Chapter 26
Rafaele
The basement storage room at Il Lusso is lined with blood and bullets.
Maybe not literally, but it's seen its share.
It's a bad idea to be down here alone with me, and I think Carter knows it.
Sloane looks like she did the time I pushed her up against the one-way glass, like she doesn't trust me to keep it under control.
She's half-excited, half-terrified. It's nothing new, but she still doesn't get that the part of me she's afraid of is the part she owns.
"They don't keep bodies down here, do they?" Her voice is casual, but I see the edge beneath it.
"Not since last Tuesday." Her eyes go wide, then she catches the smirk on my face and punches my shoulder. "Rafe." Her smile is equal parts relief and warning.
I fold my arms, lean against the wall, and take in the sight of her.
She stands with her arms crossed, her posture stiff and wary.
She wears a tight black tank top and a maxi skirt, her dark brown hair pulled up into a messy bun.
The smattering of freckles across her nose dances as her eyes flicker around the room, taking in the cement walls and floor, the gunmetal gray lockers and the single bench seat.
"You'll get the truth you want," I say. "Tonight." I see a glimmer of doubt in her eyes, but she doesn't waver.
"Think Reyes will talk?" I give her a long, deliberate look, letting the question hang in the charged air between us. "Think he'll have a choice?" I ask, raising an eyebrow as I lean back against the cool brick wall.
Her grin flashes across her face, quick as lightning, before it vanishes, replaced by a more serious expression.
She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, arms crossed over her chest. "This isn't a game," she says, her voice softening like a whisper on the wind.
"What if… What if I don't want to know?"
"Then you wouldn't be here," I reply. She watches me intently, her eyes narrowing as if she's trying to see beneath my skin, searching for any sign of weakness, expecting me to falter.
"I don't know, Rafe," she finally says, her tone laced with uncertainty. "You're taking a big risk, bringing me here. I might crack."
"Cracking is the plan, Carter." We fall into a momentary silence, the distant sounds of Il Lusso seeping through the walls, a bass beat thumping like a heartbeat, a faint laugh echoing, a muffled shout piercing the quiet. Then she straightens her shoulders, lifting her chin with newfound resolve.
"Why couldn't we just talk to him back at the house?" she asks, her eyes locking onto mine. I meet her gaze, my answer as hard and unyielding as steel. "Because Ethan is more scared of the Callahans than he is of you," I say, my voice carrying the weight of the truth.
She has that soft touch, the kind that slips under your skin and digs its claws in, the kind that turns my world upside down every time she so much as glances my way.
"Bad idea to be down here alone with you," she says, her smile teasing and dangerous, sending my mind into a tailspin.
"Thought you liked bad ideas," I say as I push away from the wall, stepping closer to her.
Her green eyes catch the low light, and my blood turns to fire.
My breath hitches, and I feel the heat rising in my chest.
"Better watch out, Rafaele. Or I'll crack you too." She draws my name out, teasing, a smirk playing on her lips as she leans against the wall, arms crossed. "Like you haven't already," I retort.
"Maybe I'll run. Maybe I'll save myself." She shifts her weight, eyes daring me to react. I growl and step close, the space between us charged, electric. My hand brushes against hers, igniting a spark. "Think I'll let you?" I murmur, inches from her face, my voice low and steady.
I see the defiance in her eyes, the reckless daring that drives me nuts.
Her chin lifts, challenging me with silent strength.
"How long is this going to take?" she asks, tapping her foot impatiently.
I pull away, laugh low in my throat as I pace slowly, letting the tension build.
"You in a hurry?" I ask over my shoulder, glancing back at her.
"A little," she admits. "You'll have to be patient," I say, crossing my arms. "Yeah?" She arches an eyebrow.
"Leo might have found a way to get in a few good punches first," I say, watching her reaction closely. Her eyes narrow slightly. "Is that the plan? Letting your brother soften him up?"
"Maybe," I say. I give her the look that drives her insane, the one that says I own the place, the world, and her. She doesn't flinch, holding her ground. "I want the truth," she demands, a challenge in her voice as she crosses her arms defiantly.
