Chapter Eight
MILA
The house carried the hush of early morning, the scent of Edwardo’s cologne, the coffee pot gurgling in the background, sunlight stretching thin across the counter.
It should have felt ordinary. It didn’t.
Everything in our home had been wired tight since last Friday, every sound too loud, every pause too loaded.
Mom’s comment I’d overheard about Darren kept bothering me, and I had a plan to do something about it. I just needed to find out when I could.
“Morning.” I flashed a breezy smile to Mom and Edwardo as I rounded the landing and entered the kitchen, making a beeline for the coffee.
Mom sat at the table, already dressed, eyes catching everything even this early. Edwardo leaned back in his chair, scrolling through his phone with that too-casual posture that meant he was paying attention to everything.
I poured coffee, inhaling the bitter steam. “What’s on the agenda today?” I asked, leaning a hip against the counter, as though I didn’t care about the answer.
Mom’s gaze flicked to me—quick, assessing. “Nothing major. We need groceries.”
Edwardo shoved his phone into his pocket. “Might meet Dominick there if he’s around.”
Edwardo’s stepbrother. Good, the more people who didn’t have eyes on the house, the better. I took a slow sip, letting the silence stretch just enough. “That it?”
“For now,” Mom said lightly, but there was a thread under it. “Why are you asking?”
I shrugged. “Just curious, and you know… trying to show an interest in what you’re doing since you’ve been taking vacation to avoid Dunn Industries.” I air-quoted vacation. I really didn’t want her going back there anyway. But I also needed to throw her off the scent of my questions.
I had to force myself to wait to text Luke until I was out of sight.
Mom gave a small hum of acknowledgment, then reached for her mug. “Actually, we should go early, Ed. It won’t be as busy.”
Of course. Control the environment. Fewer eyes. Fewer risks.
Edwardo didn’t hesitate. “Good plan.”
I hid my smile behind another sip of coffee. Perfect.
Mom stood, grabbed her mug and Ed’s, then set them in the sink.
I set my mug down and grabbed a piece of toast, taking a bite as I straightened. “I’m heading out early.”
Mom’s eyes snapped back to me. “It’s a little early for school. You don’t usually leave yet.” She grabbed her purse from the counter then paused, waiting for my response.
Excellent. They were leaving soon. Window secured.
I shrugged, chewing. “I’m meeting Luke. I want to catch him after morning skate before school.”
Not a lie. Just not the whole truth.
Edwardo’s jaw tensed slightly, subtle but there. “Be careful.”
“I will.”
Mom studied me a second longer than necessary. Then she gave a small nod. “Text me when you get there.”
“Sure. And can you get some strawberries?” Another bite of toast. I grabbed my bag off the chair, already moving toward the door before either of them could add anything else.
Momentum mattered.
“Drive safe,” Edwardo called.
“Yeah, yeah.”
I didn’t look back. The second I stepped outside, I pulled my phone from my pocket, already dialing.
Timing. Fifteen minutes. Enough for him to finish up. Not enough for anything to shift.
He answered on the second ring.
“Yeah?”
“Meet me at my house,” I said, heading for my car. “Fifteen minutes.”
A beat. Then, “What’s going on?”
I climbed into the driver’s seat, starting the engine. “I’ll tell you when you get here.”
And I hung up before he could push.
I drove three blocks out. Waited. Counted to sixty. Then doubled back. When I pulled into the driveway, the house sat quiet. Empty.
I stayed put.
Luke’s SUV rolled up at the curb right on time. Of course he did.
Luke stepped out, shutting his door with a solid thud that carried across the empty street. He was fresh from practice—hair damp and T-shirt clinging to his broad shoulders. His gaze found me immediately, locking on and missing nothing.
I pushed out of my car and met him at the edge of the driveway.
“They’re gone. Let’s go.” I turned toward the house.
His hand caught my wrist before I made it two steps. “What’s going on? Start talking.”
I stilled but didn’t pull away. “What my mom said the other day about Darren has been bugging me,” I returned, meeting his eyes. “I want to look around, see if I can find anything she’s hiding.”
His grip tightened a fraction. “And you think it’s just sitting there waiting for you to find it?”
“I don’t think she expects me to look.”
That earned me a slow exhale through his nose. Something hardened in his gaze before he released me. “Let’s move.”
I unlocked the door and slipped inside, Luke at my back. The second it shut behind us, the air changed—thick, familiar, laced with coffee and bacon.
Luke didn’t speak. He moved. Straight to the windows. Quick checks. His presence filled the space without sound, locking it down in seconds. “Let’s get moving,” he muttered.
I was already heading upstairs. My pulse picked up, not from fear. From certainty.
Her door stood half open, and I pushed it open the rest of the way.
Everything was immaculate. The bed was made perfectly with a single framed photo of me on her dresser, younger, caught mid-laugh. It was something easy to grab and shove in a bag if we had to leave in a hurry.
Luke stayed near the doorway. “We shouldn’t take more than fifteen minutes, less if possible.”
“Yep. I won’t waste time.” I moved to the dresser first. Top drawer. Clothes folded too neatly. I moved fast, careful not to disturb the stacks. Nothing.
