Chapter 30
Kapono
I ’d finally carved through the last stubborn strip of paint, sealing the window shut, and my wrist ached from the strain by the time the blade slipped free with a satisfying little flick. I leaned back, wiped the sweat from my brow, and gave Sayla a nod.
" Try it now ," I mouthed.
She reached for the latch with careful fingers and pushed. For a second, it resisted, groaning softly like it hadn’t been touched in years. Then— snick —it gave way.
We eased the window up together, inch by inch until the cool night air spilled in. I didn’t need to say anything—Sayla knew what to do. She vanished into the shadows of the room and reappeared with Kaida bundled in her arms. Her eyes found mine briefly, and I steadied myself just outside and held out my arms.
"Got her," I whispered.
She handed Kaida over carefully, like a glass sculpture, and I cradled the little one tight against my chest. A few seconds later, she came back, this time with Kairo. He was half-asleep, his arms dangling as Sayla hoisted him up and passed him out to me. I took him with the same care, then crouched to set them both down just beneath the window on the grass.
Sayla’s hands gripped the frame, and she made a go at pulling herself through. She got halfway up, then slipped back down with a frustrated grunt.
"By the way, I lackfuckingupper body strength," she muttered, trying again. “My muscles are like cooked spaghetti.”
I smothered a laugh and reached a hand toward her. "C’mon. Spaghetti or not, I’ve got you."
I reached in, lifting her until I could slide one arm beneath her knees and the other behind her back. She muttered something about being fine, but I didn’t have time to argue. The moment I shifted my weight forward, leaning into the window to lift her out, I heard it.
Footsteps above us. Slow, heavy, and deliberate. Someone was coming—heading toward the basement door. My heart kicked into high gear.
“Shit,” I hissed.
I hauled Sayla through the window with a grunt, not caring if I scraped my knuckles or if she landed rough. The second her feet hit the grass, I shoved the window down and heard the click of the latch shutting behind us. It wouldn't buy us much time, but it was something.
“Run,” I whispered sharply, grabbing Kaida and tucking her into Sayla’s arms. “Go.”
She didn’t ask questions, she just ran. I scooped Kairo up, his head bobbing against my shoulder, and took off after her into the trees.
Behind us, the shouting started.
"She’s gone!" someone roared as lights flicked on in the house. The yelling got louder, angrier, and closer.
Branches slapped at my face as we cut through the underbrush, Sayla ahead of me, her breath ragged and fast. We didn’t stop or slow. We couldn’t.
The car was right where we left it, tucked behind the overgrown hedgerow. We burst out of the tree line, feet pounding the dirt. I opened the back door and whispered loudly, “Strap them in and hold them tight. I’m driving fast.”
Sayla scrambled into the backseat, doing exactly what I said, her hands trembling but steady enough to get the job done. I closed the driver’s door quietly, heart hammering, and started the engine, ensuring the lights stayed off. I was relying on darkness and instinct.
The tires kicked up dirt as we peeled away from the woods, the house disappearing behind us.
After a few minutes of silence but for Kaida’s sleepy murmurs and Kairo’s soft breath, I eased us off the main road. The town lights flickered in the distance, but I didn’t head for them. I turned instead, following the darker paths that snaked along the town’s edges. I didn’t follow a pattern or straight lines to throw anyone off if they were tracking.
Another turn, then another. It felt like I was trying to outdrive the weight in my chest.
Eventually, I found the turn I was looking for—a narrow dirt road hidden mainly by overgrowth. I swung the wheel, and we bumped down it, branches scraping the sides, with the headlights still off.
A broken old farmhouse stood at the end of the road, barely visible through the brush. With its sagging porch and shattered windows, it looked long forgotten by everyone but time.
I pulled behind it and killed the engine, the silence falling like a blanket.
We sat there, breathing hard, and the smell of dust and pine was thick around us. For now, we were safe.
