44. Rafi
44
RAFI
M axine is standing exactly where Tayana said she’d be—beside the control tower, a hardcase bag at her feet. She’s a slight figure against the backdrop of the setting sun, the warm hues casting her in a silhouette. But she doesn’t look at us as we approach. Her head is tilted back, her eyes fixed on something far above, her expression unreadable.
I step out of the car first, my boots crunching against the gravel, the tension in my chest growing heavier with each step. “Maxine,” I call, my voice steady despite the tightness in my throat. “Are you okay?”
Her gaze drops slowly, recognition dawning like a shadow passing over her face. There’s a flicker of something—relief, maybe—but it’s fleeting. She nods once, but it feels hollow. Her eyes dart back up to the sky, her lips parting slightly as though she’s still watching something only she can see.
I follow her gaze, squinting against the sun’s glare. A plane slices through the sky, its tail disappearing into the thick clouds that have rolled in. My stomach twists.
“Maxine,” I say again, stepping closer. “Where’s Tayana?”
She doesn’t look at me. Instead, she lifts a hand, pointing toward the plane now swallowed by the horizon.
“She’s gone home,” Maxine says softly, her voice steady but eerily detached. “Home, handsome one.”
The words punch me in the chest, sharp and disorienting. For a moment, I can’t move. I stare at her, searching her face for some sign that she’s joking or mistaken, but there’s nothing there—only a calm acceptance that makes my pulse thunder in my ears.
“Home?” I echo, my voice rough. “What the hell does that mean? Where is she?”
Maxine doesn’t answer. She just drops her hand and looks back up at the sky, as if Tayana’s absence is a reality so obvious it doesn’t require explanation.
Sergio steps forward, his movements careful, almost reverent, as he places a hand on Maxine’s elbow. “Let’s get you in the car,” he murmurs, his tone soothing. He leads her toward his car, guiding her gently into the back seat. She doesn’t resist, doesn’t protest, just lets him buckle her in like a child being tucked into bed. The bag she’d been holding is placed beside her, a silent reminder of her ordeal. Mason slides in next to her, his hand covering hers in quiet reassurance.
I don’t follow. My feet feel rooted to the ground as my mind races. Tayana wouldn’t just leave. Not like this. She told me to come here, gave me a location—she wouldn’t vanish without a word.
I pull my phone from my pocket and dial her number, my jaw clenched so tight it hurts. The line rings once, then twice, before going straight to voicemail. I hang up and call again, my thumb trembling over the screen. Nothing. The same hollow beep, the same automated message.
Frustration claws at my chest as I turn to Kanyan, who’s leaning against the hood of the car, watching me with a careful, measured gaze. His calm only fuels my agitation.
“Call Leo,” I snap at Jayson, my voice sharper than intended. “I need him to track this number. Now.”
Kanyan doesn’t move immediately. He watches me for another moment, his mouth pressing into a thin line before he pushes off the car and walks toward Sergio’s vehicle. He leans into the window, exchanging quiet words with Maxine. I can’t hear them, but I see Mason’s brows furrow, his hand tightening over hers.
When Kanyan returns, there’s something in his expression that makes my chest tighten even further—a hesitation that I don’t want to acknowledge.
“Well?” I demand.
He exhales through his nose, dragging a hand over his face. “She was on that plane, Rafi. She went willingly.”
The words hit me like a slap, my mind rejecting them immediately. “No,” I say, shaking my head. “That doesn’t make sense. She wouldn’t just—she wouldn’t leave like that.”
“Maxine’s lucid,” he continues, his voice low but firm. “She said Tayana went voluntarily with Igor and her father.”
My breath catches. Her father. The word rings in my ears, bitter and alien.
“She wouldn’t do that,” I insist, my voice rising. “Not after everything. Not without telling me.”
Kanyan steps closer, his hands up in a gesture of calm, but it only stokes the fire burning in my chest. “Rafi,” he says carefully, “if she believed going back with them was the only way to protect?—”
“She wouldn’t leave me,” I cut him off, my voice hard, final.
His silence is worse than anything he could say.
I look past him to Maxine, now sitting silently in the car. She’s staring out the window, her face pale but serene. For a moment, I wonder if she’s the only one who understands what Tayana’s choice really means.
“She made her decision,” I mutter, forcing the words out even as they taste like ash on my tongue. I turn toward the car, my movements stiff, mechanical.
