Chapter 19
Nineteen
“There’s no such thing as clean hands when you’re caught between the law and the lawless.”–Aria Boschett.
Iglance at my watch, irritation coiling in my gut.
Where the hell is Ethan?He’s over twenty minutes late.
At first, I planned not to show up, but guilt gnawed at me.
Ethan took a brutal beating because of me, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I owed him this conversation.
So, I texted Johnny—told him I had a late client meeting, something tedious with numbers that could drag on for hours.
I promised I’d text when it wrapped so he wouldn’t waste time sitting in a car out front.
He didn’t buy it at first. Came up to my floor, checking the conference room.
I made sure he saw me sitting in on a meeting I didn’t even need to be at.
I left after him, taking the next elevator down.
A coil of unease knots in my stomach. My plan is simple: meet Ethan, shut down whatever insane idea he has about me helping him, and walk away.
I’m tired of people thinking they can push me around.
For a moment, I thought Ethan might be a way out of Cyan’s control, a lifeline.
But… it’s trading one devil for another?
A sharp car horn echoes through the underground parking garage, jolting me.
My pulse kicks up as I spin toward the sound.
A white delivery van pulls into the unloading zone.
I watch as the driver steps out, and it’s not Ethan.
She moves with practiced indifference, opening the back doors without a glance in my direction.
Tension knots tighter in my stomach. If Ethan doesn’t show in the next few minutes, I’m leaving.
The flickering overhead lights hum, the sound making my nerves itch. The emptiness of the garage amplifies every little sound: the scuff of my heels against concrete, the occasional creak of metal. What the hell am I doing here? This is reckless and stupid.
Meeting Ethan now feels like stepping off a ledge, with no idea what awaits below.
I scan the parking garage again, searching for anything off, but there’s no one else.
Just me, the delivery driver, and the oppressive silence stretched between us.
The woman moves quickly, unloading box after box of stationery; her actions are mechanical.
My gut tightens. It’s late—too late for a standard delivery, a shiver skates down my spine.
Is she one of Cyan’s people? She pushes her trolly of boxes my way, and I take a step back, when the delivery driver passes close enough for me to hear her murmur under her breath.
“Aria, check the van. There’s a package for you.”
I freeze. “What package?” No response.
The woman keeps walking, pushing her trolley toward the building’s back entrance.
My heart pounds as I glance toward the open van doors.
This is a bad idea. I force myself forward, peering inside.
Rows of boxes, printer paper, staples, standard office supplies; nothing unusual.
Then, a stack of boxes shifts and swings open like a trapdoor.
Ethan sits inside a hidden compartment, flanked by an unfamiliar woman and another man.
“Hurry. Get in, Aria.”
A car door slams somewhere behind me. Instinct takes over, and I climb in without thinking. The second I’m inside, Ethan pulls the hidden panel shut. “You’re late!”
Ethan holds up a finger, pressing it to his lips for silence. My skin prickles with unease. The van’s back doors slam shut behind me. A short while later, the vehicle jerks forward, rolling out of the parking garage. Only then does Ethan finally speak.
“Sorry, Aria. I know we’re late. The guards around the building increased, so we had to wait for an opening.
Now, let’s get down to business.” I sit stiffly in the cramped van, spine straight, every nerve on edge.
“Aria, this is Special Agent Lia and Special Agent Alex... from FBI’s Organized Crime Task Force. ”
Agent Alex wastes no time. “Miss Boschett, we’ll cut to the chase. Your boyfriend, Cyan, is dangerous. We need your help to bring him down.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I snap.
“Well, from where we’re sitting, it sure looks different. You’re chauffeured around by one of the Ten Irish Fists. No one drops half a million on cars with bulletproof glass for someone insignificant,” Alex scoffs, his tone laced with disgust.
“Those aren’t my vehicles,” I grit out.
“They were purchased in your name,” Agent Lia interjects
My stomach lurches. “What?” I don’t miss what they’re doing: good cop, bad cop. Alex plays the brute, and Lia is the rational voice of reason.
Ethan leans forward, voice dropping into something conspiratorial.
“Aria, it doesn’t matter what you think.
What matters is that Cyan thinks you have value.
That alone puts you at risk. You don’t understand…
Cyan’s called ‘The Púca’ because he’s like a ghost in the underworld.
