Chapter Three
River
I find Nadia shaking in the breakroom. She’s gone completely pale, so pale I think she might collapse where she stands. Her breathing comes in quick, shallow bursts as her dark brown eyes remain fixed on nothing. I don’t hesitate before stepping in front of her.
“Nadia.” She doesn’t answer. Fuck. The thing in my chest that wants to take this whole city apart until she’s herself again starts pulling at its chain.
“Nadia,” I try again.
Her gaze finally finds mine, but she’s looking through me instead of at me.
“Angel, you have to talk to me. What’s going on?”
I’m prepared to beg, cajole, and push until she answers, but I don’t have to.
“My father,” she whispers so quietly I almost don’t hear her. “He found me.”
The words land like a punch to the gut. I don’t know what it means, but from her reaction, her father is not someone I want anywhere near her. Nadia is mine now. I’ve had a taste of her, so all bets are off.
Without thinking, I reach for her. This time, she doesn’t flinch. Instead, she grabs the front of my T-shirt with both hands as though she’s afraid the floor is about to disappear beneath her feet. Her entire body trembles against mine, and every protective instinct I possess roars to life.
Nadia is fiery and can hold her own. Seeing her like this makes me want to put someone in the ground. I shove it down and focus on her.
“Hey.” I keep my voice low and steady. “Look at me.”
She tries. “He said...” Her voice breaks. “He said he finally found me.”
I wrap my arms around her before she can crumble completely. She stiffens for the briefest moment, then melts against my chest, gripping my shirt tighter as a shudder works through her body.
“You’re okay,” I murmur.
“You don’t understand.”
“Then help me understand.”
For several seconds, she says nothing. I simply hold her while the shop sits eerily quiet around us. The front door hasn’t opened since we unlocked this morning, the tattoo machines remain silent, and somewhere in the back, a coffee maker clicks as it finishes brewing.
“I can’t stay here,” she finally whispers. “I have to leave.”
“No.”
She pulls back just enough to stare at me. “You don’t know who he is.”
“I know enough.”
“No, you don’t.” Panic sharpens every word. “I stayed too long. I got comfortable. I made mistakes.”
“You got a job. You made friends. That’s not a mistake.”
“It is for someone like me.”
I shake my head. “No.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Then explain it to me.”
She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. Fear wins before the words ever have a chance. I make the decision for both of us. I flip the sign on the front door from OPEN to CLOSED, lock it, and pull the blinds shut. The appointments can wait. Whatever this is takes priority.
She watches me with wide, frightened eyes. “What are you doing?”
“Taking care of you.”
“River—”
I cut her off, barely keeping my fury in check. “You’re not handling this alone.”
I guide her toward the staircase leading to the apartment above the shop. She follows without arguing, though her hand never lets go of my sleeve as if she’s afraid I’ll disappear if she does.
Raiden answers the apartment door a few seconds after I knock. His expression shifts from mild curiosity to concern the instant he sees Nadia. “What happened?”
“I need a favor.”
He steps aside immediately. “Come in.”
Elodie appears from the kitchen carrying two mugs before she notices Nadia’s tear-streaked face. She sets them down so quickly that coffee sloshes over the rim.
“Nadia?”
Within seconds, she’s beside her, gently taking Nadia’s hand. “Oh, sweetheart.”
Nadia visibly relaxes at the sound of Elodie’s voice.
“I need to talk to the guys,” I tell Raiden.
He nods once. That’s all I need. I’ve known Raiden since college. All four of us go back that far. He knows me well enough to know I don’t waste words.
I watch Elodie wrap an arm around Nadia’s shoulders, urging her deeper into the living room. “Come sit with me.”
Now, it’s my turn to hesitate. She looks so small sitting there, and something in my chest goes tight and stays that way. Nadia notices.
“I’ll be okay,” she says quietly.
I don’t entirely believe her. Still, I force myself to nod before following Raiden toward the hidden staircase leading into the basement beneath the tattoo shop.
Roman is just coming through the gym door with a towel draped around his neck when we walk in, while Royal is already seated in front of his bank of computer monitors, fingers flying across his keyboard.
One look at my face and Royal stops typing. “What happened?”
“Nadia got a phone call from her father.”
He goes still, and the room falls silent. Roman slowly lowers the water bottle he’d been drinking from.
“Explain.”
I tell them everything, from the phone ringing to Nadia’s complete breakdown afterward. By the time I finish, Royal has already turned back to his monitors.
“I figured this day might come.”
I stare at him. “What does that mean?”
