16. Finn
Finn
W e are all present and accounted for as dictated by Big Bad Boone. I know he called this meeting for a reason, but he hasn’t said a damn thing yet. And I want to know what spooked my girl enough to make her try to run on her own without even saying goodbye to me.
Boone is by the fireplace in his authoritative stance—his feet spread wide, his arms crossed over his chest, and this smug look on his stupid face.
Jonah isn’t sitting either. He looks like he’s one cup of coffee away from running a mile in five minutes flat. Ani and I are on the couch. Her hands are clasped in her lap, and she’s sitting up ramrod straight.
She hasn’t said a word since we sat down.
Boone’s waiting. He’s watching her the way he watches an oncoming storm.
Ani lifts her chin and stares straight at Boone.
“My name is Anoush Sarkissian,” she tells him, finally giving him the information he’s been demanding. “I’m from Brighton Hills, California.”
Boone’s expression doesn’t change.
“My father is Anoushavan Sarkissian,” she goes on. “He deals in real estate in Brighton Hills. If he doesn’t own the land, he owns the people who do. But that’s only what he does on the surface.”
Jonah braces himself. Boone doesn’t blink.
Ani keeps going.
“I was raised in a glass house—figuratively and literally. Cameras followed my every move and security followed right behind them. I lived by rules that applied only to me. I was kept far away from my father’s shadier business dealings but I wasn’t blind.
It was always about control. Who had it, who didn’t, and what it cost to get more of it. ”
She shifts her hands, unclasping them just to clasp them again.
“I was engaged to a man I didn’t choose. Davit Petrosyan. He’s the son of one of my father’s business associates, an old family friend. He’s ruthless, successful, and most importantly, Armenian. That’s all that mattered to my parents. I didn’t love him. I didn’t even like him.”
Jonah starts pacing.
“He was cruel. I can paint lies about how he was just mean-spirited or rude, but I'm trying to be more honest with myself. He was cruel. Polished in public. But behind closed doors, he made it clear who I belonged to. I was an asset, a pet to be trained, nothing more.”
Something sharp wedges itself beneath my ribs. But I don’t dare interrupt.
“I was told what to wear, where to go, when to smile. What to eat. What to say. What not to say. My job was to be agreeable. Pretty. Silent. I did it my whole life because I didn’t know how not to.”
Her gaze flicks to Boone again. Then away.
“But I wanted more. I just never had the courage to reach for it.”
She glances down briefly and looks back up.
“The night before the wedding, I saw the future. Not like a psychic or anything, just a glimpse into what mine would be like. And I realized it wasn’t mine. It was Davit’s.”
Jonah exhales heavily behind me, but Ani doesn’t stop.
“So I ran. I packed a bag. Took the money I’d managed to hide over the years. Stole one of the housekeeper’s cars and I left. No destination. Just drove away with no plan.”
She leans back slightly, squeezing her hands together a little tighter. I can’t take it anymore, I reach over and pry them apart, lacing her fingers with mine and giving her a little squeeze of reassurance.
She’s stronger than I even realized and all I want to do is hold her and tell her this will all be okay. I need it to be okay for her. She deserves the goddamn world and I’ll be damned if she doesn’t get it. I’ll do whatever it takes.
She’s mine. I’m laying claim. And, when she’s ready to hear it, I’ll make sure she knows exactly how I feel. Because she’s not just mine, I’m hers.
“I made it as far as the motel. Booked a room, paid in cash, and signed in under a false name. Thought maybe I’d figure out the rest in the morning. You know the rest.”
She stops for a moment, thinking about what she wants to say next.
“I didn’t have anything to do with that fire. I?—”
“We know that,” Jonah rasps before she can finish. His voice is tight. “No one is saying you did.”
“Actually, someone is.”
Her eyes flick to Boone.
Mine and Jonah’s do too.
“What?” Jonah snaps. “Who?”
Boone lets out a short breath through his nose. “Guy showed up at the station today. Had a photo of her. Said she was seen near the motel before the fire started. Claimed she was involved.”
“That’s bullshit,” I say.
Boone nods once. “I know. It was electrical. Old system. Faulty breakers. I already saw the original report. No accelerants. No signs of arson. But the guy wasn’t looking for facts. He was looking to stir shit up.”
“Who was he?” Jonah demands.
Boone’s jaw flexes. “Didn’t give a name. Drove a black Denali, out-of-state plates. Too polished for a PI. Too smug for someone with a badge.”
“And you didn’t think to mention this earlier?” Jonah’s voice spikes.
