Chapter 31 Leanna
LEANNA
Thank God for small miracles. I slipped out of the hotel in stealth mode, no father, no brothers, no watchful goons breathing down my neck.
By the time I make it outside and into a cab, the adrenaline drains, leaving me hollow. Empty but resolved. My chest aches like I’ve just walked out of a battlefield.
My phone buzzes, and I see Maria’s name lighting up the screen. I swipe to answer, and her face fills the frame, her eyes immediately scanning me like she can see right through the storm I’ve been holding in.
“Leanna…hey. You look…absent. Everything okay?” she asks, her voice thick with concern.
I force a small smile, trying to make it sound casual. “Yeah…everything’s fine. Really.”
She frowns, not convinced. “You don’t sound fine. Talk to me.”
I almost brush it off, but the lie catches in my throat. And in this moment, Maria feels like the only safe place I have left.
“My plan…was to make it through the Commission like a good little soldier, then enjoy one last week with my college friends. And then…Saturday, I walk across that stage and collect my diploma. Because, dammit, I earned it.”
Maria’s face lights up, and relief washes over her features. “Lea…that’s exactly why I called. I’ll be there. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
My heart skips. “You’re…coming?”
“Of course.” She shakes her head, smiling like I’m ridiculous for doubting. “I already feel proud of you, and I haven’t even seen you in your cap and gown yet.”
I feel the warmth creep into my chest, a fragile anchor in the mess of my mind. “Thanks, Maria. Hearing you saying that…it actually helps.”
She leans closer to the screen. “I wouldn’t tell you if I didn’t mean it. You’ve worked too hard for this. So promise me you’ll hold onto that focus for the next few days. One week, Lea. You can do this.”
I nod, a little shaky, but grateful. “I promise.”
She grins, giving me a thumbs-up through the screen. “Good. And hey…look alive on that stage, okay? We’ll take a lot of pictures, and I want to celebrate my badass friend.”
I managed a real laugh this time. “You got it.”
She winks and says, “Love you.” Then her face disappears as the call ends.
I stare at the blank screen, the weight of everything pressing in on me. If only I could tell her the truth, that I’m planning to grab my backpack, slip into my new identity, and vanish on the first flight out.
I will, when the time is right.
Because the truth is, I want to graduate.
God, I really want it.
I’ve worked my ass off for this. Every grade, every sleepless night, every ounce of effort was mine, not my father’s name, not his money, not his power.
All mine.
And the idea of walking away before I get to cross that stage, before I hold that diploma in my own hands, feels like a loss I can’t explain. That moment shouldn’t feel out of reach. It shouldn’t feel like a luxury.
But right now, it does.
I know it’s silly because I still earned the degree. It’s just a ceremony. But it’s also the last sliver of normal I have left before my life gets ripped into limbo.
“Hey, you okay back there?” the driver asks, glancing at me through the rearview as we turn down my street.
I’ve been sobbing ever since the call with Maria ended, my chest still tight, my eyes burning. Of course, he’s concerned.
And I can only manage, “Yeah. I’m fine. Thanks for asking.”
“You sure?” he asks, clearly dubious as he pulls in front of my building.
I throw him some cash, way more than required, and just say, “Yep. I’m good now. Thanks.”
I shut the door behind me and brace myself.
The place is dead quiet. No music, no laughter, no chatter from my friends. They’re probably out celebrating, drinking like the world isn’t collapsing.
Honestly, I prefer it that way.
I can’t bear the thought of plastering on a smile, pretending I’m fine, pretending this is just another night when everything inside me feels gutted.
The apartment is silent when I step inside. Too silent. Boxes line the walls, taped and stacked, ready for moving.
My heart sinks. This place, these rooms, have been my sanctuary. And now, it might be the last time I ever see them.
I don’t bother with the lights. The fading light through the windows is enough. I’m not staying long.
All I need is my backpack and a few essentials. Then I’m gone, off to start a new chapter of my life.
In my small bedroom at the back of the house, I shove the rack of clothes aside and reach for the backpack I’ve kept hidden.
Then, I kneel, reaching for the box of cash from under the bed.
It’s not there.
My breath stops. I turn on my phone’s flashlight and peer underneath, but it is gone.
The air thickens, and the hairs rise on the back of my neck.
Someone is here.
I stand, slowly, scanning the room, and out of the corner of my eye, a shadow emerges from the dark, tall, broad, and familiar in the worst possible way.
“Vince,” I whisper, and it’s barely audible.
He tosses the box of money onto the bed. Wrapped stacks of bills fall out.
“So this is all from him?” he asks, voice low, venom dripping from each word.
“Him?” I try to sound innocent.
“The Russian fucker,” he spits.
“I don’t…know who you’re talking about,” I say.
Vince shakes his head slowly, like I’ve just insulted his intelligence.
“Don’t lie to me. I had someone follow you, Leanna.
Every damn week, you went into Ahren, sometimes for hours at a time.
Were you fucking him for money? Pretending to fuck him for money?
Feeding him information so he could make a fool out of us at the Commission? ”
I stammer, my throat raw. “I—”
“It’s so pathetic,” he says. “I couldn’t figure it out for the longest time.
Why were you going to that Russian strip joint every week?
Who were you seeing in there? It was driving me insane.
And then you and he were eye-fucking each other the whole time we were at the meetings, and it clicked. So what did you tell him about us?”
“Nothing,” I say. My heart is about to jump straight out of my rib cage, I swear.
My brother steps around my single bed and gets in my face. “Don’t. Lie.”
“I swear,” I say. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Vince lets out a short, ugly laugh. Then he pulls something from his back pocket with a smirk on his face. “Well,” he says, almost cheerfully, “at least I get to have some fun.”
I try to run, but he grabs me by the hair. I yelp in pain as he wrestles me back, pinning my arms behind my back as he slides something over my head.
Everything goes dark. Before I can fight back, my wrists are yanked behind me and cinched tight with a zip tie. I lose my balance and hit the ground hard, my head smacking against the floor.
He tries to force me to my feet, but I kick out blindly, my foot connecting with his shin. He grunts and stumbles.
But then his boot drives into my ribs repeatedly. Pain explodes through my side, each kick stealing the air from my lungs. I scream, but it only makes him laugh. Not because it’s funny. Because he enjoys it.
I can’t breathe; each gulp of air burns. My hands are useless, bound tight, so I curl my knees to my chest, trying to shield what I can and wait for him to be done.
Eventually, his rage ebbs. He grabs me and hauls me over his shoulder. My ribs scream, my head throbs, and all I hear is the steady thud of his boots on the floor.
Outside, the air is cool, and I start to scream for help, but I only have seconds before I hear a beep, and I’m thrown into what I assume is the trunk of my brother’s Mercedes.
Vince’s voice drips through the dark.
“I’ve got questions for you, little whore. Little traitor. You’ll answer, or the pain keeps getting worse. Either way, Dad’s gonna know he can’t trust you with the throne.”
The trunk closes with a metallic thunk.