I nod, slow, careful, considering my response.
"It's the only thing you're getting, princess.
But it's not going to be pretty," I warn.
I want to tell her that I'll drag the truth from Reyes if I have to.
That she's with the wrong man if she wants soft edges.
But she already knows that, and she's still here.
She chews her lip before she finally answers. "Pretty is overrated." I stare at her, letting her see every hard edge, every dark corner.
I cross my arms, feel the leather of my gloves tighten over the bones beneath. She watches me like she's seeing a storm. "Worried what I'll think of you?" she asks. "Worried I'll be scared?"
"Won't be the first time you've seen me like this." She tilts her head, and it's the cutest thing. The cutest fucking thing. "Or the last," she says.
Before I can answer, we hear footsteps. Leonardo shoves Ethan inside and gives me a nod.
Ethan's face is a mixture of fear and defiance, with a bloodied lip and a bruise forming around his eye.
His hair is a mess, his clothes rumpled, and there's a haunted look on his face that wasn't there when we last saw him at his apartment.
"You got this, brother," Leo says. Then he looks at Sloane, raises one eyebrow. "You sure you want to be here?"
"Duh." Leo leaves with a quick grin, then we're alone. Just me, Sloane, and Ethan fucking Reyes.
"You?" Ethan's voice is barely a whisper, his eyes wide and wild. He doesn't know whether to be pissed or terrified. "Me," I say. "But it's her you gotta watch out for."
I nod toward Sloane, and as soon as Ethan sees her, he breaks out into a sweat. "I didn't kill her. I swear to God, I didn't touch her," he says. His voice cracks with genuine emotion. It's not all fear – there's grief there too, raw and unmistakable.
I step closer, my voice calm and deadly. "No one said you did." Ethan's eyes flick to the locked door. "Then why the hell am I down here like an animal?"
My lips curve. "Because you know who did." Ethan flinches. I study him. This isn't guilt. It's fear.
Ethan takes a step back, but I block his way. "Don't try it, Reyes," I growl. "You know it won't end well." He shifts his feet, moves like he's trying to think of an escape.
"I can't tell you anything," he says, eyes flicking from me to Sloane and back again. "You will," I tell him. "One way or another." He stumbles over his own words, his own fear.
"You don't know what you're asking," he says. "You don't know how dangerous it is." He shakes his head, panicked, cornered. "Please," he says. "Please, Sloane. You don't understand."
I crack my knuckles, slow and deliberate. Ethan's eyes are fixed on my hands. He doesn't know if I'll use them or not, and it scares him more than the idea of the Callahans.
His eyes flick to me, pleading. There's a desperation in them that wasn't there when we dragged him from his apartment. A wounded animal look that makes me think there's more to this story. Sloane clears her throat.
"Ethan, please. Just tell me what happened," she says. He goes quiet. His shoulders slump, like he's carrying a weight too heavy to bear.
I hit him once, and the breath leaves his body. My fist connects with his stomach, not full force, but enough to double him over.
Sloane's mouth is a tight line, her eyes on mine. But she doesn't flinch. She's tougher than I thought.
Ethan doubles over, pain racking his thin frame. When he straightens up, there are tears in his eyes. Not from the blow – these have been building for weeks.
He looks at Sloane, sees her relentless eyes, and it breaks him. "She found money," he gasps. "In her accounts."
I glance at Sloane, watching the way her expression changes. "The Callahans?" she asks.
"I didn't want her involved," he says, his voice thick with emotion.
"I fucking loved her, Sloane. I warned her.
I told her to leave it alone. But Maddy…
she was fire, you know?" He swallows hard, a sob caught in his throat.
"She figured out something wasn't right with the money.
She saw transfers. She thought someone was laundering through the ring. "
Sloane freezes. "Was she right?"
He nods, pain in his eyes. He looks down at his hands, like he can't bear to meet her gaze.
"The Callahans got access to her accounts somehow.
Not through me – I swear to God. I'd never do that to her.
" His voice breaks. "They ran cash through them, keeping it out of their own so it wouldn't get back to the Roset—to you.