I let the silence stretch a few more seconds, watching the shadows move across the old porch like they might come alive, but nothing did. There were no headlights, no crunch of boots on gravel, just the wind tugging gently at the trees.
“I think we’re good,” I finally said, half to myself.
I reached for my phone and tapped Roque’s number. The call connected faster than I expected, and I cursed under my breath as the car’s Bluetooth picked it up and Roque’s ringtone came blaring through the speakers.
“Damn it,” I hissed, fumbling to lower the volume. Kaida stirred but didn’t wake, still curled up against Sayla’s side like a kitten. I glanced back, my emotions softening when I saw her sucking her thumb, still fast asleep. “Sorry, didn’t mean to blast it.”
Sayla just gave me a tired shrug, her eyes heavy but alert. I watched her brush Kaida’s hair back from her forehead with surprising gentleness.
“You think they gave her something?” I asked quietly.
Sayla snorted softly. “Nah, she just sleeps like a log when she’s worn out. Like—don’t-wake-me-during-a-tornado tired.”
Before I could say anything, Roque picked up. “Kapono, what’s going on?”
I looked at Sayla in the mirror and gave her a nod. “I’ve got someone here who wants to talk to you.”
Sayla blinked and caught a breath, but a small voice piped up from the back seat before she could speak.
“Uncle Wok?” Kairo had sat up a little, rubbing his eyes with one fist, the other hand still clutched in Sayla’s shirt. His voice was scratchy and quiet but clear.
There was silence on the other end of the line, then Roque’s voice cracked through, rough and low. “Kairo?”
I didn’t say a word, I didn’t need to. The weight of emotions in his voice said it all.
“Uncle Wok?” Kairo repeated, his voice a little stronger now, like he was waking up for real.
Roque let out a long breath over the line. I could hear his engine humming faintly through the speakers—he was already driving.
“I’m coming to get you, buddy,” he said, voice thick. “I’ve missed you so much.”
“I missed you too,” Kairo mumbled softly, snuggling closer to Sayla’s side.
There was a pause, and then Roque called quietly, “Sayla?”
Sayla blinked fast, like she hadn’t expected to hear her name just yet. “Yeah,” her voice broke around the edges. “It’s me. We’re okay, Roque. I—God, I can’t wait to see you.”
A soft, strained, but genuine laugh came from the speakers. I could hear the wind rushing past his windows, the sound of tires on the road, and something in my chest twisted up tight. It felt like I was eavesdropping on something sacred.
I looked out the window, giving them a second, and then cleared my throat. “Roque,” I kept my voice low. “You want us to meet you halfway?”
There was a rustle of movement on the other end, as if he were fiddling with something. “Nah, I’m bringing Judd, Kai, and Keir with me. We’re close, so just sit tight. I’ll take you somewhere safe.”
I nodded, even though he couldn’t see it. “All right.”
We were about to hang up when Kairo’s voice floated out from the back seat again.
“I’m sorry about your wall.”
There was stunned silence for a second—then the whole car filled with laughter. Sayla bent over, hand over her mouth to keep from waking Kaida. Even I couldn’t help it, letting the sound slip out like a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
Roque was laughing, too. “We’ll talk about the wall later, kiddo.”
The call ended with a quiet click, and we were back in the silence of the abandoned farmhouse. But this time, it didn’t feel heavy, it felt like hope.
Sayla
Once Roque arrived at the farmhouse, none of us said much. No reunions, no long hugs—just quiet, focused movement. We transferred to his SUV without a word, the kids staying half-asleep in our arms. I climbed into the back seat with both of them—Kaida cradled against my right side, and Kairo curled up securely on my left, tucked beneath my arm. Then, all five vehicles pulled out together, like pieces in a carefully choreographed dance.
