.”
“To get revenge,” I said.
“Yes. But not just revenge. Rafael doesn't think that small. He wants me to understand what it feels like to lose control, to watch everything crumble the way his did.” Luka's eyes met mine. “And you're one of the things I value most. That's why he's targeting you specifically. He knows that hurting you hurts me.”
“So this was never really about me,” I said. “It was about using me as a weapon against you.”
“It was about both.” Luka moved closer. “Rafael is strategic. He wouldn't waste this effort on simple revenge. When you came back to Chicago, when you had history and emotional attachments here, that made you useful in ways that went beyond just hurting me.”
“Declan,” I said, and felt the understanding land cold and sharp.
“Yes.” Luka looked at Declan. “Rafael had been in your life for years before Troy came back, which means he positionedhimself deliberately. All of it was preparation for a move he knew would come eventually.”
Declan had gone very still. “He knew Troy would come back?”
“He probably suspected it, and may have engineered circumstances to make it more likely. Rafael understands people. He would have known someone like Troy couldn't stay away forever. And when he did come back, Rafael would already be in position.”
“So everything was a lie,” Declan said, his voice hollow. “The friendship. The business partnership. All of it.”
“I don't know,” Luka said, and his voice softened slightly. “Rafael is capable of genuine connection. But he's also capable of using those connections as tools. With him, the line between authentic and strategic is deliberately blurred.”
“Why didn't you warn me?” Declan's hands were clenched into fists. “Why didn't you tell me years ago that this man was dangerous?”
“Because I didn't know he was here. He changed his name, changed his appearance enough that recognition wouldn't be immediate, and built an entirely new life with documentation that would pass any background check.” Luka's voice was steady. “I had no idea Rafael Varela was Rafael Konstantin until tonight.”
“He used me to get to Troy to hurt you,” Declan said.
“Yes. And he knew about the two of you.” Luka's voice was careful. “A man like Rafael would recognize an attachment immediately and understand exactly how to use it, not because he cares about the particulars, but because he sees attachments as pressure points. Ways to divide a person's focus and force mistakes.”
The implications turned my stomach. Rafael had been watching us and understanding what was developing between us probably before we'd fully acknowledged it ourselves.
“The attacks were designed to isolate Troy,” Luka continued. “Strip away his support, make him feel cornered, force him to rely on people Rafael could monitor or influence.”
