Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Ronan
Dealing with that piece of trash took longer than I'd expected. The leads trailing behind Dustin pointed to several border factions that had been eyeing Valerius territory and one organization I couldn't afford to ignore—Night Owl. I had to be involved in the investigation personally.
The moment I stepped through the door, I headed straight for Ryan's room. All I wanted was to hold her, breathe her in.
But the warm glow of her bedside lamp wasn't there. I flipped on the overhead light. The bed was made, sheets tucked tight. Empty. Was she with Rose?
I eased open Rose's door. Rose was asleep, the space beside her vacant.
Where the hell was she? I dialed her number.
Off. I hung up. Tried again. Second time. Third. By the fifth try, that mechanical voice was still looping. A cold dread flooded my veins.
I left the room and knocked on the butler's door. Andrew answered quickly.
"Ryan didn't come back?"
"No, sir." Andrew's expression was troubled. "Miss Clark waited in the study for two hours this morning, then said she had something to take care of and left. She hasn't returned since."
My jaw tightened. "Did she say what?"
"No." Andrew was thinking back. "A maid brought her something, and she left without lunch. In a hurry. Didn't even call for a driver."
A maid? Brought her something?
"Get Declan to the study," I said, turning for the stairs. "Now."
Two minutes later, Declan appeared with his laptop.
"Pull up all the security footage from today," I said from behind the desk. "Focus on this morning when Ryan was here."
The screen came alive. Ryan was getting dressed, choosing a light blue dress, murmuring something to the mirror. Too quiet to hear, her lips too blurred to read. But I caught my name. She had something to tell me.
Nine o'clock. She ran into Marco, then entered the study with her bag. She sat on the sofa, looking nervous and expectant, glancing at the door. Eleven-thirty. A maid knocked and entered. Average build, chestnut hair. I'd never seen her before.
She handed Ryan a folded note. They exchanged words. Ryan opened it, glanced at it, then stood and rushed out of the study.
I turned up the audio. I'd never had Marco deliver any note.
"Track where she went."
More footage appeared. Ryan got out of a car near the Brooklyn Bridge, then...
"Red Hook." Declan's voice was tight. "Ronan, she went to the docks."
My heart sank. That afternoon, after dealing with Dustin, I'd heard the sound of oil drums falling outside...
"Goddammit." I slammed my fist on the desk. "She saw it. She saw me kill Dustin."
Silence filled the study.
"Andrew, where'd that maid come from?"
Sweat beaded Andrew's forehead. "Her name was Helen. Started at the manor a week ago."
"Who approved her? Was her background checked?"
"Everything was done. She came in as Nora's assistant, covering rotation in the third-floor linen room. Sir, this—"
"Goddammit!" I roared. "Trace her! Find out who lured Ryan there. Get Marco on it—tear this city apart if you have to!"
"Yes!"
I waved them out and sat alone in the quiet. The truth was, I'd never planned to hide the Valerius business from Ryan. I loved her. Saw her as the family's matriarch. She had a right to know it all—I just hadn't found the right moment.
What I hadn't counted on was someone luring her out to witness that.
I'd never hated the blood on my hands more than I did right now. Never hated being the Valerius Don more. I'd brought danger to her door.
"Ronan, we've got a problem!" Two hours later, Declan burst through the door, face pale.
"At eleven-oh-three this morning, the family server logged an internal access.
The terminal was in the study. Someone downloaded a set of classified files—every lead we've gathered on Night Owl over the past three years. "
That was when Ryan was alone in the study. "What about the maid?"
"Gone." Declan shook his head. "All her documents, work history—fake. No one knows when she left the manor."
"Goddammit! Fuck!"
Ryan hadn't just witnessed the execution at the docks. Here in this manor, she'd been playing another role I'd never suspected. The realization detonated in my skull, obliterating every fragile illusion I'd built about trust and future.
I swept my arm across the desk. Brass ornaments and thick files crashed to the floor.
The computer hit the carpet, screen shattering.
I tore apart everything connected to Ryan, paper scraps flying through the air like mockery of my stupidity.
Marco and Declan rushed in to stop me, but I backed them against the wall.
"Ronan—"
"She was fucking planted here." My voice came from somewhere deep and raw. "Declan, you hear me, she's a fucking spy!"
I grabbed an ornament and hurled it at the window. Glass exploded.
Marco and Declan grabbed me from both sides. I threw Marco off. Declan locked down on my shoulder.
"Ronan," he was almost shouting, "Jesus! Pull yourself together!"
