Chapter 31
The sterile scent of the hospital causes my spine to go rigid as I sit quietly next to Alexei. Across from us, Amelia’s body practically vibrates with rage, her eyes throwing daggers into the void. “Don’t worry, we’re going to make whoever did this to him pay,” she hisses through clenched teeth, her voice a venomous whisper meant only for Eva.
I wonder why the ambiguity. Amelia was informed shortly after we arrived at the hospital that the security footage revealed exactly who was behind the brutal attack on her brother. Dante’s name burns in my mind—a traitor. I have never met the man, but anyone who could turn on someone they have made an oath to is obviously a coward. Perhaps Amelia is dancing around who was behind the shooting because she doesn’t want to pull Eva into our world completely. She’s an outsider, and from what I have gathered through my experiences with her, she isn’t the type who would want blood on her hands.
“None of that matters. I only want Vincent to be okay.” Eva’s soft words carry more hope than conviction. “Revenge isn’t going to make him better.”
A tightness forms in my chest as I watch the two women. They’re night and day, fire and water. But their bond runs fierce and deep. A friendship between opposites like theirs makes no sense to me. Alexei and I are cut from the same cloth. We almost always know what the other is thinking. That’s why I also know the secret I’ve been carrying will change things between us forever. But that is for another time. Right now, at this moment, Amelia needs to be our focus.
A buzz comes from Alexei’s jacket, and his hand moves quickly to snatch his phone. He glances at the screen, then curses under his breath, standing so abruptly that his chair scrapes against the floor.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
“I can’t just fucking sit here,” he growls, thumbing the phone in frustration.
“Where are you going?” Amelia looks up at him.
“It’s work. I need to make some calls.” He’s distracted as he moves toward the exit of the hospital’s waiting room. “Fucking family...” he mutters with his eyes fixed on his phone, hammering out a response to whatever text he received.
This attack hits far too close to a wound not yet healed for him. It wasn’t long ago that Alexei’s brother came for him, and while we survived, the betrayal still left its mark. Now, finding out that Dante was the one who shot Vincent, then Marco suddenly going dark, today’s events echo that same treacherous refrain. If I know Alexei as well as I think I do, the work he’s referring to is tracking Marco down so he can determine if he was, in fact, part of this. When someone you love hurts, and you don’t know how to fix it, the only thing you can think to do is hurt the ones who hurt them.
Amelia turns her attention back to Eva. As strong as she likes to appear, those who know her the best can see the cracks. Her anger is a mask for her fear and pain. Seeing her like this feels like someone is jamming hot pokers into my gut, which only causes the guilt I’ve been carrying for months to gnaw at me even more. I’m not sure when it started, but at some point, an affection has grown beyond the bounds of loyalty. It twists inside me with every glance Amelia throws my way.
Can Alexei see it? The man knows my soul, so how can he not? That my watchful eyes hold a different kind of regard for his wife now? I have tried desperately to bury it under layers of duty and honor, telling myself that my feelings for Amelia are not real, but thoughts of her linger in my mind.
I decided what I had to do almost a month ago. I’ve been waiting for the right moment to tell Alexei and Amelia. Russia. The word surfaces. The only way I can keep my longing under control is to be as far away from her as possible. I will lie. I will tell them I long for the motherland and ask them to grant me a transfer. I will serve the family’s needs there: wanting what I can’t—shouldn’t—have. Just as I grew close to making my request, Amelia’s world came crashing down.
From the corner of my eye, I see Eva jump when the doctor enters, clearing his throat before speaking. Looking around, I don’t see Alexei anywhere nearby. I stand and move to the seat on the other side of Amelia, our shoulders brushing as I prepare to be her rock for the impending news. Her hand finds mine, gripping it tightly. Eva clutches her other hand, and they anxiously await the doctor’s words.
“You’re the family of Vincent King?” he asks, flipping through the chart in his hands before looking at Amelia.
She nods. “I’m his sister,” she announces.
“Well, Ms. King,” the doctor starts, and Amelia doesn’t bother to correct him with her married name. In a way, at this moment, she is a King. “Vincent is out of surgery. His vitals are stable.” Relief flickers in Amelia’s eyes, but it’s short-lived, chased away by his next words. “That being said, we’re not out of the woods yet. He has been placed in a medically induced coma to allow his body to heal. At this point, all we can do is wait and monitor him.”
