Chapter 4 #3
When did this even happen? I met Aleksandr when he was ten and I was eight. He taught me how to throw my first punch and called me "book goblin" every time I showed up with my tote bag full of paperbacks. There was never a time he had bandaged fingers. No burns. No missing skin. Nothing.
So either it happened before he was ten—which is deeply horrifying—or he hid it well enough that I didn't even notice.
I'm still stuck on the image—on the sheer violence of that idea—when Gwen clears her throat.
"Lily is the only loose end," she says quietly.
Every head turns to me.
Oh.
Oh God.
Loose end. That's not just a term. That's a problem. That's a target.
I feel the blood drain from my face so fast it's like someone pulled the plug. My coffee sloshes in my mug as my hands tremble, and I press it down to the counter before I drop it entirely.
They're going to kill me.
Of course they're going to kill me. I know too much. I saw too much. This was always how it was going to end—me in a borrowed chair, in a borrowed house, surrounded by beautiful, terrifying people who drink espresso and talk about corpse disposal like it's brunch planning.
This is it. This is how I die.
Not in some big dramatic moment. Not in a car crash or at the hands of a masked stranger. No. I'm going to die in jeans, with coffee in my system and my dog under the table, because I am the loose end.
I squeeze my eyes shut for a second and force a breath into my lungs, but the room's already starting to feel too bright, too loud, like my own panic is pressing up against the inside of my skull.
King shifts at my feet and lets out a low, concerned whine.
Same, buddy. Same.
"So…by loose end you mean you're going to kill me, right?
" I squeak, looking down at the chipped pink paint on my fingernails.
"I mean, I get it. You've all done so much for me, and I really appreciate it, so…
yeah. I can unloose my end. Or maybe it's faster if someone else does it?
Or like—I don't know—I'm totally fine disappearing off the face of the planet.
A remote island, unlimited books, pina coladas, maybe Thai food because you know how much I love Thai, and—"
"Lils!" Nadia snaps, sharp and immediate.
I blink up at her with a watery smile. "It's fine. I just… can King come with me?"
My voice cracks, but I'm serious. If I'm going into exile or being neutralized or whatever polite word they use for erased, I'm not leaving my dog behind.
Nik lets out a short laugh and shakes his head, taking a sip from Gwen's coffee like this isn't a spiraling existential crisis.
"We're not going to kill you."
"Or disappear you," Nadia adds dryly, leaning against the counter as the kettle starts to whistle. She raises a brow at me like I've insulted her by even suggesting it.
"That is never an option," Aleksandr says, removing the kettle from the stove with practiced ease. He pours the steaming water into his mug. "You're not a loose end. You're… a witness."
"That doesn't sound better," I mutter.
Aleksandr pulls out a cinnamon tea bag and places it into his mug.
"What can we do to not make her a viable witness?"
"She could lie, but if there's a loose end we do not know about then she would be committing perjury." Gwen assures me gently from across the counter.
King lets out a soft chuff beneath me, pressing his head against my leg.
"Is perjury our best option, because I don't know if I am good with that." I whisper, taking a sip of my overly sugary coffee that has cooled to room temp.
"You were just going to die, or disappear for us, but you won't commit perjury?" Aleksandr smirks, looking at me from over his cup of tea.
"I will not do good in jail," I inform him, leaning down to run my hand over King's head. "I would go alone on a remote island, and I am assuming heaven is like smooth sailing."
"So, other options?" Nadia announces to the room, raising her mug and gesturing like this is a brainstorming session and not my entire future on the line.
Gwen, calm as ever, leans her hip against the counter. "The only way someone cannot be forced to testify in this situation is either due to the Fifth Amendment or spousal privilege."
I choke on my coffee. Not a little cough. A full-body sputter. I wipe my mouth with the sleeve of my hoodie, blinking hard.
Spousal privilege? Like marriage? Like Aleksandr and I... together?
My brain does an instant nosedive into chaos.
Images flash too quickly—white dresses, a bouquet, signing some horrifying prenup in blood.
Aleksandr standing at an altar in that impossible black henley, looking like sin and secrecy.
Me having a panic attack in the bathroom trying to figure out what wine pairs with a Bratva wedding.
"Wait, back up," Nadia says, brow arching as she looks at Gwen. "The Fifth Amendment?"
Gwen shakes her head. "It doesn't really apply here. Lily's not the one being charged, and pleading the Fifth only protects you from incriminating yourself. If the DA wants to build a case around Aleksandr, they can still subpoena her."
"So…" Nadia eyes her over the rim of her mug. "That leaves spousal privilege."
"But Alek and Lily aren't married," she adds, deadpan.
Gwen's lips curve into a smirk. "Exactly. But if they were, Lily couldn't be compelled to testify against him. Not about anything that happened after the marriage."
"So they get married tomorrow," Nadia says, already grinning, "and we mess with the paperwork to backdate it a week. Easy."
"Our brains work perfectly together," Gwen praises, bumping her hip gently into Nadia's.
Nik groans into his coffee. "This is not how the law works."
"Tell that to my fake marriage license template folder," Gwen mutters under her breath.
I blink. Then blink again.
My brain is on fire. My heart is threatening to punch its way out of my chest. I am absolutely spiraling, but externally? I could use a whole day of reading, specifically Carmilla over and over again until I forget that this is my entire crazy, completely fucked up life.
I look at Aleksandr—because what else can I do?
He finishes his tea with a slow sip, sets the mug down gently on the counter, and finally—finally—looks at me with those gorgeous, clear grey eyes.
"Let's get married."