Second drawer—scarves. Silk. I checked seams, corners. Empty.
Third—my fingers paused. There. The wood didn’t sit flush with the frame. It was a fraction off. Barely noticeable unless you knew what to look for.
I moved my hand along the seam, pressing until the other side gave some. Luke shifted behind me.
“What did you find?”
“Not sure yet.”
The false bottom lifted just enough for me to hook my fingers under it. I felt along the bottom until I brushed up against paper. I pulled it out. It was a notebook. Black and worn at the edges.
My pulse kicked harder. I set the panel back in place before turning.
Luke had moved in behind me, close enough that heat radiated off him, his attention locked on the notebook in my hands.
I flipped it open. The first page wasn’t notes. It was a letter. Handwritten and addressed to my mom.
Adriana, my love,
There’s more at play than I’ve been able to explain. More than I wanted you involved in. But that’s no longer an option.
You’re in this now whether I like it or not, and I won’t leave you unprotected while I handle the rest. I’ll fill you in soon. Everything. No more half-truths.
In the meantime, I’ve put together a few safeguards. It’s far from everything—but it’s enough.
If you need it—take this to them. Don’t wait.
Luke leaned in slightly, reading over my shoulder. I felt the shift in him before I heard it.
A slow burn started in my chest. My grip on the notebook tightened.
Was it all a lie? Or a promise he never got the chance to keep.
Luke’s hand came to rest lightly against my lower back. Grounding. Or steadying himself. Hard to tell.
My eyes tracked the final line.
And no matter what happens: trust no one tied to King.
The world tipped. My throat closed so hard I couldn’t speak.
Luke’s body went still beside me, instantly alert. His hand shifted—barely—like his body wanted to pull me behind him, to prove he’d stand between me and anything, even ink on a page.
“What the hell does that mean?” he asked, voice low, controlled to the point of breaking.
“It means,” I answered evenly, “my mom knew enough to hide this. And Darren knew enough to warn her about your family.”
Luke’s jaw tightened, muscle ticking. His gaze flicked to the dresser, then back to me, calculating, dismantling, rebuilding all at once.
The name King echoed in my skull. Luke’s family. Luke’s father. Their world.
I turned my face toward Luke, searching for a crack, for defensiveness, for the cold certainty that he would choose blood over me. I found none. Banked rage rolled through his eyes—restraint built from discipline.
My instincts screamed run. But my hand stayed where it was, trembling against my thigh. I was done letting fear steer me. I’d lost Luke once. I wasn’t losing him to a dead man’s warning without a fight.
“I’m here,” Luke murmured.
I swallowed hard. “That line—”
“I saw it,” he replied.
“Are you going to tell me it’s wrong?” My voice came out raw. “That your family isn’t dangerous?”
Luke’s gaze held mine. Something darker moved behind it before he locked it down. “No, just that we don’t ignore it.”
“Then what do we do?”
“We take it as data. We verify. We trace the alias. We match names to timelines. And we also stop pretending my last name isn’t part of this.”
He didn’t say my father. But I heard it anyway.
“Marcus is still digging. I’ll fill you in when he finds anything.”
“Okay.” Filing that piece of information away, I turned the page in the notebook, but there was nothing there—just torn paper stuck in the metal binding, indicating whatever else had been written had been removed.
Slowly, I closed the notebook. My hands shook as I lowered it back into the hidden place in the dresser, covering our tracks.
His eyes were already on me. Storm-dark. No mask. No distance. Just raw, intense focus—emotion that edged into dangerous territory.
And something told me that whatever came next, nothing between us would stay the same.
We drove to school, and I refused to think the entire way. I didn’t want to process what Darren had written. Had he told Mom more? Or had he died before he could? And those pages that were torn out—what had she done with them?
Luke parked his SUV near the far end of the lot, pointed toward the entrance.
As I drew near, he’d already gotten out and was leaning against the driver’s side door, arms folded loosely, head slightly bowed as if he’d been running through scenarios.
When I parked, he pushed off the metal. By the time I stepped out, he was in front of me.
His hands came to my waist, drawing me in. The hug wasn’t tentative. It was firm, grounding, his chin brushing my temple before his mouth found mine in a too-quick, drugging kiss. His hand stayed at my waist a second longer before he stepped back slightly.
“You okay?” he asked.
“No,” I answered. “But I will be.”
That earned the faintest shift in his expression. “Good,” he replied. “We’re in this. Whatever it turns out to be.”
The reason Mom and I had left Blackwood—Darren lying behind King Enterprises, eyes sightless, blood pooling around him—haunted me. I held on to Luke. “Darren knew he was in danger. He should’ve left or, I don’t know, done something to stay safe.”
“Yes.”
I looked up at him. “What if we’re wrong about all of it?”
“Then we adjust,” he answered without hesitation. “We don’t guess. We get proof about who’s behind his death, and what, if anything, he had on the people or companies involved.”
I studied his face. What he left out was anything Darren had specifically on King Enterprises.
“I’m not keeping you in the dark,” he continued. “Not about this. Not about anything.”
That meant more than us finding the notebook.
But it wasn’t enough. If Darren had been scared enough to write that—then whatever we were walking into? We were already behind.