Chapter 21 No Mask #2
It had been Rafael. The whole fucking time.
The man who'd been in Declan's life for years, who'd offered help and shown up at the fights with concern and advice, who'd integrated himself so thoroughly that suspecting him had felt impossible.
He'd been using that position to watch, to gather information, and to strike when we were most vulnerable.
My phone was ringing and I pulled it out to find Luka's name on the screen.
“It's Rafael,” I said when I answered.
Silence. “What?”
“The attacks. All of it. It's Rafael Varela. I chased him, fought him. He got away but I saw his face.” My voice was steadier than I felt. “Luka, it's been him the entire time.”
More silence, then I heard Luka talking to someone else in a rapid exchange I couldn't make out.
“Where are you?” Luka asked.
“Rooftop. Six blocks south of where you last saw me.”
“Stay there. We're coming to you.” His voice was firm. “Troy. Do not go after him alone. We handle this as a team.”
“He's been in Declan's life for years. He knows everything, where we live, where we work, our patterns.”
“I know.” Luka's voice softened slightly. “Which is why we need to be smart.”
The call ended and I stood there watching Chicago go about its business, completely unaware that somewhere in those streets was a man who'd turned friendship into surveillance and trust into a weapon.
Snow kept falling, sticking to my jacket, melting on my face, mixing with blood I couldn't be bothered to wipe away.
How long had he been planning this? How far back did the deception go?
The roof access door banged open and I heard footsteps on gravel. Dmitri appeared and took one look at me. He swore in Russian.
“Can you walk?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. Because Luka is very angry and wants you in the car immediately.” He grabbed my arm and started moving. “We leave before police arrive.”
We made it down the fire escape to find Dmitri's SUV idling at the curb, Luka already out of the driver's seat and crossing to me in three long strides. He grabbed my face and turned my head to examine the damage, his expression carefully blank but the calculation happening clearly behind his eyes.
“Get in the car. We're going back to the house. Ash has Declan.” He released my face. “We need to move. If Rafael knows we've identified him, he'll either run or escalate.”
I climbed into the back seat, Dmitri got in beside me, and Luka drove.
“Tell me exactly what happened,” Luka said, eyes on the road but his full attention on me.
I walked him through it. The chase, the fight, the moment I'd pulled off the helmet and seen Rafael's face.
Luka listened without interrupting. When I finished, he was quiet for a long moment.
“He wanted you to know,” Luka said finally. “The chase, the confrontation, letting you see his face. All of it was deliberate.”
“I figured that out.”
“Which means this is escalation. He's moving from hidden threat to open warfare.” Luka's hands tightened on the wheel. “The question is why now.”
“We were getting close,” Dmitri said. “The warehouse, the phone, the surveillance footage. Maybe he decided to control the reveal.”
“Or he wants us focused on him specifically,” I said. “Looking at Rafael instead of whatever else is happening.”
“You think there's more?” Dmitri asked.
“I think Rafael's too smart to be working alone and too connected. He's had years to build this. One man can't sustain that without support.”
Luka went very still. “We need to get back to the house. I'll explain everything there.”
“Explain what?”
“How I know Rafael Varela.” His voice had gone flat and empty. “And why this is my fault.”
“Luka—” Dmitri started.
“Not now. When we're back, when everyone can hear it.” Luka's jaw was tight. “This conversation happens once, and it happens with Declan present. He deserves to know what his trust was used for.”
We drove the rest of the way in silence.
We pulled into the neighborhood to find security already repositioned, at least six men around the house, armed and alert. I got out of the SUV with my whole body aching and my ribs screaming with every breath.
The front door opened and Declan stood in the doorway. He took one look at me and his expression shifted from worried to terrified.
“Troy.” He crossed the distance between us, hands going to my face, gentle despite the obvious panic. “What happened?”
“It's Rafael. He's behind everything, the attacks, all of it.”
Declan went very still. “What?”
“It's been him the whole time. Your friend. Your business partner. He's been using that access to hunt us.”
The color drained from Declan's face. “That's not possible.”
“I saw him.”
“You're sure?”
“I'm sure.” I grabbed his hands and held on.
Luka stepped forward and extended his hand. Declan looked at him, at the hand, and shook it with a brief and formal grip.
Declan pulled his hands away from both of us and stepped back, his expression shuttered. “I need to make some calls. People need to be warned.”
He walked back toward the house like he was on autopilot.
I started to follow. Luka caught my arm.
“Let him process,” Luka said quietly. “This is a betrayal that cuts deep. He needs time.”
“We don't have time.”
“We have enough for him to make calls.” Luka pulled me toward the house. “Come inside. You need medical attention. Then we talk.”
Inside, Ash appeared with the first aid kit and started working on my face without asking, cleaning the blood, then setting my nose with a sharp movement that made stars explode behind my eyes.
“You're lucky,” Ash said. “Could've been worse.”
“Doesn't feel lucky.”
“No. I imagine it doesn't.” He finished with the bandages and moved to my hands. “Luka wants everyone in the living room when you're patched up.”