“Rafi,” Kanyan starts again, but I don’t let him finish.
“Drop it,” I say coldly. “She made her choice. Let’s just get Maxine home.”
The weight in my chest doesn’t lift as I slide into the driver’s seat. If anything, it grows heavier, sinking deeper into the pit of my stomach.
The engine hums to life, and the car rolls forward, but my mind stays locked on the plane that disappeared into the clouds. On Tayana.
She made her choice.
So why does it feel like she took my heart with her?
There’s something about bringing one person home while losing another that digs its claws into your chest and doesn’t let go. It’s a cruel kind of bittersweet. I should feel relieved. Lucky’s home, sprawled out on the couch in Scar’s living room with his legs up, where the family can keep an eye on him. His injuries will heal. Maxine is back too, though she’s a shadow of herself. But Tayana? Tayana’s gone.
Inside, the house buzzes with life, but it feels like all the noise is coming from a distance. I stand just outside the doorway, my boots scuffing against the porch as the distant echoes of reunion drift through the air.
Maxine’s wail cuts through the air, sharp and raw, and I imagine her collapsing into Mia’s arms, whispering and sobbing, a fragile heap of disbelief and relief. I should go in, but my feet won’t move. I don’t want to bear witness to Maxine’s relief as it cracks and the truth about Sophia comes crashing down on her.
I turn away, the weight in my chest pressing harder with every step I take. My head is spinning, filled with the chaos of everything that’s happened. Daniel Russo is dead. Maxine is where she belongs. Lucky will survive. But Tayana? She flew off in a plane with the man who stole Jacklyn’s revenge, and with him, she took every ounce of hope I’d dared to hold onto. I don’t know if I’ll ever see her again.
The thought seizes my throat, tightening it until I can’t breathe.
“Rafi,” Scar calls out from behind me, his voice low but insistent.
I stop at the base of the stairs, clenching my fists to steady myself. I don’t turn around. I don’t want to see what I know I’ll find in his eyes—pity, concern, questions he won’t dare to ask. I can’t handle it right now.
“You should go back inside,” I tell him, my voice rough, uneven. “Your family’s waiting for you.”
Scar doesn’t budge. I can feel his presence like a weight on my back. “ You’re my family.” And Allegra will kick my ass if you miss family dinner tonight,” he says, his tone lighter, trying to coax me back.
I glance over my shoulder toward the house. Through the bay window, Kanyan stands with his hands shoved deep in his pockets, watching me like he’s waiting for me to break. His expression is unreadable, but his presence feels like a silent reminder of everything I’m trying to forget.
I shake my head and turn away again. “I’ll try to make it,” I mutter, but the words are hollow, an empty promise we both know I won’t keep.
Scar doesn’t push. He lets me go, and I feel the weight of the world closing in on me as I walk away.
My house feels suffocating even before I’ve set foot inside, filled with a loneliness I can’t face right now. Instead, I grab my motorcycle, the rumble of the engine roaring to life beneath me like a promise of escape. The wind whips against my face as I ride, the fading sun dipping low on the horizon.
I don’t have to think about where I’m going. My hands guide the bike instinctively, the road stretching out in front of me until I reach the lookout.
The spot where I once brought Tayana.
The view is breathtaking, the city sprawling below in a sea of twinkling lights. I cut the engine and step off the bike, the silence rushing in to fill the space. My boots crunch against the gravel as I walk to the edge, leaning against the railing.
It’s quiet here, too quiet, and that’s when the memories hit.
Tayana’s laughter, soft and unguarded, as the city lights danced in her eyes. The way she leaned over the railing that night, her hair whipping in the wind, her voice filled with wonder as she talked about dreams she wasn’t sure she could chase.
I grip the railing tightly, my knuckles whitening. She didn’t belong in my world of violence and shadows, but selfishly, I’d wanted her here anyway. I’d thought I could keep her safe, keep her mine . But I was wrong.
My chest feels hollow as I stare out at the skyline, the memories swirling around me like ghosts. Tayana made her choice to leave, and that’s a decision I have to respect.
But why does it still feel like she’s here, haunting every corner of my mind?
I let out a sharp breath, my hands shaking as I scrub them over my face. I don’t know how to let her go. I don’t even know if I want to.
The sky darkens, the stars beginning to peek through the inky black. I stay there, watching the city below, as the weight of everything presses down on me. The lookout feels emptier without her.
And so do I.