I think there’s a world where I’m okay with this.
I can’t believe it, but I think it’s true.
“I’m a risk, aren’t I?” I press, stepping forward. “And here I am.”
I meet his icy blue gaze with a resolve that wavers a second later when I remember: I’ve already proved to be a risk not worth taking. Arata has Roman’s DNA.
By now, it’s probably been processed. My stomach drops when I realize that the NYPD might be on their way here, right now.
Fuck.
Isn’t that what I want, though?
Isn’t that the justice I signed up?
Isn’t it the best for Dakota?
Because I must really be losing my mind. Thereisno world where Roman and I are anything but what the world sees us as: detective and murderer.
I’m drowning in the weight of all the choices I’ve made when Rosa speaks up, cutting through my panic. She has a playful smile—a real smile, not the scars curving over her cheeks—on her lips.
It reminds me that she’s beautiful behind them. I try to remember if I’ve seen her smile yet. This might be the first time. “She has a point, Roman. At least consider what she’s saying.”
I’m shocked. I didn’t expect her to take my side. I don’t think it means she feels good about me, but it means she’s willing to hear me out, which is a win.
Do I even want her on my side?
Do I believe Roman and her really don’t have anything besides a professional relationship?
I find that, actually, I do.
“Enough,” Roman snaps, annoyance radiating. “I have the final say here. There are forces in motion, Giselle. People who are untouchable.”
He towers over all of us—broader, heavier, dangerous in every inch of muscle and menace. But when I glance at Rosa and Dakota, I know something he might not: brawn won’t win this one.
We’re not scared little girls.
The other women might not agree with me, exactly, but they’re not going to let him brute force all of our futures.
Because I say sowon’t work on us.
And we’re all telling him so without saying a word.
For a moment, Roman’s face is inscrutable, and I brace myself for another, louder rejection. But I won’t back down. I will protect Dakota, and if that means convincing him of the merit of my ideas, then so be it.
“I’ll consider what you’ve said,” he finally says, jaw tight, like the words cost him blood. “I’ll have my answer at dinner.”
I watch him for a beat longer, my breath hitching slightly. The air thrums. He takes a breath, and for a fleeting moment, something sad flickers in his gaze.
It actually hurts to see it.
It’s an opening. Maybe there’s a chance for understanding yet.
If Russo doesn’t SWAT this place first.
There’s a ticking clock on all of this, and I can’t forget that.
I want to forget it. Because it’s my fault.
