Chapter 12
Consciousness returns like a tide of broken glass, each sensation cutting through the fog. Silk sheets whisper against my skin. Something cold and hard bites into my right wrist. My head pounds with each heartbeat, and my thoughts are scattered.
I force my eyes open. The room swims into focus—all clean lines and understated luxury. Floor-to-ceiling windows frame Chicago’s nightscape, city lights blurring as I blink away drug-induced haze. This isn’t my room in Remy’s penthouse. This is somewhere else. Somewhere expensive.
I try to lift my hand to touch my throbbing forehead, but metal bites into my wrist. The sharp clarity of panic cuts through the haze. I’m handcuffed to an ornate headboard. Professional grade, not the cheap stuff from novelty shops. My left arm is free, but it might as well be made of lead.
The memories hit like snapshots: The desperate meeting at Mighty Dragon. Roberto’s face, tight with fear. Gunfire. The walk-in freezer’s metal walls closing in. Remy’s voice, the last thing I heard before darkness took me. Was it even real?
Roberto. God, Roberto. Is he dead? Alive? The not-knowing claws at my chest.
My father’s contract pounds through my head like a twisted mantra. Twenty million dollars. That’s what Ano thinks my life is worth. Twenty million reasons for anyone—even Remy—to put a bullet in my head.
I try to sit up, but the room spins. My tongue feels thick, and my mouth is as dry as sand. Even my teeth hurt.
My clothes have been changed—I’m wearing silk pajamas that probably cost more than my monthly rent. The violation of that makes my skin crawl, but I force the feeling down. Focus. Think.
Where am I? Still in Chicago, judging by the skyline, but this could be any luxury high-rise in the city. The room is massive, minimalist, and masculine in design. Dark woods, cream walls, abstract art that probably costs more than most cars.
My brain feels wrapped in cotton, but one thought cuts through with crystal clarity: I’m completely at someone’s mercy. And in my world, mercy comes with a price tag—twenty million of them.
The door opens with a soft click that might as well be a gunshot. My breath catches as Remy fills the doorway, his presence electric. Of course it would be him. The twenty million bounty must have been too tempting to resist.
He’s wearing one of his perfect black suits, the kind that costs more than most people make in months. His tie is loosened just enough to make my mind wander to dangerous places. To memories of my fingers wrapped around silk, pulling him closer. I force those thoughts away.
“You look definitely better. Comfortable?” His voice carries that familiar edge of dark honey and steel.
I meet his gaze despite my position, refusing to show weakness. “The handcuff is a bit tight. But I suppose that’s the point.”
He moves into the room with predatory grace, each step measured and deliberate. I force myself to hold his stare even as my pulse races. Does he know about the USB drive? About Roberto? My true connection with Ano Montoni? The questions tangle in my throat.
The mattress dips as he sits on the edge, close enough that I catch his familiar scent—expensive cologne mingled with something darker. Gunpowder, maybe. The ghost of our last kiss haunts my lips, and I hate how my body responds to his proximity.
“You disabled my cameras and ditched your protection.” It’s not a question.
“You planted a tracker.” I match his tone. “I guess we’re both disappointed in each other.”
His jaw tightens. “You could have died in that freezer.”
“Would that have simplified things for you? No need to dirty your expensive suit as you’re about to do now.”
“Is that what you think?” He leans closer, and I fight the urge to shrink back. “That I saved you just to collect Ano’s bounty?”
“Twenty million buys a lot of loyalty.”
His laugh is sharp, humorless. “If I wanted you dead, Eve, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
Heat radiates from his body, making it hard to think. The handcuff bites into my wrist as I shift, reminding me of my vulnerability. “Then why am I here, Remy? Why the restraints?”
“Because you ran.” His fingers brush my jawline, and I hate how I lean into his touch. “And I can’t trust you not to do it again. Start talking, Eve. What game are you playing?”
Roberto’s face flashes through my mind—his last desperate look before shoving me into that freezer. The weight of not knowing his fate crushes against my chest as I weigh my options. How much can I risk telling? How much does Remy already know?
Something dangerous flashes in his eyes as he leans closer, bracing one hand beside my head. The mattress dips under his weight, and I fight the urge to pull away. “Even after pulling you from that freezer, you still think I’m your enemy.”
There’s a genuine offense in his tone that catches me off guard. It doesn’t fit with the calculated killer I’ve been telling myself he must be. But trusting him could be fatal—for more than just me.
