16. Isabel
Isabel
When Aiden ends the phone call five minutes later, the tension in his face only sharpens, his frustration clear in the tight set of his jaw.
“I hate to do this, but can we finish this later?” His fingers flex at his side like he’s holding himself back. “I need to call Silas before he blows a fucking gasket.”
“It’s fine.” I give him a tight smile. “I’m not going anywhere. Go do your fake bad guy shit.”
The growl that answers is low and rough, as he steps in, close enough that I feel it more than I hear it. His hand drags along my side, lingering just long enough to make it count.
“I’ll come find you when I’m done. It could be a while.” His gaze darts to the door and then returns to me. “I have to leave. Just for a few hours. I’ll be back before nightfall.”
The idea of him leaving doesn’t sit well, but I can’t keep him here. He has a job to do. One I’m not meant to be a part of.
“I’ll be fine.” I hope that’s not a lie. “Your brother and sister-in-law will make sure of that.”
“As will Lane and Pauly. I’m not leaving you unguarded. Teddy’s going with me.”
Aiden kneels beside my chair, his knuckle brushing along my cheek with a gentleness that doesn’t match the tension behind his eyes. “Bear will stay here. He’ll keep anyone who shouldn’t be here away from you and Alma.”
I nod, swallowing my words, because if I speak it’ll be a plea for him to stay.
The incessant buzzing of his phone diverts his attention before we are ready. He grunts, leans in long enough for a swift kiss, and then he’s gone, already moving toward the back of the house. The tight set of his shoulders is impossible to miss as he answers.
“Jesus Christ, stop calling me. I told you I was coming.” He doesn’t slow, keeps his pace as he drags a hand down his face. “If you ring one more time, that changes. Your threats don’t scare me. When I get to London, I’ll call. Until then, stay out of my way.”
The rest fades as he moves farther away, his voice dropping low enough that I can’t make it out, which is probably best. The less I hear, the less my mind has to misinterpret his words and worry.
I’ve met Silas. Got the impression he’s not someone you cross. I’m sure Trent is worse, and if I think too hard, the stress alone will weigh me down.
A loud bang—a door slamming—echoes through the house, and my body reacts before my mind can catch up.
My head jerks up, eyes sweeping the room as my pulse picks up, ears straining for anything else out of place.
A heavy, suffocating tension hangs in the air.
Each breath I take feels like a struggle.
Was that Aiden leaving? Or did someone just come inside?
Fuck, I really hate this newfound awareness that’s taken hold of me since my abduction. Every loud, unexpected noise sets me off; my body reacting before my brain catches up. It leaves me on edge way too long after the sound is gone.
And nights are worse. I haven’t slept properly in days, just short bursts of restless sleep that leaves me more exhausted than when I started. My brain refuses to shut off, waiting for something to happen.
I keep waiting for Rurik to show up. Expecting him to materialize out of thin air the second I let my guard down. Each time I open my eyes, they go straight to the far corner of my room, to that armchair half-hidden in the shadows.
Last night, I swore he was there. Watching me.
It wasn’t him. Only the moon’s shadow on the huge tree outside, moving in the wind. The relief hit hard… but didn’t last.
I stand, the slight dizziness in my head forces me to slow for a second before I make my way to the sink to rinse my cup. The steady flow of water gives me something normal to focus on.
I hear heavy footsteps coming up fast, so I spin around and get all woozy and kinda queasy. My hands shoot out to brace myself on the counter.
Lane freezes mid-step, guilt written all over his face for sneaking up on me like that.
“Damn fly was buzzing my head.” The lie comes out fast, brittle, and not even close to believable.
He nods, though the look he gives me says he’s not buying it. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.” Shaking my head, I turn to the window. The ocean stretches out beyond it, waves crashing against the rocks in a steady rhythm I cling to; a constant, almost hypnotic sound. “I’m sure you have somewhere better to be. A job waiting on you?”
“I do, but my hours are flexible.” He crosses to the fridge and grabs a bottle of water.
“What is it you do?”
He twists the cap off and takes a swig. There’s a playfulness in his eyes that has my curiosity piqued.
“I rob people.”
That’s…. not what I expected. “You rob people?”
He nods, like that checks out, and then motions for me to follow him, already heading down the hall.
I fall into step beside him as he continues, casual as anything.
“Pauly and I work together. We break into homes and businesses to test their security and find the weak points. He’s the tech guru—nobody hacks systems faster than Pauly.
I handle the locks. Doors, safes… doesn’t matter. ”
We step into a bedroom on the far side of the house. It’s nothing like mine. Tables crowd the space, every surface covered in monitors that throw shifting light across the room. Pauly sits surrounded by them, fingers moving fast over the keyboard while his attention splits between multiple screens.
He glances up, pauses, removes his headset, and flashes me an easy smile. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“What are you doing?” I stay just inside the doorway, taking it all in.
Leaning back in his chair, he points at the screens in front of him. “That’s a complicated question. Right now, I’m taking a break from what has turned into a fucking black-hole of information and doing something fun—breaking into a client’s financials.”
His grin widens. “He paid a company a ridiculous amount of money to lock everything down. I got in under ten minutes and was just about to trip the alarms, collect our fee, and leave the company a nice little present they won’t be able to clean up without hiring us.”
“Is that legal?” I slide into one of the empty rolling chairs, my gaze fixed on the screen.
