Chapter 9
NINE
The front door clicks behind me as tears prickle my vision.
I left Sin still sleeping in the living room. Peaceful. One arm flung over where my lap used to be. The blanket I laid over him rising and falling with each breath.
He may wake up and realize I saw the blueprint, but I was careful to lay Romeo and Juliet back on top of it, the spine cracked open, lying on the quote.
Was it simply him thinking of me or is he deciding to take fate into his own hands and hurt my family?
My stomach flips again.
I walk faster, into the shadows of the sidewalk, careful to not let Maxwell catch site of me. If I get in the car with him my face and heart will betray me. He’ll know something happened in that house and he’ll report it to Cameron.
I need to figure out something before I come to my family with this.
I can’t start a war.
What if it was all fake? The late nights. The way he held me. Whispered my name like it was precious.
A crack of thunder roars overhead, wonderful.
I walk, then jog.
Now, I’m running.
I don’t know where I’m going. Just away. Far enough that I can’t feel the heat of Sin’s betrayal licking at my heels. I weave through the streets, the chill night air and rain cutting through my coat and onto my bare skin.
The city wraps around me, neon signs blinking, windows glowing, laughter spilling out of bars and restaurants. But I feel like I’m underwater. Distant. Fuzzy. Like I’m here, but not.
I duck into an alleyway, heart thundering, throat burning.
I want to scream. I want to claw my way out of my own skin. I want to break something until it shatters the way I just did.
A sleek black car glides up beside me on the adjoining street. Silent. Slow. Its headlights slice through the fog and rain like a knife.
I keep walking. Don’t look. Don’t engage.
“Magnolia?”
I freeze.
Zeik.
Perfect.
He rolls down the window as I return to the sidewalk, walking to nowhere. His voice calm and maddeningly collected. “You’re out here. Alone. In tears. Yeah, now’s the time.”
“I’m not in the mood, Zeik,” I call over my shoulder.
“You think I care about your mood?” he replies, not unkindly, just blunt. “You’re soaked, shaking, and clearly running from something.”
“Go away.”
“Don’t make me stop this car and come after you.”
“I swear to God.”
The car slows to a stop.
The engine dies.
A car door opens.
Footsteps echo behind me. I spin, fists clenched, drenched hair sticking to my face.
“I said I’m fine!” But the words crack halfway through. And he sees it. All of it.
Zeik doesn’t smirk. Doesn’t mock. There’s no smugness in his eyes, just something soft. Quiet.
He steps toward me.
“Come here.”
“I don’t want…”
But he wraps his arms around me anyway, and something inside me shatters.
I collapse into him, fists pressing weakly to his chest before giving up entirely.
I bury my face in the curve of his shoulder, and the sob rips out of me, raw and ugly, full of everything I’ve been holding in since I saw the blueprint.
He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t tell me to calm down. Just holds me, steady and warm, while the rain falls and the streetlight buzzes overhead like the world’s holding its breath.
I hate how easy it is to let go in his arms. How natural it feels. I should be stronger than this. I should be running from him, too. But tonight, I don’t have the strength.
I trusted Sin.
I gave him pieces of myself I’ve never given anyone. And he gave me what, lies?
“I believed in him,” I whisper hoarsely when the tears finally slow. “I believed everything. I always do.”
Zeik says nothing, just pulls me a little closer like I might disappear.
When I can stand on my own again, he guides me to his car. The seat is warm, the leather soft. The heat hits my wet skin and makes me shiver.
“I didn’t know where I was going,” I say as he pulls away from the curb. “I just… ran.”
He glances over. “But you found me.”
I didn’t mean to. But he’s right. Somehow, I did.
“I don’t know what to believe anymore,” I admit. “Maybe I never did.”
He nods once, solemn. Then, without a word, he swings into a drive-thru lane.
“What are you doing?”
“Saving you from your own spiral. Chocolate or vanilla?”
I blink at him.
“What?”
He turns to the speaker. “One strawberry milkshake,” he says, and I shoot him a look.
“I didn’t say.”
“You hesitated. That means you like strawberry.”
He orders another and fries, and minutes later, the car fills with the comforting scent of grease and ice cream. He hands me the milkshake like it’s nothing. Like I didn’t just cry my soul out on his shirt.
The first sip cools my throat. The sweetness hits. My hands stop shaking.
He drives again, slowly now, like the city’s breathing around us.
“Here.” He hands me a black duffel bag. “They’re clean, was headed to the gym.”
“Yes. Change. You’re going to catch a cold.”
I laugh, that is the least of my problems. “Can you?” I gesture to the road.
“Eyes forward, I got it.” He chuckles.
He keeps his word. As I change into his warm, oversized clothes and pull my hair into a messy bun, he never glances my way. “Thank you.”
Now he looks, smiling. “I like your hair like that.”
“I look like a hot mess.”
“No.” He shakes his head, Brushing a knuckle against my cheek. “You don’t.”
“Is it safe to talk to you?” I ask, watching the headlights blur against the rain. “I know you work with everyone.”
He doesn’t look at me, just nods. “Always. I don’t sell intel.”
I study him. “Even if it’s about mine? Even if Sin’s planning something?”
His hands tighten on the steering wheel. Just slightly. Just enough for me to notice.
“Even then,” he says. But I don’t believe him. Not yet.
I pick at a fry, not meeting his eyes.
“You don’t have to tell me anything,” he says. “But I will tell you something.”
I glance at him.
“I know Sin better than most. You deserve better than to be strung along like a pawn on someone’s chessboard. You’re not property, Magnolia. Whatever he did tonight, it wasn’t love.”
The words hit harder than they should. Because part of me wonders if they’re true.
“I don’t know who to trust anymore,” I whisper. “Everything I thought was solid just turned to smoke.”
Zeik finally looks at me. “Then don’t trust anyone yet. Sit in the smoke. Wait for the wind to clear it out.”
I let the words settle. Let them root. Because, oddly enough, they make more sense than anything else I’ve heard lately.
We drive in silence. Milkshakes. Rain. Smoke.
The world fills quiet.
Not fixed. Not safe.
But quiet.
When we pull up to the Rusco home, the lights are still on. Cameron is waiting in the foyer, arms crossed, eyes narrowing as soon as I step inside with Zeik behind me. Dressed in his clothes.
He looks surprised. Suspicious. I tell Zeik thank you and walk upstairs.
“Is she okay?” Cameron asks, voice low.
“She just needed a ride,” Zeik says evenly.
“From where?”
Zeik shrugs. “That’s her business to tell you.”
I pause on the stairs. Just for a second. Listening.
Maybe Zeik Caputo is still dangerous.
But maybe, just maybe, he’s not the danger I need to fear or the ear I shouldn’t trust.