Chapter Thirty-Three
Bianca
I jolt awake to the sound of my phone blaring on the nightstand.
It’s dark — that thick, disorienting kind of dark where I can’t remember what time it is, or even believe the numbers glaring back at me from my alarm clock. I blink some sense into myself and grab my phone off the nightstand. The screen glows with Alex’s name, and my heart drops straight into my stomach. Something’s wrong. It has to be. There’s no other reason she’d call me this late at night, because she’s never been the type to drunk-dial.
I answer fast. “Alex?”
Her voice is a ragged mess, choked with uncontrollable sobs and desperation that grabs hold like a vice. “Bianca — oh God, Bianca — it’s gone.”
My pulse slams against my skin like a captive trying to escape. “What’s gone?”
She hiccups through her breath. “The bakery. Butter the dark presses down on me. I’ve been fighting so damn hard to keep Safe House clean. To keep it honest. To save it. And now the entire event might fall apart. All because I tried to live up to my ideals. I thought I could bring in the money without bringing in the Moretti stain, but Victor’s made sure I remember the cost of cutting him out. That I’ll never escape him. Not really. Unless I cave. Unless I drag his dirty money into our fundraiser and let it poison the whole damn thing. There’s nothing I can do, except call my brother, work something out, and hope that I can figure out some other way to pump a bunch of sugar into everyone going to the fundraiser.
Unless…
“I’m calling for backup,” I say. “The fundraiser is still on. I’ve got a plan. We’re going to make this happen no matter what you-know-who might try. I’ve got this, Alex.”
The words shoot out before I’ve even processed them, and I hear the shock in her silence. I want to believe them too. I have to. I’m so sick of feeling helpless, of letting my brother tear everything apart while I scavenge for leftovers. Alex sniffles. “You’re serious?”
“Dead serious. Go back to sleep if you can. I’ll handle this.”
I hang up before she can ask any more questions. Now isn’t the time for questions. Now is the time for answers and solutions.
I tap Tank’s name without thinking.
He picks up on the second ring. Like he was waiting for me. Or maybe he just doesn’t sleep. Or maybe, since he’s a baker, it’s only natural for him to be up this early in the morning. Hell, he’s probably already got his fists deep in some dough, so what I’m about to ask him — this giant favor — won’t be that much of an inconvenience. Maybe. I hope. I need him. Need him to say yes.
“Hey,” he says, voice gruff and alert. “You okay?”
I blink. “Why are you awake?”
“Bakers and soldiers,” he says. “We keep weird fucking hours. I’ve been up for a while. What’s going on?”
His voice grounds me. Steady. Solid. I take a breath and push forward. “Remember how I told you I had someone else doing desserts for the fundraiser?”
“Yeah.”
“Well,” I say, swallowing hard. “Turns out I was wrong. Very wrong. Their bakery blew up. So… I need to ask you a favor.”
There’s a pause. Then Tank says, “You want me to save your ass, huh?”
I close my eyes and sigh. “Yes. Please. I need you.”
I can hear the smile in his voice, even through the phone. “Then it’s a good thing I’ve been prepping dough since midnight.”
My lips twitch. Relief floods me, warm and dizzying, and I have to bite my tongue not to burst out laughing. “You have?”
“I have.” Tank grunts. “You just tell me how many mouths I’m feeding, and I’ll be there. We’ll make it happen.”
“Oh, my god. Fuck, oh my god. Thank you.” Then, before I can say anything more, I hang up and stare at the ceiling again as a giant smile crawls across my face.
Victor tried to knock me down.
But tomorrow, with Tank at my side, I’m going to show him what happens when I get back up.