He moves in the shadows, dominating the Boston syndicate.
If we don’t take him down now, he won’t just be Capo of Boston.
He’ll be Don of the entire syndicate.” Ethan runs a hand through his hair, exhaling.
“I know I’m asking a lot, Aria… but trust me. We wouldn’t steer you wrong.”
I swallow hard. Funeral dates. Those words Cyan whispered to me the night we met resurface like a ghost. “Absolutely not. You’re asking me to risk everything. My life, my family’s safety!”
“Calm down, Miss Boschett,” Alex sneers. “You don’t really have a choice. Either you help us, or you go down with him.”
There’s a buzzing in my ears as icy dread spreads through me. “What the hell does that mean?”
Alex’s smirk is razor sharp. “Accessory after the fact. We have you on tape. You knew about the assault on Detective Ethan.”
“I only came here to tell Ethan I wasn’t interested in whatever deal he cooked up. I know nothing!” How many times do I have to keep saying no? Why aren’t they listening to me?
“Look, Aria, I didn’t have to tell them anything,” Ethan cuts in smug. “But everyone knows,” Ethan spits. “You’re fucking him.”
My body goes rigid. His words slam into me. I narrow my eyes. “Screw you, Ethan. You’re just jealous. I’m not screwing you.”
“Bitch,” Ethan shifts abruptly. Agent Lia presses a hand to his shoulder, shoving him back into his seat.
“Keep your mouth shut, rookie, or you’re off this operation.” Ethan glares but obeys. I flip him off.
Lia sighs and turns to me. “Aria, listen. Whether or not you realize it, you can get us the information we need. Once Cyan is taken down, we can put you and your family into witness protection.”
I meet her gaze, my voice trembling despite my best efforts. “Say I do th-is. Say I ag-ree to help you. Can you guarantee my family and friends will be safe?” Silence. No one speaks. “That’s what I thought. My answer is still no.”
Alex’s jaw tightens. “You think you have a choice? You’re mistaken. Either you do this, or we arrest you.”
“W-what? I have broken no laws.”
“You have,” Alex smirks. “Accessory after the fact. That’s enough to put you behind bars, and when we bring Cyan down, do you really think he’ll protect you?”
A shrill beep cuts through the van. Lia glances down at her phone, reading the message before cursing under her breath. “We have a problem. Your driver just discovered you’re missing. He’s already contacted Cyan. Our agent saw him on the phone. Cyan is tracking you now.”
Ice floods my veins—funeral dates. “How is that possible? I left my phone in my desk drawer!”
Lia’s eyes flick to mine. “ Did Cyan give you anything? A gift?” Panic coils in my chest. I shove back my sleeve. The bracelet.
“Get rid of it. If Cyan can track it, he’ll be on us,” Alex snaps.
“I can’t! It doesn’t come off.”
“Fuck...” Alex swears.
I grab the van’s interior handle. Panic surges through me, a tidal wave of dread. “Stop the van. Let me out. Now.”
“We can’t stop here. This isn’t the best part of town,” Ethan says.
“I don’t care. It’s better Cyan finds me here than with you.”
Ethan curses and pounds on the divider. “Stop the van. Now.”
The driver slams on the brakes; the van jerks to a halt; the driver opens the back doors, and I scramble out, heart hammering in my chest.
“We’ll contact you,” Agent Lia says as I step out. “Look out for the purple sticky note at your desk. Think about what we said, Aria. Call Ethan if you need anything. We’ll be in touch.”
I don’t acknowledge her; don’t turn back as I walk away.
The van’s tires screech as it speeds off, leaving me alone on a dimly lit street I don’t recognize.
Where the hell am I? The sun has already set, and a crisp evening chill snakes through the air.I glance around and realize I don’t recognize the area.
Warehouses. Empty streets. This isn’t good.
A single streetlight flickers weakly overhead, casting long, distorted shadows.The bus stop sign ahead is a small mercy.
Checking the schedule twenty minutes until the next bus.
My phone, useless, is sitting in my desk drawer.
I’m so stupid. So fucking stupid. I could kick myself twice for meeting Ethan.
This was a huge mistake. Should I keep walking?
The neighborhood is too quiet, too deserted.The only person I’ve seen is a man bundled in layers, muttering to himself on the sidewalk.
