15. Chapter 15
Sasha
Iknew something was amiss before I even answered the phone. Nothing had visibly gone wrong but the timing was off. I pulled the phone out of its hiding place and answered it, already feeling a tightening in my chest in anticipation.
It was unusual for my men on the outside to call me without having been contacted first.
“I have a feeling I won’t like what you’ll have to say.”
There was a brief pause on the other end. The kind of pause indicating the speaker had already considered how to phrase what came next.
“Probably not, boss.”
“Talk,” I sighed, scrubbing a hand down my face.
“There’s a man.”
My back went ramrod straight and something cold settled beneath my skin, spreading slowly and deliberately until it reached everything.
The sentence itself meant nothing, but I didn’t like the tone he’d used. Something was wrong.
“Define that for me,” I said, my voice even enough it gave nothing away.
“He’s been around her building,” the voice continued carefully. “And it ain’t random. We didn’t flag it immediately because he kept distance at first but he’s consistent. He watches her.”
I leaned back against the wall slightly, letting my gaze drift unfocused across the room as I listened. Even before he had finished speaking, I had already formed a picture in my head of what was going on, and I knew where this was going.
“For how long?”
“Two weeks confirmed. Possibly longer … but he escalated recently.”
Of course he did. They always did, eventually.
Watching was never enough for men like him. Watching turned into wanting, and if this urge was left unchecked, it always turned into something uglier.
“Meaning?” I needed them to clarify but because I wanted to hear it stated exactly for what it was.
Another small pause. “He’s been following her.”
I didn’t respond for a moment, not because I didn’t know what to say, but because I was choosing very carefully what not to do. Under the circumstances, this required significantly more effort.
My first instinct — the immediate, violent one — was to have them put an end to it.
To remove the variable.
To solve the problem as efficiently as possible and move on.
But I wasn’t ready to leave yet, and if anyone was going to do it, I wanted to be the one.
They told me he was average and forgettable. The kind of man who slipped through spaces unnoticed because there was nothing about him worth noticing in the first place, which made him infinitely more dangerous than the ones who announced themselves too loudly.
The kind that blended in.
The kind that waited.
The kind that learned routines and mistook access for entitlement.
I exhaled slowly through my nose, feeling my jaw tighten as the mental image took shape.
“Has he touched her?”
“No.”
The answer was immediate and without hesitation, easing some of the pressure in my chest. It wasn’t entirely gone, but it was under control for the moment. If the answer had been anything else, this conversation would have been very different.
“Does she suspect anything?”
Another pause, shorter this time. “No.”
Of course she didn’t.
Addy’s openness would have been admirable in a different context, in a safer environment. But I’ve already learned the hard way how people exploit this kind of access when they think no one is watching.
I closed my eyes briefly and dragged a hand over my jaw. Irritation turned into something sharper and more personal, directed not just outward, but inward as well. Something feeling horribly like anxiety and fear.
“He’s inserting himself into her life slowly.”
I let out a quiet, humorless breath.
And he probably thought he was being subtle about it.
My fingers flexed slightly at my side; the urge to act — to do something immediate and irreversible — was stronger now that I could see the situation clearly.
“We can remove him,” he offered after a moment. The words were neutral and professional, as if we were discussing logistics instead of a man who had decided, for reasons I couldn’t quite comprehend, he had any fucking right to be anywhere near her.
For a second, I considered it.
Not because I needed time to decide, but because I wanted to understand exactly why the answer wasn’t as simple as it should have been.
It would be easy and clean. Efficient, even.
But it would be deeply unsatisfying.
“No,” I said finally, the word quiet but absolute.
There was a slight shift on the other end.
“Boss—”
“No,” I repeated, slower this time, letting the weight of it sink in. “You don’t touch him. You watch him closely. I want to know everything: His routine, his contacts, where he goes and how often and how long he stays. I want to know what he does when he thinks no one is watching.”
“We already have eyes on him.”
“Not enough,” I snapped.
It came out sharper than I intended, but I didn’t correct it.
“Maintain constant surveillance. I want no gaps. There is zero room for error here.”
A pause.
“And her?”
