Chapter 17
Charlotte
W hen I reached the kitchen after brushing my teeth and putting on clothes, Kane was on the phone. I paused in the doorway, not wanting to interrupt, and caught the tail end of what he was saying.
“I know it’s a lot to ask. And I want you to really think about it—take your time.
If you want to say no, say no.” He paused, and I watched the tension in his shoulders, the way his free hand gripped the edge of the counter.
“I’m not happy about asking. But I don’t know what else to do, and I was told that.
.. you might appreciate me trusting you with this.
Relying on you.” Another pause, heavier this time. “So I figured I should at least try.”
My stomach twisted as I realized who he must be talking to. Kohen. His younger brother.
Their relationship was complicated, clearly strained in ways Kane had only begun to explain, but Kane was doing it because I had asked him to.
I stayed frozen in the doorway, suddenly afraid to move. Like if he saw me, he might change his mind. Tell Kohen to forget it. Decide it wasn’t worth the risk.
I would understand if Kohen said no. This was an enormous ask, dangerous in ways that were hard to fully articulate.
And Kohen, of all people, knew what powerful men would do to protect themselves.
He’d watched his own brother’s career get destroyed by a conspiracy designed to let the real criminals walk free.
Vincent Calloway was far worse than corrupt cops skimming money or dealing drugs on the side.
I’d already helped cost Kane his career. The idea of costing him his brother too made my chest constrict and my stomach heave with something close to nausea.
Maybe I should say something. Maybe this is too big. I can’t be the reason his life is ruined again—worse than before.
But before I could speak, Kane continued.
“It’s up to you.” His voice was quieter now, stripped of its usual confidence. “But we’re out of options, and I think—” He stopped. Swallowed. “I could really use your help. I need your help.”
I wondered if Kane had ever said those words to his brother before.
He glanced over and saw me standing there. Raw emotion flickered in his eyes—a vulnerability he usually kept locked away—and I had my answer.
He hadn’t.
A voice rumbled faintly through the phone. I couldn’t make out the words, couldn’t even gauge the tone. But I watched Kane’s expression shift into something I’d never seen before: relief and burden intertwined, hope and fear tangled so tightly they were indistinguishable.
“Thanks, Kohen.” His voice was rough. “I really owe you one. Be careful, okay? Stay safe.”
Another pause. Then he hung up.
We looked at each other across the kitchen, the weight of what had just happened settling between us like a silent acknowledgement that there was no turning back.
“I stand by what I said last night, but I—” I shook my head, struggling to find the right words. “I don’t want anything to happen to your brother. Not because of me.”
“Right now, the way things are looking, I could lose you .” Kane’s gaze held mine, steady and serious.
“You’re in danger, Charlotte. We need all the help we can get and Kohen is a cop.
” He set his phone down on the counter. “And maybe this will help more than just your article and finally taking down Calloway. Kohen and I—there’s been this distance between us for years.
I’ve never known how to bridge it, but since I was forced to resign, it’s gotten so much worse.
” He exhaled slowly. “I don’t like this.
But I think you’re right. This might be our best shot.
And maybe... maybe it’ll help Kohen and I find our way back to each other. ”
I nodded, relaxing only a fraction. “As long as you’re sure.”
Kane’s mouth curved into that familiar smirk, the one that made him look like the man I’d met at the club, before everything went wrong. “Don’t go getting soft on me now, Charlotte,” he said, amusement threading through his voice. “You’re supposed to be the hard-nosed reporter, remember?”
I crossed my arms and arched a brow. “You didn’t seem to like me that way.”
“I do like you that way.” His eyes met mine, and I saw the warmth beneath the teasing. “As long as I’m not the one in your crosshairs.”
“I don’t plan on doing that again.”
The words hung between us. I wasn’t sure where we stood—not really. Last night had meant something to me. Sleeping in his arms, waking up tangled together, the easy intimacy that had somehow become our normal. But I was scared to articulate any of it, given everything hanging over us.
Was this just a way to pass the time while we waited to see if we survived? Would he still want me if we made it through this?
I didn’t know. And I wasn’t brave enough to ask.
We fell into our standard routine.
After breakfast, Kane headed out to the garage for his workout—push-ups, pull-ups, whatever punishing regimen he’d devised to burn off restless energy. I went to my space in the living room and moved through my yoga poses, trying to quiet my mind the way I’d never quite mastered.
The house felt different today. Charged with possibility and dread in equal measure. Kohen had said yes. Things were in motion now, dominoes lined up and waiting to fall.
I finished my poses, took a long, hot shower and towel dried my hair.
I’d just changed into a soft t-shirt and my leggings when I heard Kane come back inside from the garage.
His footsteps were heavy on the hardwood, and when we met in the hallway, he was drenched in sweat, his t-shirt clinging to his chest in ways that made my mouth go dry.
“Hitting the shower,” he announced, pausing to look at me with heat simmering in his eyes. “Then how about another game of poker?”
He winked. My face flushed at the memory of how our last poker game had ended. “You just want a rematch because you lost.”
“I want a rematch because I like losing to you.” His grin was wicked. “Under the right circumstances.”
He disappeared into the bedroom before I could respond, and a moment later I heard the shower turn on.
I stood there for a beat, my pulse still elevated from that look, then shook myself and headed for the kitchen to gather our usual stakes from the pantry—mini candy bars, Oreos, the bag of pretzels we hadn’t finished.
I was arranging them on the counter, already strategizing my opening moves when I felt it.
A breeze. Faint, barely there—just an odd brush of cold air against the back of my neck.
I froze.
The house was sealed. Climate-controlled. There were no windows open, no doors ajar. I wasn’t standing near any vents.
It’s nothing , I told myself. The house is old and drafty.
But my skin prickled anyway.
I walked slowly into the living room, arms crossed, scanning the space. Everything looked the same. The blackout curtains drawn tight across every window, blocking the outside world from seeing in.
Except—
One of the curtains moved. Just slightly. A ripple of fabric that shouldn’t have happened. The curtains were heavy, designed to block light completely. There was no reason for them to move unless—
Unless there was airflow behind them.
My heart began to pound. I crossed the room on legs that felt strangely distant, like I was watching myself from somewhere outside my body. I reached out and pulled the curtain aside.
The window was cracked open a few inches, the screen on the outside gone.
I stared, my mind struggling to make sense of what I was seeing. Kane checked the windows every night. The security system should have triggered the moment the seal was broken. There should have been alarms, alerts, something .
But there had been nothing.
How is this possible? How did—
The realization hit me like ice water.
Someone had disabled the alarms somehow. Someone had gotten inside when I was in the shower and Kane had been in the garage working out.
Someone was already here.
Every hair on my body stood on end. I needed to get Kane. I needed to move, now , get to the bedroom, warn him—
I spun toward the hallway and only made it three steps before something clamped over my mouth from behind—a cloth, damp, reeking of chemicals that burned my nostrils and made my eyes water.
A strong arm wrapped around my stomach, pinning my arms to my sides, lifting me off my feet like I weighed nothing.
I thrashed. Kicked. Tried to scream, but the hand pressed down harder, forcing the cloth against my face. The smell was overwhelming, cloying, seeping into my lungs with every panicked breath I couldn’t stop myself from taking.
Kane—
My vision blurred at the edges. My limbs went heavy, uncooperative, like they belonged to someone else.
No. No, no, no—
The last thing I saw was the living room spinning around me.
Then everything went dark.