Chapter 34 Aisling
AISLING
The house has learned how to be quiet—not the comfortable kind, not the peaceful, lived-in hush that settles in at night. This silence is sharp, deliberate.
Every room feels like it’s holding something back, like the walls themselves are watching us pass each other without touching.
Raf barely looks at me anymore.
If we’re in the same room, his attention slides away like water off glass. He’s gone early most mornings, sometimes before dawn, and hasn’t returned until long after I’m asleep.
When he does crawl into bed beside me, he smells faintly of gun oil and rain and cold air, like he’s been living on the edge of the city instead of in this house with me.
I know the conflict with the Yakuza is reaching its breaking point. I know things are moving fast behind the scenes.
Meetings I’m not invited to.
Plans I’m not meant to hear.
Still, I know avoidance when I feel it.
Sleeping beside him is the worst part.
He still sleeps in the bed.
He didn’t exile himself again, not fully after that first night. But the space between us feels wider than the Atlantic.
He lies with his back to me, never turning toward me, never reaching for me in the dark the way he used to. I lie awake listening to his breathing, memorizing the rhythm like I’m afraid it’ll disappear forever.
Every time I move, I wonder if he feels the way my body has changed. If he can sense the fragile, dangerous secret growing quietly inside me.
The nausea comes and goes in waves, worse in the mornings, easier to hide when he isn’t here.
Maybe that’s for the best. I still haven’t decided what to do, how I can possibly move forward with him, knowing how he feels about me—yet I’m unable to walk away, knowing just how deeply it would betray him not to say anything.
I feel frozen with doubt and indecision, racked with the thought of making the wrong choice.
And the solid wall of ice between us isn’t helping my impossible emotional state.
We speak only when necessary—logistics, security updates, neutral ground. Never so much as a “How was your day?”
It hurts more than the shouting did. At least anger meant I still mattered.
On the fourth day, I wake from a shallow, restless sleep with my heart racing.
Golden sunlight filters through the window, telling me without looking at the time that I’ve slept in once again. Raf’s side of the bed is long since empty.
I sit up slowly, hand instinctively going to my stomach.
But even if this is just another day, everything about it feels wrong.
As I pad downstairs, I pull my phone from my pocket, intending to check the time, when it rings.
My mother’s face flashes across the screen. Relief flickers briefly before anxiety snuffs it out.
I haven’t had the heart to call and tell her I’m not sick, after all.
Because that will only lead to questions that I’m not prepared to answer.
Not yet.
Not until I decide what my next step will be. But I can’t ignore her, either. That will only make her worry.
“Hello?” I say, standing straighter.
“Aisling.” Her voice cracks immediately, panic lacing her tone. “Oh, God, Aisling.”
My heart slams violently against my ribs, an instinctual reaction to her distress. “Mum, what’s wrong?”
“They took her.”
The world drops out from under me.
“Took who?” My voice sounds far away, distorted.
“Riley,” she sobs. “They took Riley.”
I grip the stair railing so hard, my fingers go numb, my foot hovering over the bottom step. “Who did?” I demand, my voice suddenly an octave too high.
“The Tanakas. They came for her at her preschool,” Mom says, words tumbling over each other.
“Two men. They said they were picking her up early, and when the teachers questioned them, they pulled out guns and took her by force. God, Aisling, I don’t know what to do. I can’t get ahold of your father…”
A roaring fills my ears, drowning out everything but the sound of my own heartbeat.
“Are you sure?” I whisper, like denial might somehow undo reality. “How do you know it was them?”
“They just called—right as I was getting off the phone with the school,” she says.
“Tatsuo said it was time to decide where our loyalty truly lies. He’s giving us one chance to fix our mistake.
If we ever want to see Riley alive again, we have to prove our alliance to him is still salvageable—to bring him Rafael Chiaroscuro’s head. Today.”
My knees buckle, and I sink onto the stairs, chest heaving, breath coming in sharp, panicked bursts.
This is my fault.
I brought our family into this.
I put Riley at risk the moment I suggested this alliance with the Chiaroscuros.
My vision blurs with tears, and I press my hand to my mouth, fighting the scream clawing its way up my throat.
“She’s just a child,” I choke. “How could they possibly stoop to that level?”
“I don’t know,” Mom says helplessly. “God, Aisling. What do we do?”
The words echo uselessly between us.
“I’m calling Raf,” I say suddenly, conviction flooding my veins as white-hot fury awakens in my belly.
How dare they take our daughter from us?
I won’t let them. I will burn this entire goddamn city down to get her back.
And if there is one person in this world that I can trust will help me do it, it’s Raf.
“Are you sure?” my mother asks, her voice trembling. “If you tell him…”
I know the sentence she can’t finish. If I tell Raf what Tatsuo wants, we’ll lose the element of surprise. We won’t be able to give the oyabun what he wants without having to fight through the full power of the Chiaroscuro family.
But killing Raf isn’t an option.
I could no sooner cut off my own head than his. Besides, his is far more useful when it’s attached. I’ve never met someone more brilliant when it comes to strategy.
“He’ll know what to do,” I say confidently.
“Aisling…” Mom pleads. “Be careful.”
“I will,” I promise, though the words feel hollow.
I hang up and immediately dial Raf’s number.
It rings. Once. Twice. Then goes to voicemail.
“No,” I whisper, jabbing redial.
Ring. Ring. Nothing.
My hands start to shake violently. I pace the length of the foyer, phone pressed to my ear, as if proximity might force the call through.
“Answer,” I beg quietly. “Please answer.”
I try again. Still nothing.
Panic blooms, full and terrifying, eclipsing everything else. Images flood my mind unbidden—Riley laughing, her tiny hands in mine, the way she curls against me when she sleeps.
The thought of her alone, afraid, calling for me—
I gag, barely making it to the first-floor bathroom before my stomach heaves.
I retch hard, body folding in on itself, terror and nausea tangled so tightly, I can’t tell which is causing which.
When it passes, I wipe my mouth with shaking fingers and stare at my reflection in the mirror. Get it together, Aisling.
I force myself to breathe. In. Out.
Raf is out there somewhere, but he’s not answering. I can only hope it’s not because that’s just how much he hates me. My chest tightens painfully, a sob threatening to break free.
My fingers tremble so badly, I nearly drop the phone as I dial once more.
“Please,” I whisper, tears streaming freely now. “Please, Raf. Answer me.”