I exhaled slowly.
“And her,” I confirmed. “All the time.”
“If he changes behavior,” I went on, choosing my words with more care now, “if he pushes further, if he escalates in any way — you intervene.”
“How far do you want us to go?”
I leaned my head back slightly and stared up at the ceiling as I considered it — not the action itself, but the line I was willing to draw without being there to enforce it personally.
“You’ll make it clear she’s not alone.”
“And if that’s not enough?”
A slow smile pulled at the corner of my mouth, though there was nothing remotely amused in it.
“Then you call me again.”
“Understood.”
The line went dead a moment later.
I lowered the phone, holding it loosely in my hand for a moment longer before putting it away.. My thoughts were already moving ahead, circling back and replaying the details with increasing precision.
Someone had been watching her, following her, familiarizing themselves with her.
My hand tightened slightly at my side as a different line of thought began to take shape, slower, more deliberate, and infinitely more dangerous.
I wondered how long it would take him to understand. Not now, but later, when he realized — too late — he had been the one under observation all along. I tilted my head slightly, considering this scenario, which unfolded quietly in the back of my mind.
This wasn’t just about what he had done. It was about what he had presumed he could do.
The sense of entitlement.
The audacity.
The simple, unforgivable assumption that he could have her.
My jaw tightened again.
Soon.
The word settled heavily and firmly into place.
Soon, I would be free. I wouldn’t have to settle for second-hand reports and controlled restraint, which increasingly felt like a liability, nor would there be any distance between us.
Until then, she would be watched. Constantly.
And I’d make sure choosing her would be his last mistake.
After years of being locked up, one would think patience would be one of my strong suits. And it usually was. Just not today.
Ever since I received word of the message being delivered to her, I had secluded myself in my bunk with my phone clutched in my hand. She would follow the instructions. She fucking had to, or I’d lose my shit.
After seeing her, letters weren’t cutting it anymore. The need to access her, to immerse myself in her thoughts and life, had grown deep inside me, burning hot and mildly irritating.
Addy was too curious not to message me, but I also had a feeling she could also be stubborn. She had to know this was coming from me, or at least she had to be suspecting it.
Patience, I reminded myself. I hadn’t risen through the Bratva or secured my position in Blackwood by acting on impulse. I learned early on the most effective pressure was applied slowly and deliberately until the other party stopped resisting, without ever realizing it had happened.
The phone vibrated once in my hand.
Online.
I imagined her staring at the screen, weighing up her curiosity against her instinct for self-preservation and pretending these two instincts weren’t intimately familiar with one another.
She was probably telling herself this didn’t mean anything yet.
Telling herself opening the app was one thing, but speaking was another.
Telling herself she was still in control.
People always thought so right before they crossed a line.
The moment stretched as I waited, listening to the low murmur of the block, the distant clang of metal on concrete, the subtle shift of power coming with being watched and not interrupted.
There was no need to rush her, she’d already crossed the threshold. When I finally moved, it wasn’t impatience prompting it. It was the simple understanding that curiosity, once properly engaged, should be rewarded before it turns into second thoughts.
I typed.
You took longer than I expected.
Addy: I’m assuming this is the part where I pretend this is normal.
I was wondering if curiosity would win or if you’d argue with yourself for another ten minutes.
Addy: Wow. No hello, no explanation, no “sorry I sent a stranger to ambush you like a spy thriller extra.”
Addy: Bold choice. You could’ve just asked for my number like a normal person.
Normal is inefficient.
And this didn’t leave anything to chance.
Addy: That’s one way to frame “unnecessarily dramatic.”
This was safer. More private.
Addy: And what could we possibly need privacy for?
Addy: Why do you even have a phone? Like, how?!
Don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answer to
Addy: You’re severely underestimating my curiosity
And you’re severely underestimating what kind of position you maneuvered your pretty little ass into.
Addy: You realize I could still delete this and ruin your night.
You could. It’s not like I could stop you.
You won’t, though.
Addy: You’re enjoying this a little too much.
I’m finding I enjoy everything about you.
And I enjoy you pretending this wasn’t inevitable while proving it was.