“Well, keep me posted, alright? I want updates.” I open my mouth to respond, but then she hits me with a bomb. “Oh–Aria guess who I ran into yesterday? Ethan.” Every muscle in my body locks up. “He told me you two are dating!” Her voice is filled with glee.
That lying, manipulative asshole. My grip tightens around my phone. Ethan must be trying to reinforce his bullshit leverage. My aunt now thinks I’m seeing him. I can’t deal with this now; it’s too much. “Not now, Aunt Cathy. I have to go. I’ll be late for work.”
She sighs. “Alright, but I want details next time we talk.”
“Maybe,” I laugh weakly. “Love you, aunty. Go get some sleep, okay, bye.” I hang up before she can dig further.
I let the phone fall to the bed, my pulse pounding. Cyan’s cage tightens, and Ethan’s strings tug from the outside. This is a mess. I need to get out of here. I need to go to work. I need the numbers. Will Cyan even let me go in? If I sit around in this room all day, stewing in my helplessness, I might lose my mind. I test the bedroom door. It opens, surprised it’s not locked like yesterday. I’m expecting one of Cyan’s men to be stationed outside. The hallway is empty. A flicker of hope sparks in my chest as I step out and pad toward the stairs. The house is eerily quiet, its high ceilings and grand architecture amplifying every move I make. I should risk finding a car; maybe walking is best. I don’t want to risk missing this chance to escape. Seeing no one downstairs, I make a beeline for the front door. My pulse pounds as I reach for the doorknob, twisting the handle. This door doesn’t budge. Then I see it–the keypad, a fingerprint scanner. My stomach sinks; there’s no way out without Cyan’s prints. My fists curl in frustration.
“Going somewhere?” I jump, sucking in a sharp breath at the sound of the familiar voice. Spinning around, I come face-to-face with Rosa, the older woman from the pier.
“You?” Rosa smiles, her scar shifting. With her salt-and-pepper hair in a ponytail, her delicate features almost reminded me of Aunt Cathy. I remember how I begged for help.Rosa must’ve sold me out.Now she’s smiling as if we’re old friends.
“Good morning, Aria. I didn’t mean to startle you, Cyan said you’re not to leave without him.” I’m not falling for her tricks this time, not after what she did. My gaze flickers to the jagged scar on her cheek, a story I don’t know and don’t care about. “Cyan only told me yesterday—”
I cut her off, anger rising like bile. “You knew all along, didn’t you? That night at the bar, you knew who he was. You let me beg for your help while knowing you were working for him the whole time. How could you do this? How could you help him trap me?”
Rosa sighs. “You do not know how hard this is for me.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “Hard for you?”
“I care for Cyan like a son. I’ve seen his demons, his struggles. But you bring something different to his world. There’s hope in you, Aria.”
I scoff. “Hope? What fucking bullshit.” My breath comes faster now, my emotions teetering between rage and desperation. “If it’s really hard for you as you say, help me. You know, he’s kidnapped my grandmother to control me, Rosa.”
Something flickers in her eyes. Hesitation? Doubt? “Aria, you don’t understand. Cyan’s doing this for your safety… our safety. There’s a misunderstanding between you two. He’ll correct it when he sees fit.” Her words are a slap to my intelligence, and they solidify one terrible truth. Cyan sees himself as my keeper, and Rosa? She accepts it.
“A misunderstanding? He drugged me, dragged me out of my life, and locked me in his. That’s not a misunderstanding, Rosa. That’s control… and my grandmother… she doesn’t deserve this.”
Rosa turns her gaze toward the window. For a moment, she’s still and silent. Her reflection stares back at her, unreadable in the glass. When she speaks, her expression has tightened, smoothed into something practiced. “I’ll confirm with my own eyes she’s safe. You have my word on that.”
It’s not enough. My hands curl at my sides, nails biting into my palms. Every instinct screams to tear through this house, to force Rosa to hand over her keys, but that won’t get me to my grandmother. I bite my tongue until I taste iron. I want to claw at her but I must wait. Not until I know where Cyan is keeping Nonna. I’ll bide my time.
“Like I believe anything you say.” My voice comes out raw.
She nods, her gaze steady. “That’s fair. I understand your anger and lack of trust. You’re not alone in this. If you need me, I’ll be here. But I’ll respect your stance.”
My laugh is harsh.Trust?That word doesn’t survive long in Cyan’s world. “Rosa, if I find out my Nonna isn’t safe, I’ll never forgive you, and Cyan won’t be the only monster in Crescent Bay.”
Rosa studies me for a second. Then smiles. “You have more fight than you realize. Maybe that’s why he chose you. But threats won’t make me your enemy, Aria. You call Cyan a monster. Maybe he is. But he’s the monster who keeps us alive. I’ll check on your grandmother, not because you threaten me, but because I understand what she means to you,” she says. Almost like a mother scolding and admiring in the same breath.
At that moment, my stomach betrays me, growling loud enough to break the silence. I ate nothing all day yesterday. How did I not notice the smell of food earlier?
“I made breakfast.” Rosa gestures toward the kitchen. Wordlessly, I follow her in. Smelling jasmine tea drifting through the air. On the table sits a spread straight out of memory–sesame bagels, cream cheese, guava jam, fresh fruit. My favorites. I hesitate, but hunger wins. I grab a bagel, smear it with cream cheese and jam, and take a bite as I move toward the windows. From the corner of my eye, Rosa pours tea into a porcelain cup. “You should sit, Aria. Do you take honey or brown sugar with your tea?”
I swallow and walk to the table. Rosa offers the cup. I don’t take it. Instead, I reach for the pot, pouring my own. The familiar scent rises—Artisan blended jasmine. My one indulgence. Something I’d given up long ago so every spare penny could go toward Nonna’s care. And now? I drop into a chair and sip, the sweetness of the jam lingering on my tongue. Cyan is feeding me everything I’ve ever wanted, laying it out like a feast while keeping me caged in his world.
“Good morning,” Cyan’s deep voice murmurs in my ear. I didn’t even hear him walk up behind me. He places a kiss on my temple, a casual intimacy that I would have avoided if I saw him coming. Memories of last night slam into me. I suppress a shudder, my stomach twisting. I’m sure I’m blushing.What the hell am I doing?
Across the room, Rosa watches smiling. “Good morning, Cyan.” Rosa is all motherly scolding, hands on her hips. “Come sit and eat. I noticed you didn’t touch your dinner yesterday, so you’ll be finishing everything on your plate this morning.”
Rosa moves to the stove. The hint of butter and pepper fills the silence. She plates eggs sunny-side up, seared tomatoes, thick-cut bacon, and grilled steak. She walks over and sets the dish in front of him. “You will not butter me up,” she reprimands, snapping her kitchen towel at him. “Eat it all.”
“Whatever you say, Rosa. You’re the boss.” I blink. The boss? Cyan MacBrady, the ruthless, terrifying Capo of Boston, letting a woman half his size scold him? I can’t reconcile this version of him with the one who blackmailed and caged me. Rosa laughs, shaking her head. The sound feels almost normal. Too normal. The kind that makes the walls of this house seem familiar. The sound of the front doors opening breaks the illusion. Collin and Johnny stroll in.
Collin makes a beeline for the kitchen. “Good morning, Rosa. What’s for breakfast?”
Cyan cuts in, “You don’t live here. Go to your own house for breakfast.”
