Chapter Fifteen
CADEN
The longest minutes of my life weren’t the ones spent in battle, or negotiation, or even standing at my mother’s bedside while machines did the breathing she no longer could.
They were the ones spent waiting.
Waiting for a call.
Waiting for an email.
Waiting for Priscilla to decide the fate of Haven Crest—the place Kamiyah’s parents built, the only thing tethering her to the sister she refuses to give up on.
I pace the length of our living room, phone in my hand, pulse in my throat. The city spreads below our penthouse like a glittering trap. Every light feels like an eye watching us, waiting for the first crack.
Kamiyah sits curled on the couch, her knees tucked to her chest, her eyes tracking me with quiet tension. She’s trying to be calm, for me, for both of us, but her fingers tremble whenever she brushes her hair back.
“Nothing yet?” she asks softly.
“No.” I check my phone again. “It shouldn’t take this long. Any normal person would have seen that bid and accepted it on the spot.”
“Priscilla isn’t normal,” Elena murmurs.
No.
She’s a predator.
Cold. Calculated.
And nothing motivates her more than control.
I rake a hand through my hair. “I don’t trust her. Or Maxwell. If they see something off in the paperwork, if they sense the bid is connected to me—”
“She’ll reject it.” Kamiyah finishes quietly.
I nod, jaw tight. “And come after us harder.”
Silence settles, thick and suffocating. Kamiyah stares at the nothingness between us, her voice barely audible. “I don’t want her near Anna.”
Neither do I. Anna’s only purpose to Priscilla is to use her to keep Kamiyah under her thumb. And she’d use Anna’s vulnerability—her coma, her dependency on the facility—to force compliance.
Not if I can help it.
Not while I still have resources.
And allies.
But calling in another favor… Damn.
I hesitate for a full minute before pulling out my phone—taking a deep breath, I dial the number for the second time since Kamiyah walked into my apartment. A number I hadn’t used since the night my mother died, when the world fractured and I made alliances I thought I’d never need again.
Kamiyah’s gaze snaps to me. “Who are you calling?”
“A friend,” I said, dialing. “Someone who can help us.”
Her eyes soften with trust. A trust I’m not sure I’ll deserve after what I’m about to do, but I will repay with everything I have.
The line clicks and a familiar, amused voice answers. “This better be good. I’m in the middle of dinner.”
“Zykin,” I greet tightly. “I need another favor.” Zykin Yaroslav is the Don of the Russian Bratva in Little Odessa—aka—East Village in New York City.
There is a beat of silence, followed by a low, incredulous laugh. “Another favor? Caden, it must be your birthday.”
I snort despite the tension coiling through my spine. “You know I wouldn’t call unless it’s serious.”
“Everything with you is serious,” he says dryly. “Speak.”
I turn slightly so Kamiyah won’t see the strain in my eyes. “It’s my wife. Her sister is in a coma. And the woman who legally oversees her medical decisions is…dangerous. She’s using Anna as leverage.” I relay all pertinent information because I know he has the means to find out anyway.
There’s a heavy pause. Zykin is the type of man that doesn’t play when it comes to his wife, Katya, and I pray that knowing Kamiyah’s position makes his decision to help me easier. “You need protection,” he says, voice dropping. “Or removal?”
“Not hers,” I grit out. “Anna’s.”
Another silence—sharper this time. “Explain.”
“I want her moved,” I say. “Quietly. Discreetly. To the secure medical facility your network uses. The one outside state jurisdiction.”
Zykin’s exhale is a low whistle. “You don’t ask for small things, do you?”
“No,” I say. “I don’t.”
“And Haven Crest? The doctors? The paperwork?”
“I’ll handle the legal fallout.” I swallow hard. “You handle the rest.”
I could almost hear him weighing loyalty against practicality. “And why,” he says slowly, “should I risk repositioning resources for you?”
“Because it’s worth it.”
“Worth what, Caden?” His tone sharpens. “You owe me one favor already. Moving a patient across borders—quietly, invisibly—will cost you another.”
I don’t flinch. “Then I’ll owe you.”
“Are you sure?” he asks. “Debts become chains. You know this.”
I look at Kamiyah curled on the couch. Eyes full of worry. “Yes,” I say quietly but with conviction. “The cost is worth it.”
Zykin hums, a sound of reluctant satisfaction. “Then consider it arranged. I’ll send my people within twenty-four hours. They’ll handle transport. You’ll handle the noise.”
“Done.”
“And Caden?” he adds. “This woman of yours… she must be important.”
I looked at Elena again—her small frame, her brave face, her entire world hanging by a thread. “She is,” I say, meaning every word.
The line disconnects.
I lowered the phone slowly. My pulse still hammers, but the decision is a solid one even if Kamiyah may not forgive me for not telling her. Because when Priscilla finds out, Kamiyah’s shock is what’s going to convince everyone that she had nothing to do with Anna going missing.
The phone in my hand buzzes.
Both of us freeze as I lift it slowly.
One new message from my lawyer.
ACCEPTED.
Priscilla signed the documents. Haven Crest is legally secured. A slow released breath leaves me shaking, disbelieving.
Kamiyah’s hand covers my chest. “Caden?”
I pull her into me, holding her tight, burying my face in her hair. “She signed,” I whisper as she melts in my arms and sobs tears from her throat. In my arms I feel her relief. Grief. And her shock.
I hold her tighter.
Hold her like a vow.
“We’re not safe yet,” I murmur. “But this time… we’re winning.” And I will burn every bridge, every favor, every resource I have to make sure it stays that way.