Chapter 29 Zara
The knock at the door is sharp. Two raps. No more. I don’t speak. Don’t move.
It opens anyway.
A guard I don’t recognize—tall, silent, and dressed like he was stitched out of shadows—nods once. “He’s ready for you.”
I stand, smoothing the wrinkle out of the pale linen skirt I’ve been given to wear. My legs ache from inactivity. I follow him down a corridor, my bare feet silent against the chilled marble floors.
The study doors loom like sentries. When they open, it feels like stepping into the lion’s mouth.
My father doesn’t look up as I enter. Lachlan Kavanagh sits behind a mahogany desk, polished to a mirror sheen. A glass of whiskey sits untouched beside his left hand, his right flicking through the pages of a folder I can’t see. The fire crackling behind him is the only warmth in the room.
“Sit,” he says, eyes still on the file.
I take the chair across from him. It's hard-backed and uncomfortable, intentionally so.
He closes the folder with a snap. “The wedding is set for next week. Saturday.”
My stomach clenches. I school my face into blankness. “To Anthony Falco?”
His gaze lifts, steel and ice. “Of course. You’ll take the Falco name. The venue is secured, and the alliance is already being discussed among our circles. The press will release a statement on Friday.”
He says it like he’s reading the weather. Like it’s an inevitability I was foolish to think I could escape.
“Why him?” I ask.
“Because the Falcos are loyal,” he replies.
“And desperate enough to need what little I can still offer. Their territory has softened, but their reputation still holds weight. Your marriage will tie our families together. Strengthens our numbers. It is a necessary move, Zara. If our clan will ever rule Chicago, we have to rid this city of Marchetti trash. The Falco family ensures we can root them out.”
“You think a wedding will take down the Marchettis?” I push.
He leans back, steepling his fingers. “The Marchettis are not invincible. Enzo’s men are efficient, but they bleed like everyone else.
Their stronghold is built on fear and old money.
The Falcos bring numbers, trade access, and something far more valuable—public favor.
With the right press, the right moves, the Marchettis begin to look like the aggressors.
And once the public begins to whisper, power shifts. ”
My blood turns cold. Not from his words. From how sure he is. How little doubt lives behind those pale green eyes.
He believes this marriage is a strategy. That by handing me off like a favor, he’s securing our family’s survival. But what he doesn’t know—what he can’t know—is that the cracks in his empire are already there.
And I hold the chisel.
The flash drive is still hidden, deep in the seam of my traveling bag. Sewn into the lining, beneath the false bottom. It’s small. Harmless-looking. But it carries everything I stole the night I disappeared—accounts, routes, names. Enough to ruin him. Enough to destroy them all.
He just doesn’t know it yet.
I force my gaze to remain calm. “What if I refuse?”
His jaw tightens. “Then Anthony won’t have a wife. He’ll have a corpse. And I will find another way to ensure our future.”
He stands, and I realize our meeting is over.
“You will marry him, Zara. For your name. For your blood. For your family.”
I rise with a controlled nod, spine straight despite the earthquake beneath my skin. I walk back through the study doors without a word.
Back to my cage. I have one week.