18. PIVOT
EIGHTEEN
pivot
Pippa
The patio outside the back den of Enzo’s house carries the smell of pine trees and the coffee my sisters and I have in our hands. The air is damp, charged, like the world hasn’t quite decided yet if it’s going to forgive us for surviving the night.
None of us have slept. We refuse to leave the Luciano mansion until we know Hudson is awake and okay. He is still unconscious one floor down, but Doc expects he’ll wake soon.
Every time I blink, I see him in the back of the van, bleeding. Watch the stain spreading under my hands.
Sitting around an outdoor table, Jules, Luna, and I plan for the day. Luna and I both know we’ll be called in to work as soon as the news hits. Only a couple of hours likely remain until the chaos begins.
Luna sits cross-legged in a bright, oversized hoodie with her curly hair in a knot at the top of her head. She’s vibrating with leftover adrenaline, one leg bouncing as she nurses her third cup of coffee. Her laptop glows between us, containing spreadsheets and code.
“In Malin’s files I found receipts,” Luna says finally. She taps the trackpad, a scanned ledger glowing in the dawn light. “A warehouse in Ivy City, paid for in cash through one of his shells. He’s been making regular payments for over a decade.”
That piques our interest.
“My gut tells me if Malin had anything about President Troy or Jared and Sophie, or records on the girls funneled through Maribel Island, that building is where he’d have kept it.”
A chill ripples through me, sharper than the dawn air.
Magnus Troy—the man sitting in the Oval, powerful and seemingly untouchable.
Jared Whiteman—the beginning of it all, the predator whose sins we were born to bear.
Sophie Delacroix—the woman in hiding pulling the strings.
And the girls—the ones lost to men like Whiteman, Malin, and Troy, their futures stolen before they began. Their children ripped from their wombs and raised in the hands of monsters.
“If Malin is the key, like we believe he is,” I say slowly, “then that warehouse could be the lockbox. And we need to break it open before anyone else knows we’ve found it.”
Jules arches a brow. “Meaning we don’t loop in the mafia siblings or Hudson when he wakes?”
“Exactly.”
Silence stretches. Luna stares into her coffee like it might give her an easier answer. Jules weigh the pros and cons in her mind.
“Enzo’s already pulling away,” I whisper. “He blames himself for getting Hudson and Eva involved with us. He regrets getting close to me, I can tell.”
“He’ll come around—” Luna starts.
I shake my head. “Maybe, but we promised we’d never drag anyone else into this mess. We broke that promise and it’s gotten someone I care about hurt. We sacrificed too much to get here to risk our goals and the lives of innocent people.”
The truth is even heavier than that. Jared’s ghost still haunts us. Sophie’s absence mocks us. Now the celebrity parties seem to be in operation again. And the gala is fast approaching.
In just over two weeks I face my past—once and for all.
“How do we walk away now?” Luna asks, interrupting my thoughts. “And what if I don’t want to?” she whispers.
“That’s the problem, isn’t it?” I ask. “We weren’t supposed to want any of this.
Not Enzo and Hudson. Not Eva. Not Jax, who is suddenly back in the picture.
” Jules starts but I raise my hand. “He’ll be at your door any day, Jules, we all know it.
And you probably want to see him again—no one would blame you—but wanting something means weakness.
And weakness gets us killed. Or worse, it could get them killed.
None of us are invincible against these men and their proximity to power. We learned that again tonight.”
It’s the real reason Jules walked away all those years ago. What she and Jax had was real, his ex was just an excuse. She got so close that she wanted to tell him the truth. She considered it then, but she knew it was too dangerous. So, she let him go. And she’s never let anyone close again.
None of us have.
I fold my arms across my chest, keeping my tone clipped. “We walk away because that’s what we’ve always done. Walls up. Circle tight. Survival.”
The three of us fall quiet. The sun edges over the horizon, painting us in light that feels too fragile for the mess we’re in.
Jules stands. “Here’s the plan. We focus on the warehouse for now. Luna, you’ll also need to find a way to cover Hudson at work. Keep him off the FBI’s radar until he’s walking again. I say Luna swings by the unit on the way back from HQ. Quickly. Quietly. No one sees you.”
Luna beams.
I put my mug down. “It should be me. I can do it.”