She found out. She fucking flipped. Said she'd go to the cops, or tell your dad, Sloane, or…
I don't even know. She was scared. And she was pissed. "
I let him talk, watching as he gets tangled up in his own words, in his own emotions. There's real grief there, raw and ugly. It almost makes me feel sorry for him.
"She wanted to confront them," Ethan says. "I tried to stop her. I tried." Sloane's face goes pale, then red, then pale again.
"She never listens," Ethan says, his voice breaking. He corrects himself: "She never fucking listened." Sloane wraps her arms around herself like she's the one who just got hit.
I feel the rage, the frustration, the fucking helplessness. Sloane's fists curl at her sides.
"She died because she tried to stop it," she says. Ethan's voice cracks. "She died because I didn't stop her hard enough."
"Who gave the order?" I ask, my voice dropping low. Silence stretches before Ethan whispers, "Connor Callahan. He said she was a liability. Said he'd make it quick."
"Did you try to warn her?" I press.
Ethan's laugh is broken, hollow. "I did everything I could.
I begged her to leave town. I offered to go with her, to start over somewhere else.
" His eyes are haunted. "She told me to fuck off.
She thought she was invincible. Thought she could handle it herself, that nobody would dare touch a grad student with no criminal record. "
Sloane laughs now, the sound ragged and joyless. "She wasn't," she says.
The room falls silent except for the faint bass thumping above us. Sloane's quiet steel cuts through the hush: "Why didn't you say anything when I came to you before? Instead of tying me and locking me up, you could have just told me the truth."
I punch Ethan, sending a sharp crack echoing as he crumples to the cold, unforgiving concrete.
The dull thud reverberates in the air. "That's for touching my girl," I growl before delivering a brutal kick to Ethan's stomach, eliciting a pained groan.
"And that's for hurting her. Now get the fuck up onto your feet and answer her damn question. "
Ethan struggles to his feet, his breath ragged and shallow. There's something broken in him, something that goes beyond the physical pain. He meets my eyes fleetingly before averting his gaze to the dusty ground. "I didn't tell her because—"
I lunge forward, my fist smashing into his nose with a sickening crunch, feeling the cartilage give way beneath my knuckles. "You're answering Sloane, asshole. So look at her."
His eyes reluctantly shift to my girl, and fury flares within me, an animalistic urge to rip his eyes out just for daring to look at her, though I just demanded it. I force myself to hold back, for now.
"I..." Ethan starts, his voice small. He takes a deep breath, wincing as it pulls at his bruised ribs. "I was scared the Callahans would kill me. But that's not all."
He looks directly at Sloane now, something broken but honest in his gaze.
"I thought if I told you everything, you'd go off half-cocked like Maddy did. You're just like her – too brave for your own good." A tear mixes with the blood on his face. "I couldn't have another death on my conscience. Not yours too."
His voice trembles, but there's a ring of truth to it.
I stare at him, reassessing. There's something genuine in his pain, something that goes beyond fear for his own life.
"I loved her. I swear to God, Sloane. I loved her." His voice breaks. "I'd have died for her if I could have. But she was so fucking stubborn." A small, sad smile touches his lips. "Just like you."
Sloane's voice breaks as she replies: "Then you should've protected her."
We hold a long, heavy silence. Ethan finally sinks into a chair, his head in his hands. His body shakes with silent sobs. The tough Red Hook enforcer is gone, replaced by a grieving, broken man.
I grab Ethan by the collar, lift him to his feet. "This is what's going to happen now," I say. "You're going to leave. You're going to keep your mouth shut. And you're going to wish to God you're not in my way the next time I come looking for you."
He nods, understanding. I unlock the door, but I don't leave.
I look back at Ethan and say flatly, "If you're lying about any of this, I'll know. And I won't be scared to act."
"I know," Ethan whispers, the fear returning to his eyes. But there's something else there too – a quiet resignation, an acceptance of his fate. "I loved her, Sloane. I couldn't save her. Maybe you can at least make sure she didn't die for nothing."
Sloane watches him, her expression softening just a fraction. She doesn't forgive him, not entirely. But something in his broken confession has reached her.
"I will," she says quietly. "For Maddy."