Declan was in the kitchen finishing his calls, his voice calm, describing the situation like he was talking about the weather instead of someone trying to kill us. He ended the call when he saw me, set the phone down, and looked at me with eyes that had gone too empty.
“Mara's pissed,” he said. “Sarah's scared. Everyone else thinks I'm paranoid.” He laughed, short and bitter. “Guess they'll find out I'm not.”
“Declan—”
“Luka wants us in the living room.” He moved past me.
I followed him to find Luka standing near the window staring out at the street, Dmitri on the couch, Ash in the chair. Declan sat on the arm of the couch and I stood beside him, close enough to touch if he needed it.
Luka didn't turn around immediately. When he finally spoke, his voice was different, quieter, carrying weight I'd never heard in it before.
“Rafael Varela wasn't always Rafael Varela,” Luka said.
“That's a name he built. Before that, he was someone else. Someone I knew very well.” He turned to face us.
“His real name is Rafael Konstantin. Ten years ago, he was one of mine.
He wasn't a soldier. He was my strategist, my architect, the man who helped me build half of what I control now.”
I'd never heard Luka talk about his past like this, and the revelation made my skin prickle.
“He was good at it,” Luka continued. “Better than good. He understood power and how to move pieces without being seen. We built the network together, the connections, the influence, the infrastructure that made me untouchable.” His hands clenched at his sides.
“And then he got ambitious. He started making moves without consulting me, building his own power base using resources we'd created together. I gave him a choice, step back or leave completely.”
“And he chose to fight,” Dmitri said quietly.
“Yes. He tried to take what we'd built and turn my people against me. So I destroyed him, systematically and completely. I turned every ally he had, burned every bridge, made sure no one in our world would work with him.” He paused.
“He survived. Disappeared for a few years and I thought he'd accepted it.” He looked at Declan.
“I was wrong. What I didn't know was that he rebuilt his life here in Chicago under a new name.”
“To get revenge,” I said.
“Yes. But not just revenge. Rafael doesn't think that small. He wants me to understand what it feels like to lose control, to watch everything crumble the way his did.” Luka's eyes met mine.
“And you're one of the things I value most. That's why he's targeting you specifically. He knows that hurting you hurts me.”
“So this was never really about me,” I said. “It was about using me as a weapon against you.”
“It was about both.” Luka moved closer. “Rafael is strategic. He wouldn't waste this effort on simple revenge. When you came back to Chicago, when you had history and emotional attachments here, that made you useful in ways that went beyond just hurting me.”
“Declan,” I said, and felt the understanding land cold and sharp.
“Yes.” Luka looked at Declan. “Rafael had been in your life for years before Troy came back, which means he positioned himself deliberately. All of it was preparation for a move he knew would come eventually.”
Declan had gone very still. “He knew Troy would come back?”
“He probably suspected it, and may have engineered circumstances to make it more likely. Rafael understands people. He would have known someone like Troy couldn't stay away forever. And when he did come back, Rafael would already be in position.”
“So everything was a lie,” Declan said, his voice hollow. “The friendship. The business partnership. All of it.”
“I don't know,” Luka said, and his voice softened slightly. “Rafael is capable of genuine connection. But he's also capable of using those connections as tools. With him, the line between authentic and strategic is deliberately blurred.”
“Why didn't you warn me?” Declan's hands were clenched into fists. “Why didn't you tell me years ago that this man was dangerous?”
“Because I didn't know he was here. He changed his name, changed his appearance enough that recognition wouldn't be immediate, and built an entirely new life with documentation that would pass any background check.” Luka's voice was steady.
“I had no idea Rafael Varela was Rafael Konstantin until tonight.”
“He used me to get to Troy to hurt you,” Declan said.
“Yes. And he knew about the two of you.” Luka's voice was careful.
“A man like Rafael would recognize an attachment immediately and understand exactly how to use it, not because he cares about the particulars, but because he sees attachments as pressure points.
Ways to divide a person's focus and force mistakes.”
The implications turned my stomach. Rafael had been watching us and understanding what was developing between us probably before we'd fully acknowledged it ourselves.
“The attacks were designed to isolate Troy,” Luka continued. “Strip away his support, make him feel cornered, force him to rely on people Rafael could monitor or influence.”
“So what does he actually want?” I asked. “Beyond hurting you through me.”
“I don't know yet. But Rafael doesn't want simple revenge. He wants more than that. He wants to prove a point.” Luka's voice went hard.
“Which is why we find him, get answers, and end this before he can execute whatever he's building toward.
But we do it carefully, because Rafael knows we're coming now.
He'll be prepared. He'll turn every advantage we think we have into a trap if we're not smart about it.”
Rafael had engineered all of it, the attacks, the fear, the isolation, all designed to make me feel exactly how I felt right now. He wanted me cornered and desperate, ready to make mistakes. He wanted me to be the weapon he could aim at Luka.
That was fine. I'd be a weapon.
Just not the one he was expecting.