Our faces are merely inches apart now. “You’d want to deliver me personally, don’t you?” I counter, keeping my voice steady despite our proximity. “Maintain that perfect reputation of yours.”
His grip tightens on the headboard, knuckles whitening. The reaction is visceral, almost personal. It doesn’t match the cool professional I remember—or thought I knew.
“You reached out to me, Eve.” His words carry an edge of betrayal that surprises us both. “What was it about? Were you willing to trust me or testing how close you could get to find juicy information?”
His free hand traces my jawline, the gentle touch contradicting the tension crackling between us. It would be so easy to lean into that touch, to pretend for just a moment that this isn’t what it is—a dangerous game where one wrong move could cost everything.
Remy’s words cut through the tension. “The handcuffs stay until I get answers.” His voice drops lower as he moves away from the bed. I track his movements—the controlled steps that can’t quite mask his agitation.
“I know you’re investigating Ano Montoni’s company, human trafficking.” He continues pacing, each step precise. “And before you accuse me of spying on you, Montoni told me of his fear of your revelations. And no, I won’t testify about that. You know I won’t.”
“Of course not,” I spit back, disgust coating my words. “You’re too busy protecting monsters like him. Do you know how many lives have been destroyed? How many women and children—”
“What I know,” he cuts me off, voice sharp as a blade, “is that you’re going to get yourself killed. You think exposing this will change anything? They’ll bury the evidence along with your body.”
I pull against the handcuff, metal biting into my skin. “So I should just look the other way? Like you do? All I need is the originals. Once I release the evidence—”
“You’ll be dead before it hits the press.” He stalks back to the bed. His presence is overwhelming as he looms over me. “Montoni’s reach goes deeper than you know. The people he works with—”
“I don’t care how deep it goes,” I interrupt, my voice shaking with rage. “I’ll dedicate every breath I have left to make sure he rots in prison. Everything he’s built, every corrupt deal, every life he’s destroyed—I’ll bring it all crashing down.”
His eyes search my face, frustration morphing into something more calculating. “Why this case? Why Montoni? There are dozens of trafficking rings you could investigate. What makes him special?”
“Special?” A bitter laugh escapes me as I yank at my restraints.
“You want to know what makes him special? The way he sits in his mahogany-lined office, sipping thousand-dollar scotch while signing off on shipping manifests filled with human cargo? Or maybe how he hosts charity galas with blood money?”
“This is personal for you,” he observes quietly, dangerously. “Beyond your usual crusades. What aren’t you telling me?”
“You’re the great fixer,” I sneer. “You tell me. You work for him. Haven’t you figured it out? Haven’t you wondered why he’s so obsessed with stopping me specifically?”
Remy goes completely still, his eyes narrowing. “Eve…”
“Ano Montoni is my father!” The words explode from me like bullets. “That monster, that human trafficker you protect, that’s my father! So yes, Remy, it’s personal. It’s very fucking personal.”
The truth hangs between us like a loaded gun. Remy’s hands turn into fists.
“I’ve dedicated the last three years of my life to this investigation,” I continue, my voice steadier now that the truth is out.
“Roberto and I followed every lead, every whisper. We interviewed survivors, traced shell companies, and tracked shipping routes. Most led nowhere, but lately…” My fingers curl into the sheets.
“We finally had what we needed. Real evidence. Concrete proof. All we had to do was work the leads together.”
Remy’s expression shifts, something dark and heavy settling over his features. He moves to sit on the edge of the bed, and my chest tightens at the careful way he positions himself. I recognize that look.
“Eve.” His voice is unnaturally gentle. “Roberto Mutini is dead. He was killed during the attack at the restaurant.”
The words hit like a physical blow. My free hand flies to my mouth, but it can’t stop the strangled sound that escapes. “No.” The denial is automatic, instinctive. “No, he got away. He had to—”
“I found his body in the kitchen.” Remy’s words are soft but merciless. “Single shot to the head. Professional.”
The room spins as memories assault me—Roberto’s last frightened expression, his hands shoving me toward the freezer, the sound of gunfire. I squeeze my eyes shut, but it doesn’t stop the tears from breaking free.
“He locked me in that freezer,” I whisper. “He knew they were coming. He saved my life.”
I can’t breathe. The news hits me like a punch to the gut, knocking the wind out of my lungs. My chest constricts painfully, and I can’t suppress the wave of grief that crashes over me.