25. Chapter 25
The cacophony of the crowded mall fades into white noise as I weave between displays of garish luxury, my eyes darting, my body coiled tight.
I”m a fox passing through the henhouse, wary of the pecking order. The other women shoppers eye me with thinly veiled disdain, their judgment searing into my back.
I”m in a designer outfit that Gerald had waiting for me in my wardrobe when I arrived here, but in my mind I”m in a worn cardigan and sensible shoes that scream imposter amidst their designer brands and socialite gossip.
I yearn to melt into the crowd, to camouflage myself among their carefree laughter and trivial concerns. PTA problems. Drama with local charity events.
But I know better. There’s no real hiding for me here. I’m simply on borrowed time, my leash extended only so far.
The fact Gerald let me out on a shopping trip without a team of chaperones is a small miracle, but he seems particularly distracted by work lately.
I jumped at the chance to slip away, even if only for an hour or two.
A prickling on my neck turns my blood icy. I”m being watched. Is it one of Gerald”s men, sent to monitor my activities? I turn slowly, my muscles tensed to bolt.
”Alina? Alina Petrov?”
My gaze collides with warm brown eyes set in a chiseled face. Caution floods my mind. I resist the urge to glance around for Gerald”s goons. Perhaps this man is one, a new hire, sent to follow me around and report back.
The man closes the distance between us, his movements fluid yet non-threatening. He”s playing this smart, not spooking the skittish target. Me.
”Got a minute to chat?” His voice is low, meant only for me. ”I”m Agent Morello. FBI,” he says, discreetly removing an item from his pocket and flashing it to me. It”s a badge. And I”m no expert, other than what I”ve seen in the movies, but it looks legit.
I fight the questions rising in my throat. The middle of a crowded mall is no place for this conversation. But when will I get another chance?
I force myself to nod, despite every self-preservation instinct screaming otherwise.
Morello gestures to a quieter corridor off the main thoroughfare.
I follow on leaden feet, hyperaware of everything around me. The murmur of shoppers fades as we walk, replaced by the rapid buzz of my pulse in my ears.
Morello stops and turns to face me. His eyes are intense but kind, radiating a gentle concern that puts me on edge.
What”s his angle here?
”I know you”re in a tough spot, Alina,” he begins, his voice pitched low. ”I want to help get you out of this situation, if you”ll let me.”
My lips twist. ”Help? From a cop?” I utter a harsh laugh. ”Where I”m from, your kind don”t help people like me. Unless there”s something in it for you.”
Morello”s brow furrows. ”I”m not like the police where you grew up, Alina. My only agenda is making sure you”re safe.”
I shake my head, bitterness welling up to coat my tongue. ”Safe? You don”t know the meaning. Men like you promise protection with one hand and demand payment with the other.” My voice drops to a ragged whisper. ”There”s always a price.”
Morello looks stricken. In another life, I might have felt bad.
But right now, I need to protect myself. From enemies seen and unseen.
No matter how kind the eyes watching me seem to be.
Morello”s eyes darken, his mouth pressing into a thin line. For a moment, he looks every inch the imposing figure of authority I”ve learned to fear.
”I understand your skepticism,” he says finally, a hard edge to his voice now. ”You”ve been failed before by people meant to uphold justice. But not everyone is corrupt.”
His words pluck a chord deep inside me. I want to believe him, want to grasp at the fragile hope he offers. But I know better.
”Maybe you”re different,” I reply slowly. ”But I can”t take that risk. Where I”m from, trust gets you killed.”
I expect Morello to argue, to push his point. Instead, he nods, almost sadly.
”You”re wise beyond your years, Alina,” he says. ”Forced to grow up too fast, like so many others are. I”m sorry the world has given you so many reasons to doubt.”
His empathy catches me off guard. For a moment, we simply look at each other, separated by a gulf of experience.
In his eyes, I glimpse understanding, not judgment. It stirs an unwelcome feeling—a desire to close the distance between us. To allow someone to truly see me.
The urge terrifies me. I take a step back, steeling myself once more.
”I should go,” I mutter. ”He”ll be looking for me soon.”
Morello looks like he wants to object. But he simply nods again, handing me a card.
I briefly glance at it, noting the agency emblem.
”If you change your mind, call anytime. I meant what I said, Alina. I want to help you.”
His fingers brush mine as I take the card. A spark shoots through me at the contact.
Wordlessly, I turn and disappear into the crowd, his gaze burning into my back.
I hurry through the crowded mall, Morello”s card clutched in my hand.
My heart is racing, my thoughts a turbulent mess.
Part of me wants to trust him. He seems so different from the corrupt officials I”ve known—sincere, empathetic, willing to help without expecting anything in return.
But I know such men are rare, if they exist at all.
And even if Morello is one of the good ones, he doesn”t understand the world I come from. A world where people with power use it only for themselves, where no one helps without wanting something.
I should throw this card away, forget I ever spoke to him.
It”s too dangerous to get involved.
Gerald would kill us both if he found out.
Yet even as my head screams caution, my heart whispers hope.
What if Morello really can help me escape? He knew my name, he must know about Gerald and his dealings.
Maybe he has a plan.
I halt, closing my eyes. I see my mother”s face, weary and resigned, telling me to keep my head down, not draw attention.
She tried to protect me from harm by remaining invisible.
But I don”t want to be invisible anymore. I want my freedom. And Agent Morello represents my first real chance at getting it.
I open my eyes, my resolve hardening. I tuck the card securely into my pocket.
When I get back to the mansion, I”ll hide it somewhere safe.
And when the time is right, I”ll call.
My heart pounds as I make my way back to the mansion, Agent Morello”s business card burning a hole in my pocket. I move swiftly through the expansive rooms, hyperaware of the cameras tracking my movements.
In Yara”s suite, I scan for any hidden devices before carefully stashing the card in a slit cut into her mattress. Our only private space.
I sit on the edge of the massive four poster bed, my emotions swirling. Hope and fear tangle within me, but my desire for freedom emerges as the dominant force. I”ve not been here long, but I”ve already spent too much time under Gerald”s thumb. Initially veiled as caring, his intimidation has shifted into blatant threats.
Running my fingers over the satin comforter, I allow myself to imagine a different life.
A small apartment filled with books and art that Yara and I would choose together.
Friends to share secrets and dreams with.
A guaranteed three meals a day.
No more jumpiness at sudden noises, no more living in terror of displeasing Gerald or Luchenko or any other man.
We don”t need all the bells and whistles of a millionaire or billionaire lifestyle.
We just need safety, security and each other.
The image propels me to my feet. I go to the window overlooking the sculpted gardens. Somewhere out there, Morello is waiting to help, asking nothing in return.
I see now that trusting him is worth the risk.
Squaring my shoulders, I make a silent vow.
I will escape this place.
I will take back my life.
A tremulous smile tugs at my lips as I gaze out at the horizon.
With this unexpected new ally, maybe now I have a real chance.