We didn’t speed, but the route was anything but normal. Every turn felt deliberate. Sometimes we turned when we should’ve gone straight, or we’d loop around the same block twice. Our SUV rode in the middle of the formation like a queen’s carriage in a convoy—protected and shielded. It was over the top, but I wasn’t rolling my eyes. I just watched the road through the window, holding the kids close in case we stopped suddenly.
When we reached the edge of town, the formation broke. Each vehicle split off in a different direction, like we’d never been together in the first place. I had no idea where the others were going, and honestly, I didn’t need to.
Roque made one final turn, pulling behind a small house that backed up against a fence and had a half-covered swimming pool. He parked in a spot that looked like it was meant for storing outdoor furniture. Definitely not a driveway. But again—none of this felt accidental.
As we got out, still mostly silent, a light clicked on, and a door opened. Imogen stood there, silhouetted in the frame, her voice low. “I set up the sofa in the home office for the kids, but there’s a bedroom you can use if you’d rather.”
Roque gave her a tired smile. “Sofa’s fine for now.”
Inside, everything was soft and quiet. We laid the kids down, Kairo on one end and Kaida curled beside him. Roque knelt, pulling Kairo in for a hug, his hand lingering on the back of Kairo’s head.
“Watch your sister, yeah?”
Kairo nodded seriously. “I love you.”
Roque smiled, voice low. “Love you too, kid.”
Kairo leaned back slightly, rubbing his eyes. “Watch Sayla, okay?”
Roque and I both smiled at that, something soft and warm passing between us.
We stepped out of the room, Roque gently closing the door behind us.
The moment it clicked shut, he turned to me and pulled me in. His kiss was warm, fierce, and full of everything we hadn’t been able to say yet, and his hand slid up to the back of my neck and held me there like he wasn’t ready to let go.
“I was so damn worried about you,” he murmured against my hair.
I let my forehead rest against his, my voice barely a whisper. “I was terrified.” I took a breath. “But I knew you’d find us.” And somehow, that had made all the difference.
Roque didn’t let go of me right away. His arms stayed around me, steady and warm, like he still needed to be sure I was real.
His voice was quieter now, close to my ear. “I’d have moved mountains to find you.”
I believed him. Not because it was a nice thing to say but because I’d seen what he’d done to make it happen.
“I know,” I murmured, my voice catching a little. I took a breath, about to tell him the one thing that had been sitting on my heart this entire time, the words that had kept me grounded even in the worst of it. “Roque, I?—”
The hallway light flicked on, and Judd’s voice cut in, low but clear. “Sorry to interrupt, but you’re needed in the living room. We’ve got to go over what we know and ask Sayla a few things.”
I turned to follow him, my heart still halfway in my throat, but before I could move, Roque caught my hand. He didn’t say the words exactly, but he looked at me like he saw every unfinished sentence in my eyes.
“I know,” he said softly. “And I feel the same.”
It was enough for now.
We followed Judd through the quiet house, passing by a small dining room and into a cozy but cluttered living room, where Kai and Keir were already seated with Kapono. Papers were spread across the coffee table with maps, photos, and notes scribbled in messy, tired handwriting. The room smelled faintly like coffee and stress.
I sat down on the arm of the couch, folding my arms as the questions began.
I gave them the rundown on how they’d taken us from the house. The way they’d moved—organized like they knew what they were doing. I described the house, the window, and what I knew of the routines. I told them everything I could remember about the men—their voices, their builds, the faint Southern accent one of them had. Every scrap of detail I could dig up from my memory, I gave them.
Kapono leaned forward, arms resting on his knees. “I found Briggs.”
Everyone fell quiet, but I got the feeling that most of them knew this information anyway.
“He’s dead,” Kapono added flatly. “Back on River Road. Someone didn’t want him talking.”
Judd exhaled sharply and rubbed his jaw. “I just got an update on that. The coroner hasn’t finished the autopsy yet, but preliminary’s not pretty. Looks like he was hit across the head—blunt force trauma and then run over.”