Amelia’s response is fierce, the steel backbone of the King family shining through. “He’s a fighter,” she asserts. “He’ll make it.”
The doctor nods before adding that they will update us with any changes. Then he’s gone, leaving us in the purgatory of uncertainty.
Eva’s breath hitches, a soft sob muffled by resolve. “I need to call my mom,” she whispers, searching her phone with trembling fingers.
“Where the hell is Alex?” Amelia asks, and I know her sharp tone stems from her worry for Vincent.
“He said he had to make some calls,” I reply.
Amelia stands abruptly, telling Eva she will return before telling me to walk with her. I obey, and we move into the hallway, the sterile light casting stark shadows on her face. It’s only us in the quiet stretch of antiseptic white walls.
“Are you okay?” I ask, knowing she is the furthest she can be from okay.
She presses her lips into a thin line before she speaks, choosing her words carefully. “I need something from you,” she says. I want to tell her I would give her anything in the world she asked me for, but I contain my words and respond instead with a silent nod.
“I know you’re loyal to Alex. Probably the most loyal person in his life, and while this isn’t Ivanov business, I don’t know who else to ask.” Her voice is low. “You would be doing this for me and me alone. Not as an agent of the family, do you understand?”
“I understand,” I assure her, and I mean it.
“I need you to find Dante.” Her jaw sets hard.
“I can do that,” I answer.
She clears her throat and looks around to ensure no one is listening to our conversation. “The last time I spoke to my brother, he informed me he thought there might be a much larger plot against him.”
“What do you mean?”
“He said he was worried that Anthony’s daughter, Gia, might be trying to gather people who might have been loyal to her father to move against him. He was worried she was manipulating Marco. He was having her followed so he could show Marco she couldn’t be trusted. He told me his men saw Dante, Nico, and Marco all meet at Gia’s house. They didn’t come out until the following morning,” Amelia explains.
“That really doesn’t prove it has anything to do with your brother.”
“That’s what I told Vincent, but now, after finding out Dante was the one who shot him, maybe he was right,” she replies.
“I understand. What do you want me to do after I find Dante?” I ask.
“Marco’s my cousin, and as hard as it is for me to imagine he was involved in this, I have to know for sure,” she continues. “He hasn’t answered his phone since I told him about Vincent. I want you to find Dante and make him tell you who else was part of this.”
“And if Marco was?”
“Then he’s no family of mine,” she answers cooly.
“Consider it done,” I answer.
She tells me she will call Smitty and have him text me Dante’s address. Before I leave, she reaches out and pulls me into an embrace—an uncharacteristic move for Amelia. I let myself linger and enjoy the embrace in a way I know I shouldn’t. When I finally force myself to break free, I head straight for the exit, trying my best not to think about how good it felt to hold her in my arms.
The moment I’m outside, my phone vibrates—a message from a number I assume belongs to Smitty—just as Amelia promised. With the address in hand, I text Alexei, “Had to leave. Back shortly.”
As I slip through the shadows, my footsteps are silent on the damp pavement. The night air is cold, biting my skin, but I barely feel it. I’m on a mission that Amelia personally handed to me. It may be the last thing I ever do for her before I ask to go back to Russia, and I refuse to let her down.
I take the subway, leaving the vehicle we arrived in for Alexei and Amelia to use in case they need it. When I finally reach the building, my heart pounding as I ascend the stairs to the sixth floor—Apartment 6B—I pause outside the door, listening. Silence. Then a deliberate exhale.
Pulling a mini case out of the chest pocket of my jacket, I retrieve the two long metal pieces hidden inside and get to work on the lock. A moment later, there is a click, and with a turn of the knob, the door creaks open. Inside, darkness greets me. My eyes adjust.
“Where are you?” I whisper into the emptiness.
I move from room to room. The stillness is deafening. I’m alone. I conceal myself against the wall near the entrance. When someone enters the apartment, I will be hidden behind the door. I steady my breathing and wait in silence.