I settle into the plush armchair and position the laptop on the wide armrest, flipping the lid open and tapping the screen to power it on.
The next two weeks go by pretty uneventfully, to Rafael’s delight. But we both know we’re not truly out of the woods yet.
I’ve been spiraling—diving deeper and deeper into the rabbit hole of the past. And fuck, the things I’m digging up have me realizing I didn’t really know who the hell my dad was. Or Stacey, for that matter.
There seems to be some kind of old connection between Stacey, my dad, and the fucking Vladmirs—the family of theRussianpakhanwho was released last month. The more pieces I uncover, the less I want to know what happened ten years ago. But it’s a compulsion now. I can no longer stop myself from pulling at these threads.
I feel like I’m close—so close—to finally unraveling it. Katie and I have been sharing information, and she’s discovered most of the same threads I have. But we’re missing something crucial—that one key piece that will make everything else fall into place. It’s maddening, feeling the answer just out of reach. And worse, it feels like someone is actively trying to bury the truth so I never find it.
At first, I thought it was Stacey. She’s the one who stopped me from digging into the past once before, after all. But then Rafael slipped last night while we were on the bed after a particularly steamy intimate time together.
“Do you need to keep digging into the past? I don’t like this path you’re going down. I didn’t give you that laptop for this kind of research. Nothing good can come from finding out what happened.”
That comment got me thinking. What if Rafael is the one trying to bury the truth from me? And if he is… why would he do that? The thought reminded me that I already have a number of sources I can tap into—people who might give me the answers I’m desperate for.
Which is exactly why I’m sitting on my motorcycle outside this courthouse right now.
I had planned to come in time for Romero’s opening statement—to watch how he defends a client I know damn well is guilty of the charges against him.
But Rafael wouldn’t leave the penthouse, and I didn't want him to know what I was up to. If he knew, I’m sure he’d try to stop me—or get to Romero before I could.
It was hard enough bluffing my way past his men without his presence, ordering them to stay behind at the penthouse while I ran my ‘personal errand’.
I park my bike in the courthouse lot just as Romero emerges from the building. I take off my helmet and wave at him. He does a double take when he sees me, then breaks into a grin as he strides towards me with that confident swagger of his.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he asks by way of greeting, pulling me into a side hug.
“I need to talk to you.”
“So you checked out my schedule online? Stalker.” He ruffles my hair the way an annoying big brother would, and I swat his hand away, studying him.
I still don’t understand what goes on in his head. Why choose to defend criminals when he could use those same skills to exonerate the innocent? His legal brilliance probably helped entrench the Nightshade's power even deeper in New York’s underground, because he has connections with the notorious gangsters and foot soldiers.
Still, he could have done anything else with his law degree.
In the briefing I got ten years ago, he was initially hesitant to join the Nightshades. What made him change his mind?
“What do you want to talk about?” He glances at his watch. “I have to be at the police station in less than an hour.”
I don’t bother asking what business he has there. Probably another one of his unsavory clients requiring his particular brand of legal magic.
“I want to know what happened ten years ago. I need to know, Rome. I’m going crazy running through all the different possibilities in my head.”
His green eyes sharpen, becoming alert and calculating. “Do you still think Rafael had something to do with that?”
I shake my head firmly. “I know he didn’t kill my dad. I also know all four of you were there that night, but he refuses to tell me what actually went down. I think he’s trying to protect me, but I don’t need protection. I need the truth.”
“Careful what you ask for,sorellina.” His voice carries a warning that makes my spine stiffen. “Are you sure you can handle the truth?”
I pin him with my most withering glare. I’m a woman in my thirties, goddamn it. Not that sixteen-year-old girl I was when we met.
“Alright then, if you insist.” He raises both hands in surrender. “Tomassi was killed by one of the other agents. The woman who’s now the director, actually. Stacey, right?”
My heart stops beating, a cold chill sinking into my bones. “What?” I ask faintly.
“I remember that night vividly because I was the one who brought the kidnapping case up with the other guys. We had staked out that orphanage because Michael’s intel said the next child would be taken from there. And it was true. We followed the kidnapper’s car, focused on tracking them back to their den when we should have saved the girl.” He shakes his head regretfully.
“When we finally breached their hideout, there was your father—alive and apparently running the whole operation.”