I felt the blood drain from my face. I hadn’t liked Briggs, but I didn’t want him dead, not like that.
The room sat in heavy silence for a moment, the weight of it settling over all of us. And I had the sinking feeling this was only the beginning.
“I met Briggs at the house,” I told them, breaking the silence. My voice didn’t shake, but it felt like something cold settled under my skin as I said it. “He came down into the basement with a man who said his name was Vincent Russo.
He was cocky, and you could tell he loved the power of being with them. And then—” I hesitated, the moment still sharp in my mind “—he asked me if I’d ever heard of Titian.”
Every man in the room stilled like I’d dropped a live wire in the middle of the floor.
“That’s what he said. Just— ‘You ever heard of Titian?’” I swallowed. “I told him no. But before I could ask him anything else, Russo turned to him and said, ‘I wish you hadn’t said that.’” I looked around the room at all the sharp glances and unreadable expressions, and the sick feeling twisted tighter in my gut. “That was the moment I knew Briggs wasn’t going to make it out.”
Roque sat forward slowly, elbows resting on his knees, eyes never leaving mine. “You’re sure he said the nameTitian?”
“I’m sure.”
Imogen finally spoke. “We’ve only ever heard whispers of that name. We’ve no confirmed identity, not even a clear alias. Just Titian. Like a ghost story for the people who operate in the dark.”
Judd rubbed a hand down his face. “If someone used the name like that—just dropped it casually—it means they were confident we wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.”
“Or,” Keir said grimly, “they wanted to make sure weknewwe were in over our heads.”
Roque leaned back again, jaw clenched. “So now we have a dead informant, the mayor, and a possible link to someone supposedly untouchable.”
“Yeah,” I cut in quietly. “And two kids who were nearly pawns in whatever game they’re playing.”
The room went still again. No one argued with that.
Kapono, who’d stayed quiet up to now, finally cleared his throat. “You’re sure this...Titian person wasn’t just a scare tactic?”
“I don’t know what it was,” I replied honestly. “But whatever I saw in Russo’s eyes when Briggs said the name—it wasn’t a bluff. It was a promise.”
None of them said anything, but I could feel something shifting. They all looked at each other like a line had just been crossed, and none of them were sure where it led.
After that, I walked them through everything I could remember about the man who called himself Vincent Russo. I didn’t hold back. I described his build as tall and lean but not wiry, like someone who knew how to move and command space without raising his voice. His hair had been dark, just starting to grey at the temples, and he was clean-shaven. He’d also had sharp eyes, cold but calculated, and wore confidence like a uniform.
“And the mayor?” Keir asked gently.
I nodded. “He was there, I saw him. He didn’t speak much to me, but he wasn’t just some passive bystander. He was in it fully.”
There was a moment of exchanged glances before Judd opened a laptop and spun it toward me. The screen showed a grid of faces—twelve, maybe fifteen headshots, all men of different ages, ethnicities, and hair lengths.
“We want you to pick him out,” Judd explained. “If he’s here.”
I didn’t hesitate. I didn’t even give them a chance to blink.
“That’s him.” I tapped the screen with the flat of my finger. “Right there.”
I half-expected to feel uncertain and to question myself, but there was no doubt in my mind. His face was burned into my memory like it’d been branded there.
“You’re sure?” Roque checked gently.
I looked at him, eyes steady. “I couldn’t be more sure.”
I would’ve thought I’d forget things under that kind of fear. That adrenaline and panic would’ve blurred the details and made everything hazy.
But instead, it was like everything had sharpened. Every expression, every word, every flicker of movement—I remembered it all in vivid, uncomfortable clarity. My fear hadn’t dulled my senses, it had honed them.
“I was scared,” I admitted, “but somehow, that made me notice everything even more.”
Roque’s hand brushed mine gently where it rested on my knee, grounding me in the moment, and I took a deep breath, letting the air settle in my lungs.
We weren’t even close to being done, but at least they were listening