He exhales slowly. “It means there’s something I should’ve told you all a long time ago.”
Raiden folds his arms. “We’re listening.”
Royal pulls up a secure file on one of the monitors, then turns the screen toward us. A photograph of a bald man in an expensive tailored suit fills the display. His expression is cold, calculating, and completely devoid of warmth.
“This is Damir Aronov.”
I study the picture. “Nadia’s father.”
Royal nods. “Head of one of the larger Russian organized crime syndicates operating out of California.”
Roman whistles softly. “So, our receptionist has been hiding from the Russian bratva.”
“Essentially.”
Raiden’s eyes narrow. “You knew,” he says, stating the obvious. “How long?”
“Since before I hired her.”
The room erupts.
“You what?” Roman barks.
Royal doesn’t flinch. “I ran a background check before offering her the job. The identity she gave us checked out, but something about it felt manufactured. So I kept digging.”
“And?”
“I found Nadia Aronov.” He clicks another file open. “A seventeen-year-old girl who disappeared two years ago without a trace.”
I look back at Damir’s photograph. “You hired her anyway.”
Royal nods. “Because everything I found suggested she wasn’t running from the law.”
He taps the image of Damir. “She was running from him.”
Silence settles over the room again. For me, it’s heavier. Because suddenly, every instinct I’ve had about Nadia hiding something finally makes sense. She wasn’t hiding because she couldn’t trust us. She was hiding because someone had taught her that being found meant losing everything.
Royal clicks on the keyboard, replacing Damir’s photograph with a younger man wearing an expensive navy suit and an arrogant smile that immediately rubs me the wrong way.
He looks polished enough to grace the cover of a business magazine, but years of working organized crime have taught me better than to trust appearances.
The cleanest suits usually hide the dirtiest hands.
Royal enlarges the image before leaning back in his chair, his expression growing even more serious. “This,” he says, “is Ivan Sorokin.”
Raiden studies the file. “What’s his connection to Damir?”
“Business.” Royal opens another document filled with financial records and family connections. “The Sorokins control several shipping routes Damir desperately wants access to. And the access was never a sale. It was a marriage settlement. No wedding, no routes.”
“Nadia,” I say.
“Exactly.”
A muscle jumps in my jaw.
Royal continues typing, pulling information from several encrypted files.
“There’s been chatter over the last few weeks that Ivan is losing patience.
Apparently, his grandfather established a trust fund with one condition before he died.
Ivan doesn’t receive the inheritance unless he’s married by a specific deadline. ”
“Which is when?” Raiden asks.
“Five weeks.”
“So, he needs a wife,” Roman mutters.
“He’s needed a wife for two years,” Royal corrects.
“That’s the part I want you to sit with.
” He pulls up another file. “Damir promised him Nadia two years ago, right before her eighteenth birthday. When she ran, Ivan could have picked any woman in their world and had it done inside a month. Plenty of families would have lined up for it.”
Roman frowns. “So, why didn’t he?”
“Because he doesn’t want a wife.” Royal turns in his chair to face us. “He wants her.”
Silence settles around us in a way I don’t like.
“Explain that,” I demand.
Royal scrolls. “The Aronov name means something on their world. Marrying Damir’s only daughter doesn’t just get Ivan a wife, but it also gets him a seat.
He’d be the man who married into the family, not the man who bought in.
And then she embarrassed him in front of everyone by vanishing just months before the wedding.
For two years, he’s been telling anyone who’ll listen that she’ll be returned to him. ”
He looks at me. “Damir’s been feeding it. Every few months, a promise. A sighting. Just enough to keep the routes on the table. It’s the only leverage he’s had left.”
“And now, Damir’s out of promises,” Raiden concludes.
“Now, Damir’s out of time,” Royal clarifies. “So is Ivan.”
I run it through. “Then how does any of this help Nadia?” If he wants her specifically, she’s not any safer.”
Royal almost smiles. “Because the trust doesn’t care what Ivan wants.
Five weeks, married, or his grandfather’s money goes to a cousin in Saint Petersburg.
If Nadia is legally married before that clock runs out, Damir cannot deliver her.
Not in five weeks. Not with an annulment on the books.
” He spreads his hands. “Ivan gets to choose. The woman he’s been humiliated over, or every dollar he’s ever been promised. ”
Roman lets out a low breath. “He takes the money.”
“Every time,” Royal says. “Men like that always do. Wanting her is a luxury. He’s out of road.”
The room falls silent again. Roman is the first to speak. “So, that’s good news, isn’t it?”