"I can't! What a setup! What a performance! I—"
Declan's fist connected with my face. Marco pinned me from the side. We went down swinging, ending up bruised and sprawled on the floor.
"Can you listen to me now?" Declan retrieved his glasses from the scuffle and wiped them clean.
Marco rubbed his sore jaw, muttering, "Boss, you didn't have to hit that hard."
"Talk. Fast."
"I don't think Ryan's a spy." Declan cut straight to it. "If she'd been targeting you from the start, why risk her life saving Rose?"
"Maybe she's just that good."
"Good enough to die for the mission?" Declan shook his head. "That day, if the bullet had been an inch over, she'd be dead, and the mission would've failed. And she sat in the study the whole time without touching your computer."
"Think it through," he continued. "If she really was a mole stealing intel, she'd have followed an extraction plan after getting the files. No reason to run alone to Red Hook."
"Unless leaving was part of the plan." My voice was low. "Someone lured Ryan to Red Hook deliberately. Made her see what I did. Forced her to run. Both incidents—same puppet master."
"Find her. Lock down every exit in New York." I looked at Marco. "I don't care if she's Night Owl's plant or some scared girl who got played. Right now, the only thing I give a damn about is where she is."
None of us slept that night. Declan mobilized every resource to chase leads. Marco had people searching every place Ryan might go.
"HR at the community college just confirmed—Ryan filed for a leave of absence yesterday afternoon. Family reasons. Every bank account in her name is emptied. Her phone number's been canceled."
"Too clean. Textbook Night Owl." Declan's brow furrowed.
Marco came back too. "Nothing at the airport or the school. We checked her old apartment, the foster homes from years ago—no trace." Marco grimaced. "We went to Lulu. She locked the door and told us to get lost."
"Was Ryan there?"
"My guys looked through the windows. Didn't see her. But in Lucille Brown's room, there was a half-packed suitcase."
"Then where the hell could she be?"
"No idea. Lucille won't talk. My guys are asking if they should push harder—"
"No," I said. "She's Ryan's best friend. Until we know for sure, if Ryan's innocent and I touch Lulu, I'll never be able to face Ryan again."
Marco paused. "Alright. I'll pull them back."
His phone rang. He answered, listened for less than twenty seconds, face draining white.
"You sure?"
"How long?"
"Location?"
"I'm sending people now. Lock down the scene. Nobody touches that body."
Marco hung up. Pinched the bridge of his nose. "Boss, someone found a female body in a drainage ditch off the New Jersey Turnpike. Time of death about six hours ago. The body is Helen."
Marco went on. "Our guys found a tiny tattoo on Helen's inner thigh. They're sending it over."
He held the phone out. The image—a blind owl perched on an inverted silver cross—was unmistakable. Night Owl. It took everything I had not to smash something again.
"Sir, Miss Rose... something's wrong with her!" Andrew rushed over. I tore into Rose's room.
She lay in her princess bed, face white as translucent paper. Emily told me that when Rose learned Ryan hadn't come home, she'd screamed, then collapsed.
When she came to in my arms, those gray eyes had refilled with that hollow, devastating emptiness.
"Where's Ryan?" She clutched my collar. "When's she coming back, Daddy?"
I didn't know what to tell her. Should I say the woman she called Mom might be a traitor who'd stolen family secrets and vanished into the night?
"Soon, sweetheart. She's just dealing with something urgent. She'll be back soon." All I had were lies.
Rose didn't speak again. She slowly released my collar. Over the next few days, Rose spiraled. She refused to talk to anyone, refused to eat, and spent all day at the window holding Luna.
A month felt like a century.
The family, gutted by the intel leak, suffered unprecedented damage.
We lost operating rights to two critical container ports on the East Coast. Partners who'd been on the fence quickly defected to competitors.
Several hidden financial channels were precision-raided by law enforcement.
Declan was drowning in bad debt and lawsuits. I turned myself into a machine.
Every spare moment I had went to Rose. But every time Rose saw me, she had one question.
"Daddy, when is Ryan... coming back?"
"Soon."
I said it every time. I didn't know how long the lie would hold. Didn't know how long I could hold.
Late one night, after finishing the last stack of reports on laundering channels, I dragged myself back to the bedroom, exhausted. Passing Rose's room, I saw the main light still on.
I cracked the door. Rose was curled in the corner of the bed, asleep, her small face streaked with dried tears. She clutched that drawing—three people holding hands—to her chest.
I closed the door and returned to the empty bedroom. I didn't turn on the light. Just sat there until dawn.