“I’m mentioning it now,” Boone says coolly.
“It’s why I was leaving.”
“You were leaving ?” Jonah asks.
She ignores him and continues on. “It was a warning. That’s how they operate.
Just enough pressure to make you sweat. Just enough to remind you who’s in control.
Right now it’s just a witch hunt. They’re hoping word will get back to me and I’ll come home on my own, but they’re not afraid to hunt me down if I don’t. ”
It’s a hunt. And she’s the prize.
Ani doesn’t look away from Boone.
“My father and Davit are sending me a message.”
Boone watches her closely, frowning.
“Davit’s connected,” Ani says. “Not just to my father’s business. To judges. Private security. People who follow orders without asking questions.”
Jonah mutters a string of cuss words.
“Davit was never just controlling. He was strategic. Calculated. Every word, every deal, every gift—there was always a reason.”
She twists her fingers in her lap again.
“I was raised to understand power. My family operates in the shadows. They were very good at looking clean while everyone else did the dirty work.”
Her voice softens. Not out of weakness but exhaustion.
“I thought I could disappear. Be careful enough. Stay gone.”
She finally looks at me.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think they’d get this close. I should never have stayed.”
“Bullshit. We want you here.”
“I’m putting Mae in danger by being here, Finn.”
“You’re not leaving!”
“There’s more.”
I shift toward her without touching her. I’m afraid if I pull her into me like I want, she’ll stop talking. We need to know everything so we can protect her from it. I’m not giving her up. Not when I just found her.
“I checked my social media. It was just one site. I thought it would be harmless. I didn’t post anything. I didn’t even stay logged in. I just wanted to see what I could find out.”
Her hands are folded again, tight and white-knuckled.
“There were messages,” she says. “Dozens. From friends, family, Davit. From people I don’t know. And then there were posts. Public ones. They’re trying to find me. And they’re not being subtle about it.”
“What kind of posts?” Boone asks, his voice quieter now. Still edged.
She closes her eyes for a second. “Videos from old sorority parties. Screenshots of texts I sent years ago, totally out of context. Half of it’s edited or twisted.
Some of it’s flat-out fake. They’re calling me unstable.
A danger to myself. Saying I ran because I couldn’t handle the pressure.
That I broke off the engagement in some dramatic meltdown. ”
My blood boils.
“They’re laying the groundwork,” she says, finally looking up again. “To make whatever comes next look justified.”
The room goes still.
Ani turns to me. And for the first time since this started, she lets it show—the fear. The shame.
My blood is pounding so loudly I can hear it in my ears.
It’s a steady thrum of rage and helplessness I don’t know how to stop.
Boone is mid-sentence when I abruptly reach over and wrap my arms around Ani.
She startles at the sudden movement, gasping as I pull her into my chest. But then my arms are around her and she melts against me.
She presses her face into my shoulder and I can feel the tremble move through her. I hold her tighter. She’s fucking shaking.
And I’ve never hated someone more than I hate Davit Petrosyan.
Her fingers clutch the back of my hoodie. Mine stay firm across her back, anchoring her to me because it’s the only thing I know how to do.
I don’t care that Boone’s still talking.
I don’t care that Jonah’s one breath away from going nuclear.
I need to hold my girl.
Boone pulls his phone from his pocket, already swiping and scrolling. “We’ll need screenshots of everything. We need to know who posted what, what accounts they came from, timestamps—anything that can be traced.”
Ani nods, but her face is pale.
“Do you still have access to the messages?” he asks.
“Yes,” she says, voice quieter now. “They’re still in my inbox. I didn’t delete anything.”
Boone nods once. “We’ll take care of it.”
She starts to shift like she’s about to move, but fuck that. I’m not letting her go. I keep my arms locked around her, my hands still pressed to her back. She hesitates, like she’s going to argue—then doesn’t.
Two minutes later, Boone returns with the old laptop. Ani is right, it really is ancient. He sets it on the coffee table and steps back.
I reach forward, open the lid, then slide it into Ani’s lap. She shifts, her back now snug to my chest. My chin hovers just above her shoulder.
It takes her a minute to pull up the social media site. She logs in, her fingers shaking.
The inbox loads slowly. When it finally finishes, the screen is flooded with messages.
“There are new ones,” she tells Boone. “But, all the early ones are here too. I didn’t delete anything, so it’s a clear picture from start to finish.”
She clicks on one of the anonymous messages. It just says: You don’t get to hide forever, bitch.