Pauly lifts a shoulder in a casual shrug, the tip of his nose going red.
Fucking adorable.
“We warned them,” he says, leaning in, fingers moving with ease. “Told the company one of their clients hired us to infiltrate their system. Giving them ample time to fix their weak spots or bring us on to point them out. They refused. Told us they were confident we couldn’t get in.”
Reaching forward, he presses the return key, and one of his screens turns red and starts flashing.
My stomach flips, a rush of panic hitting before I can stop it. Then I see the stupid grin on his face.
Calm. Amused. Completely in control.
“It’s like stealing candy from a baby.”
Moving to the opposite side of the room, Lane takes a seat before a bank of screens, logging in like he’s done it a thousand times. “Now they want our help. How long should we make them sweat it out?”
Pauly sinks back into his chair, letting out a relaxed sigh. He places his arms behind his head and props his feet on the shaky edge of the makeshift desk.
“Thirty minutes should do the trick.” His lips twitch. “I’d say an hour, but they’ve got too many clients who depend on them. Not their fault these shitheads left a backdoor wide open.”
I rock the chair back and forth, a rhythmic creak giving my mind something to focus on. “Are there really backdoors? I thought that was pure fabrication, a cliché added to movies and books to make the plots seem more believable. Like the dark web.”
The shift is immediate. Both men go still, the ease from a second ago gone.
Lane leans forward. “The dark web is not made-up. It’s very real.”
I lift my hands, trying to soften it. “I know there’s a dark corner of the internet you don’t want to explore, but—”
“It’s not somewhere you stumble into. You have to know how to get there.
” Pauly points to a screen on his left, his expression losing its edge of humor.
“And the people there are dangerous. They don’t fuck around.
They will kill you if you find something you aren’t supposed to see.
No questions asked, nor apologies accepted. They’ll find you first.”
His warning has me nodding, feeling very well scolded for my comment. “I’m not planning on going anywhere near that. I believe you. They’re dangerous individuals. Aren’t you worried about getting caught?”
“No.” Pauly faces me, his expression unreadable. “I know what the fuck I’m doing. Could they track me down? Maybe. But it would take hours, and by then I’m long gone or have redirected them down another wormhole.”
I don’t push it. I wouldn’t know what to argue. Everything about this room, this set up, the way he moves between screens, it all points to someone who operates with precision—not luck.
Glancing between the two of them, a thought settles into place.
“You both know everything Aiden does, right?”
They nod, almost in sync.
“I know he found some items at my grandparents’ home.” I shift forward in my seat, attention locked on them now. “He hasn’t had a chance to go over it with me yet. Think you could fill me in?”
They exchange a look, a silent question passing between them—would Aiden approve of this?
“He told my brother and Darius that he was going to tell me everything, promise.” I brace my hands on my knees. “But then he got called away before he could. It can’t hurt, right? I might see something you don’t.”
My teeth catch the side of my lip, hoping I sound convincing.
Lane reaches behind him without another word and pulls a file free, sliding it toward me. “He had me put this together for you.”
Pauly scratches his chin as his eyes travel to the corner behind me.
Following his gaze, I see two black duffel bags—one is open. “Are those Aiden’s?”
“They are,” Pauly says as he stands and stretches. “When he sent Kimber to his place to collect Bear, one of our other friends went with her. They emptied his safe. Anything he didn’t want anyone else getting their hands on. Wylan has agreed to let us keep most of it in his safe.”
“Most?” I pivot to face them, unease prickling. “Why not all of it?”
“It wouldn’t all fit. Only the important pieces went in the safe.” Lane shoves his chair back and walks over to the closet, disappearing inside without another word.
The quiet that follows is broken by the faint spinning of what I imagine is the lock on the safe. Then there is a soft click. A few moments later, he walks back into the room, placing a small stack on the table closest to him.
Two envelopes and a couple of folders.
Curious, I push my tired body to stand and shuffle over. My name is on one envelope, my grandmother’s on the other. I reach for mine, pulling in a steady breath as I prepare to open it. Then pause when Lane walks back into the room again.
This time something feels off. He’s wearing black latex gloves. The item he’s carrying is hidden inside a black canvas bag.
A cold prickle runs along my skin.
Setting the envelope back on the table, I point at his hand. “What’s that? And why are you wearing gloves?”
He doesn’t respond. Instead, he sets the bag down, the weight of it hitting the table with a heavy, unsettling clunk. Then, slowly, he unrolls it.
My breath catches.
A sealed, clear plastic bag. Inside it, a tightly bound parcel of silk stained with blood, wrapped around something I’d prefer not to imagine.
“That was inside the safe at my grandparents’ penthouse? Which one?”
My eyes stay locked on it, the shape becoming clearer the longer I stare—a weapon. A gun.
“Aiden said it slipped from a stack of folders he was removing from the gallery safe.”
Lane unzips the plastic bag and carefully removes the silk material. Now that it’s free, I can see that it’s a scarf, a familiar one.
I watch, breath held, as he unwraps it, revealing the handgun tucked away inside. I’ve never seen it before. Don’t recognize it at all.
As far as I know, my grandfather only owned one gun. A .357 Magnum revolver he kept locked in his desk drawer. Illegal to own, not that he cared.
Where did this one come from?
And why is it wrapped in the scarf I gifted my grandmother three Christmases ago?