Chapter 38 Eight Fucking Years of this Shit
KADE
I’m having too much fucking fun.
Watching Amanda text me while wine-drunk and brave is like watching her strip away every wall she’s built. Every message is more honest than the last, more real, more her.
you make me want things
real things
scary real relationship things
She’s getting there. Finally getting to a place where maybe I can tell her the truth. Where she might be ready to hear that the man she’s falling for and the husband who left her are the same person.
The thought makes my chest tight with something that feels dangerously close to hope.
She’s trusting me. Fuck. She is. She’s trusting me, and I’m still lying to her about everything. But not for much longer. Soon I’ll—
My phone buzzes with a different notification. Not Amanda’s contact.
Bergen.
I stare at his name on the screen, dread pooling in my stomach. I know I have to answer it, but I also know it’s going to ruin everything. Amanda’s texting me, still being open and vulnerable, and I’m about to have to cut her off.
I hate that I have to do this to her. Hate that I have to be the one who pulls away right when she’s being brave enough to let me in.
BERGEN
Movement from the Petrov family. Thought we got them all but we missed one. Viktor Petrov. Marko’s uncle. We have a lock on his location.
I stare at the screen, everything in me going cold. But Amanda’s still waiting for me to respond.
He’s flying into Tijuana tomorrow morning. Private airfield. If you can get there in time, we can end this once and for all.
No. No fucking way.
I have to tell Amanda I’m leaving. Right now. While she’s drunk and happy and trusting me.
CHAD
I have to go, baby doll.
I type it and immediately hate myself.
what why? we were having a moment
She’s confused. Hurt. I can feel it through the screen.
We were. But you need sleep.
It’s a shit excuse, and we both know it.
i need a bedtime story
Fuck. She wants her bedtime story, and I can’t give it to her. Not tonight. Not when I have to pack weapons and prepare to kill a man I thought was already dead.
Not tonight.
Another message from Bergen appears at the top.
Clock’s ticking. He’ll only be there for a few hours before he disappears again. This is our shot.
Amanda’s still typing.
AMANDA
please?
im being brave and vulnerable and wine-drunk
you owe me a story
She’s right. I do owe her a story. I owe her so much more than a story. But I can’t give her what she needs right now, and it’s killing me.
I have to go. But soon.
how soon
Soon. Just wait for me.
thats very cryptic
i dont like cryptic
Yes you do.
I’m trying to keep things light, trying to end this conversation on a good note, but my hands are shaking with rage.
fine i do
but i dont like waiting
It’ll be worth it. I promise.
I’ll make it up to her. Whatever this costs us, whatever ground we lose because I have to disappear right when she’s opening up to me, I’ll find a way to make it right.
it better be
im trusting you
I know. Sleep tight, baby doll.
fine
but this conversation isnt over
I’m counting on it.
I thought this was over. I thought Montenegro was the end and I was finally free to have a life, to be with Amanda, to stop running from shadows and ghosts and men who want me dead.
The conversation with Amanda ends, and the silence in my apartment feels deafening. She was being open and honest, so fucking brave, and I had to shut her down. Had to cut her off right when she was trusting me with her heart.
BERGEN
You in or out?
I’m angry. Really fucking angry. A level of rage that makes my vision blur around the edges and my hands shake with the need to hit something.
I stand up so fast that my chair goes flying, crashing into the wall behind me. The sound echoes through my apartment.
“FUCK!” I roar, grabbing the nearest thing—a coffee mug—and hurling it across the room. It explodes against the opposite wall in a shower of ceramic shards.
Eight years. Eight fucking years of this shit. Of being pulled back in just as I think I’m out. Of having my life dictated by men who should be dead, by threats that should be over, by a past that refuses to stay buried.
I punch the wall, hard enough that my knuckles split and bleed. The pain feels good. Feels like something I can control.
But then I look at my screens.
Amanda’s climbing into her bed, struggling with a fitted sheet corner that popped off, muttering something I can’t hear, her hair falling in her face as she fights with the mattress.
And just like that, all the fight washes out of me.
I collapse into my chair, suddenly exhausted.
Because this isn’t about me. It’s not about what I want or how tired I am of this life.
It’s about her. They already proved they’re willing to go after her.
The motorcycle accident wasn’t random; it was a message.
They ran us off that road to show me what they could do, how easily they could take her away from me.
And they almost succeeded. She was out cold for a full day.
I sat in that hospital room through it all.
Watching monitors beep while doctors stitched her back together, knowing it was my fault. My enemies. My silence. My everything.
Someone from the family who started this whole nightmare is still out there. Someone who might blame me for his brother’s death, his nephew’s death, the destruction of everything they built. Someone who’s already shown they’ll use her to get to me.
Someone who might decide to finish what they started. I can’t let that happen.
I won’t let that happen.
KADE
Yeah. I’ll be there.
BERGEN
Good. Plane leaves at 0200. Don’t be late.
I set the phone down and stare at my hands. They’re shaking slightly, adrenaline and rage still coursing through my system.
Two days. Maybe less if we’re lucky. I’ll fly down to Tijuana, find Viktor Petrov, put a bullet in his head, and fly back.
Clean and simple. The last job. For real this time.
But two days away from Amanda are two too many.
Two days where I can’t watch her, can’t protect her, can’t make sure she’s safe.
I pull up the Monarch security system and send Cal a message.
KSTEELE
Need a favor. Have to be out of town for a couple days. Can you keep an eye on Amanda for me?
CALKNIGHT_SECURITY
Everything okay?
Will be. Just some business I need to handle.
She doesn’t know?
Not yet.
Consider it done. How long?
Two days max. I’ll be back by Thursday.
She’ll be safe. You have my word.
I exhale slowly, some of the tension in my shoulders easing. Cal’s good. He’ll watch over her, make sure nothing happens while I’m gone.
I send Jake a quick text.
Armory. One hour.
Thought you were done.
So did I.
On my way.
I look back at the security feed. Amanda’s finally gotten the sheet to stay put and is climbing into bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. She looks small in that big bed, vulnerable in a way that makes my chest ache.
Soon, I tell myself. Two more days, and this is over for good. Two more days, and I can tell her everything. Two more days, and I can finally come home.
I grab my gear bag and head for the door, trying not to think about how this feels like leaving her all over again.
But this time, I’m coming back.
This time, nothing is going to keep me away from her.