He doesn’t even glance my way. He’s not a threat. But I’m on edge.
I curse under my breath. How the hell did I let myself get roped into this mess? Then movement catches my eye to the right. Two figures step out from a warehouse entrance—coats too expensive for this part of town.Immediately, my instincts flare.
They don’t belong here. Neither do I. They start toward me. The taller one angles my way as they close the distance.
“Well, hello there.” My hands tighten into fists.
Please, bus, show up, and where the hell is Cyan?
I thought he was tracking me. I stare straight ahead, willing them to ignore me.
However, I’m not that lucky; it seems my luck has officially run out.
The taller man positions himself directly in front of me, blocking my view of the street.
“What, you got no manners? Didn’t you hear me talking to yous? ” His accent is thick—East Coast.
I swallow hard, keeping my voice even. “I’m just waiting for the bus. Not looking for trouble.”
A sneer curls his lips. “We’re trouble? Yous think you’re better than us?” I shift, trying to step around him, but he moves with me, cutting me off.
The second man speaks up. “Leo, she’s not worth it. We need to be in and out. Your father said… draw no attention.”
Leo—now I have his name. “Shut the fuck up, Davide. This bitch needs to be taught a lesson.” A flash of silver catches my eye. A knife. My pulse skyrockets. This is bad. “Listen, bitch. Yous so much as flinch, and I’ll gut you like a pig in the street.”
Davide glances around, nerves obvious. “Come on, Leo, let’s go. If Cyan finds out we were in his territory without permission, it’s our heads.”
They know who Cyan is. I use it, forcing steel into my voice. “Cyan MacBrady will kill you for touching me.”
Davide stills. “Leo, let’s go.” He sounds agitated now. But Leo isn’t listening. His hand lashes out, grabbing my arm and dragging me closer to him. “Leo,” Davide presses, “if she’s telling the truth, Cyan knows her. Th—this could turn into a problem.”
Leo’s grip tightens. The inhuman gleam in his eyes sharpens as he presses the blade into my side—just enough to sting. “That’s why we can’t leave her. Yous’re an idiot, Davide. The chick knows our names. What do you think will happen when she tells him?” My eyes widen in fear.
Davide doesn’t look convinced. “Leo… your father…”
“Shut the fuck up, Davide. This bitch needs to be taught a lesson. How dare she threaten me? Besides, we still have hours before our flight. Either I fuck her or I’ll be fucking yous.
Now do as I say. Go wait in the car.” Davide flinches but turns, heading for the car.
Leo smiles, all teeth and yanks me roughly by the arm.
“Move, bitch.” I stumble, but he doesn’t care, dragging me toward the nearest alleyway.
“Please… No, no, no.” I kick out, trying to slow him down, but he’s stronger.The knife bites into my ribs, nicking my skin in warning.
“Try that again and I’ll start carving you up now,” he hisses in my ear. My heartbeat is deafening as he pulls me into the alley. It’s dark, secluded; perfect for what he wants.
He shoves me hard against the wall, my head hitting the cold, dirty brick.I’m going to die, and there’s no escape. His hands are feeling me up; greedy, bruising. “What luck, huh? Found myself a prize.”
I tremble uncontrollably, tears streaking down my face. “Please don’t do this,” I beg.
He grinds his hard length against my stomach. I’m going to die. Desperation fuels me. I slam my knee up into his crotch with every ounce of strength I have.
Leo yelps, but instead of retreating, he smirks. “Oh, you’ve got some fight in you.”
The slap comes fast. My head snaps back against the wall.
Stars explode in my vision, pain blooming along my jaw.
Leo grips my chin, forcing my head up.“I like them feisty.” Out of nowhere I hear a pop.
A wet splatter hits my face.Leo’s fingers slip from my jaw.
He wobbles, eyes blank—blood spilling from a hole in the side of his skull.
Then he drops, the impact echoing, a sickening thud of dead weight hitting the pavement.
There’s no sound except my heavy breathing.
I’m gulping in air, yet I still can’t get enough.
My breath heaves in my chest, and my gaze snaps up to the shooter.
Cyan, dark pinstripe suit, cold eyes, gun still raised. His expression? Pure, merciless rage.
The words I spat earlier return with stunning clarity: Cyan MacBrady will kill you for touching me.