Page 50 of Inevitable Endings


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“I know enough.”

“You know nothing, you were always under his protection.”

“Then I’ll find out what it’s like on my own.”

Sawyer sighs heavily, rubbing the back of his neck. ‘‘Alright, let’s slow down for a second. What exactly are you walking into, Isabella?’’

I press my lips together, pulse pounding in my ears. ‘‘I can’t tell you everything. But I know enough to know that he’s not gone.’’

Ada’s eyes darken, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. ‘‘You don’t know that for sure, it’s just a known nickname. You’re grasping at ghosts.’’

‘‘It’s not.’’ My voice is steady, certain. The weight in my chest is unbearable, but beneath it, something sharp digs deeper, something like conviction, like fury. ‘‘You heard what he said, Ada. You saw what happened.’’

She shakes her head. ‘‘It doesn’t mean what you think it means.’’

‘‘Then what does it mean?’’ I challenge, stepping forward. ‘‘Because if you have another explanation, I’d love to hear it.’’

Silence stretches between us, thick and heavy. She has no idea, she knows just as little as I do. She knows something is wrong too.

Sawyer watches the exchange, jaw set, but he doesn’t interrupt. He’s giving Ada the space to argue, to push back—but she doesn’t. Not yet.

Finally, she exhales sharply, turning her back to me. ‘‘I don’t like this, I am supposed to protect you. I took a fucking Omerta vow.’’

‘‘I don’t care,’’ I say, voice harsher now, but no less determined.

Ada turns, her gaze locking onto mine, something fierce burning behind her eyes. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to throw yourself into something you don’t understand justbecause you’re grieving.”

I flinch, but I don’t back down.

‘‘I’m not grieving,’’ I say, voice low, steady. ‘‘I’m hunting.’’

Sawyer lets out a slow breath, crossing his arms. ‘‘Alright,’’ he says finally, breaking the silence. ‘‘So let’s start there. Who are we hunting?’’

Ada groans. ‘‘Goddamn it, Sawyer—’’

I stare at Sawyer, nervously twisting the ring on my middle finger, ‘‘A member of the Bratva.’’ I swallow acid down as his name rolls of my tongue for the first time in a long time, ‘‘Aslanov Ivanov Karamazov.’’

Ada freezes. Her breath catches for just a second, but it’s enough.

Sawyer, however, doesn’t react right away. He just watches me, his expression unreadable, but I can see the tension in his jaw, the way his shoulders tighten ever so slightly. He knows that name carries weight. He knows what it means.

‘‘The Bratva,’’ he repeats, his voice careful, measured. I purse my lips together before I add, ‘‘And not just anyone; the head of the organization.’’

Sawyer exhales sharply, dragging a hand down his face. ‘‘Shit.’’

Ada still hasn’t moved. She’s just standing there, staring at me like she’s waiting for me to take it back, to say I misspoke. But I don’t. I won’t.

‘‘You’re out of your goddamn mind,’’ she finally says, voice quiet but seething. ‘‘Do you hear yourself? You don’t go after a man like that, not again. Not without his protection in his world. You’re just a naive young woman, a target to them. You don’t touch that world and walk away breathing.’’

I hold her gaze, unwavering. ‘‘I already have.’’

Ada lets out a sharp, bitter laugh. ‘‘Because you were under his protection, Isabella. You weren’t walking through fire, you were being carried through it. There’s a difference.’’

A muscle in my jaw ticks. ‘‘Then I’ll walk through it on my own.’’

Ada steps forward, closing the space between us in one swift, angry motion. ‘‘No, you won’t,’’ she hisses. ‘‘Because you’ll end up in a grave before you even get close. Hell, you don’t even know what you are trying to get close to.’’

‘‘Then help me, you vowed it,’’ I counter.