Luna interjects, “It’s an easy warehouse in and out, Pip, no reason it can’t be me. The warehouse is closer to my office, anyway.”
Jules and I always keep Luna out of harm's way as best we can. She’s the youngest of us, and we’ve always protected her more than ourselves, but this is important to her.
I want to argue, but I choose not to. I’m fighting battles on too many fronts right now.
“It’s your find, Luna. I agree, you should do it. ”
She smiles with a small glint of appreciation.
“Pippa will be backup for you, and you’ll keep us apprised of your steps. Call if you need anything, at all. And I’ll keep us steady here and send updates on Hudson,” Jules says.
We all nod in agreement and the plan is set.
The sun crests the horizon, streaking gold across the stone patio, catching in Jules’s dark hair and Luna’s tired eyes. For a moment, we look like normal sisters drinking coffee at dawn, waiting for the day to start.
Average.
Safe.
But we’re not normal, and safety is an illusion I stopped believing in a long time ago.
Friday Morning, Day 26
The clinic is quiet except for the steady hum of monitors. Pale sunlight slips through the blinds, painting stripes across Hudson’s chest. I’ve showered and dressed for the day, but I didn’t want to leave until I’d seen him again.
He looks better than in the dark hours. His color has returned and his breathing is even, like the dawn has bargained him a little more life.
I’m holding his hand when the door opens.
Enzo steps in. His broad frame fills the doorway. He pauses when he sees me, then clears his throat.
I feel the air change.
His eyes land on my hand holding Hudson’s.
I pull back reflexively, as if burned. I push up from the chair. “I should—” I start.
He lifts a hand. “Stay.” The word sounds heavy. He doesn’t move closer. We’re awkward satellites, orbiting Hudson but avoiding each other’s gravity.
Before I can find something safe to say, Eva breezes in, tablet in hand, expression tight. “News cycle’s spinning. Malin’s death is everywhere. Threads connect him to half of DC.”
“I just got word,” I add. “Cramden’s office called me in. Damage control, I’m sure.”
“I’ll sit with him,” Enzo says. An escape route offered to both of us.
Jules strides in and gives Hudson a once-over.
I keep my eyes on Hudson, on Eva’s tablet, on anything but the man across the room.
Enzo hasn’t glanced my way since he walked in.
If ignoring me were an Olympic sport, he’d be taking gold before breakfast. I don’t want it to bother me.
I don’t let men crawl under my skin, but somehow, I’ve ended up with two lodged there anyway—one I’m begging to wake so I can finally breathe, the other staging a world-class disappearing act from six feet away.
“Anyone seen Luna?” Jules asks, breaking me out of my pity spiral.
“Right here,” Luna says as she pushes through the doorway with her phone in hand. “FBI wants me at HQ. I’m guessing Hudson will have received the same message. I can cover, keep them from sniffing too close, and see what chatter they’re pushing about Malin.”
Jules seems to be contemplating if anyone should leave . . . Surprisingly well-acted, given that we’ve already decided to get out of here. “Any word from Cramden’s office yet?”
Someone give my sister the Oscar already.
I tilt my chin in confirmation.
The room fills with voices. Eva lists several cover stories, Luna questions how deep Troy’s people may already be digging and what Redline can look into, and Enzo paces near the window.
No one questions why Luna or I decide to leave. The new plan is holding.
Good.
Suddenly, a low groan cuts through the noise. Hudson shifts, lashes fluttering. His lips part, voice rough but familiar. “Didn’t realize I was this popular.”
Relief cracks the room open.
Luna mutters something about grabbing the doctor before slipping out. The rest of us pile closer, like kids at a birthday party.
Hudson opens his eyes to find himself mobbed. At once, we all fire questions and relief in unison. He groans like we’re torturing him, but I know he loves it.
I smile genuinely for the first time in the last sixteen hours.
Eva gets him some ice water. By the time Luna and Doc return, Hudson’s holding court like a bullet to the chest is just another story to brag about.
Typical.
That’s when I know it’s safe to slip out. He’s alive, surrounded, and safe for now. It’s my cue to follow Enzo’s lead and put my walls back up, too.
I can’t afford distraction, either. I need distance. I need armor. I need to remember what happens when I let myself care too much.
Although, it’s probably too late for me to stop, because somehow the people in this room got under my armor. I already feel like they are mine to protect. Even if it’s me they need protection from.