Chapter 16
Chapter sixteen
EMMA EASTON
I fall asleep snuggled beside my friends.
Heather is curled close on one edge of the massive bed, Micah sprawled in the middle.
He’s in the middle of the bed because Heather demanded an edge and refused to negotiate.
Her reasoning has always been that she wanted the extra few seconds to run if someone broke in, and that getting caught in the middle was surely a death sentence.
Micah was offended that she’d be okay with him dying.
I just laughed at them, and then stared at the ceiling long after their breathing had evened out.
I wake sometime later with no clear reason why. The room is dark and still, lit only by moonlight pouring across the floor. The blankets tug slightly as Micah shifts in his sleep, his back warm against my arm. Heather mutters something incoherent and settles again.
I ease myself out from under the covers, careful not to wake them, and pad toward the window. The terrace stones glow pale beneath the moon, ivy crawling along the edge where a small table sits beneath a pergola. I press my fingertips to the glass.
I don’t recognize the woman I was before Jude came back into my life.
She feels completely distant now...convinced the world worked a certain way if you followed the rules.
I try to remember what she cared about, what scared her, what she thought love was supposed to look like.
I do know that no one ever made her feel even an iota of what Jude did.
She feels…small.
A soft laugh drifts down the hallway behind me, pulling me back from my thoughts. The bedroom door is cracked just enough that I can see a thin line of darkness from the hallway. I step closer and peek out.
Rafe and Adela stand just outside their bedroom, half-hidden in shadow.
He’s shirtless, broad shoulders catching the faint light, his muscles shifting along his shoulders.
She’s backed against the wall, one leg bent slightly as one of his hands brace beside her head.
He’s kissing her passionately. Her fingers curl into his hair as his other hand seems to be occupied between her legs.
His mouth moves to her jaw, her throat. Lower…
I pull back before they see me. There’s a sharp twinge of pain, jealousy, and longing tangled together under my ribs. I think I’m going to better understand people like them soon.
That thought should terrify me.
They are violence, love, and danger. And instead of recoiling from it, I feel myself studying the reality of it, wondering what it would cost to become that unbreakable. I always thought I was moral. Law-abiding. Good.
But Jude is my weakness. He always has been. I would break laws for him. I would ruin lives. I would burn anything to the ground if it meant he lived. If it meant he came back alive.
Is that love?
Or is it something poisonous that only feels holy because it hurts? I don’t know exactly. I should, right?
I return to the bed quietly, slipping back beneath the covers. Micah shifts, instinctively rolling closer. I listen to their steady breathing, and wonder what our lives are about to become.
I wake to the sound of voices downstairs. For a moment, I lie still, letting my body decide if it wants to move. When I finally swing my legs over the edge of the bed, the room is empty.
I wrap a robe around myself and walk down the hall, careful not to slam the door. The carpet runner is thick and soft under my feet, muffling the sound of my steps.
The living room is bright with morning light, and the smell of coffee reaches me. Heather and Micah are seated at the kitchen island with Rafe and Adela, mugs in hand. They’re all relaxed, laughing at something Micah said.
Adela’s the one making coffee. She pours vanilla creamer into a latte, watching the swirl. When she looks up, her gaze lands on me. And I feel like she can see through every single layer of me.
“Good morning,” she says, warm as sunshine.
“Morning,” I manage, my voice raw.
Rafe looks up and smiles gently. I suddenly can’t help but picture them making out in the hallway last night. “You’re finally up,” he says.
I swallow, trying to stop my pulse from spiking. “Yeah. I couldn’t sleep.”
Adela sets the latte down in front of me. “You’re still tired,” she says, studying my face.
I nod once. “I guess.”
Her eyes flick to the terrace doors, and I feel the invitation before she speaks. “Come with me,” she says softly.
Rafe leans over and kisses her forehead, his smile never wavering.
The man is wildly in love with and possessive over her.
It makes me smile, honestly. For a horrible moment, I wish I had a man who would be like this over me.
It seems Jude has given up on me. And that’s a shitty feeling.
But I realize it’s way more complicated than that.
Still. The part of me that wants to play victim and throw a tantrum truly believes that.
The terrace is warmed by the morning sun, though the air still carries that crisp of fall. The stone beneath my feet is cool, but heated enough. I breathe in and let the light hit my face.
Adela stops at the edge of the terrace, gazing out over the backyard. “I want to talk to you.”
I nod, suddenly aware of how small I feel beside her intimidating presence.
She turns to me, calm but direct. “You’re afraid.”
I want to deny it, to pretend I’m stronger than that. But the truth lodges in my throat. “Yeah,” I admit. “A little.”
Her lips curve. “It’s not weakness, you know. I think you’re brave.”
I blink. “Why?”
She sighs. “Well, first…you’re standing in my house,” she says simply. “And because you’re doing everything you can to save a man who is likely going through hell at this very moment.”
My throat tightens.
She steps closer. “If you find him,” she says gently, “he won’t be the same. This world is brutal, Emma. It changes people. Many of them forever.”
Her tenderness catches me off guard. “He was already different,” I say quietly.
“But the Jude I knew was still there. I could see it sometimes. When he laughed, or sang, or kissed me.” I swallow.
“I know I’m changing too. I’m an art therapist. I deal with other people’s pain for a living.
I was always confident, always steady. But this…
” I shake my head. “I feel helpless. I don’t know who I am anymore.
I created a version of myself that I liked without Jude.
But now that I’ve had him again…I can’t seem to reach her. ”
Adela holds my gaze. “It’s okay if you change,” she says. “You’re facing things most people never have to. It’s not every day the person you love is taken by a Russian crime lord.”
I nod weakly. I can’t believe that sentence is factual.
“Rafe and I can help you break him out,” she continues. “But you’re the only one who can actually save him.”
I know exactly what she means. I’m standing on the edge of something I can’t come back from. “I just want him back.”
Her eyes soften, just for a moment. “I know. And that’s what makes you dangerous.” She studies me. “You’ll have to decide what you’re willing to become. Use your strengths. I can already tell you have a very intelligent and empathic mind.”
The words hit hard. I look back out at the quiet beauty of the yard. “I think I already know what I might become,” I mumble.
Adela’s eyes narrow slightly. “Do you?”
“I’d do anything for him,” I say. “I can’t throw a punch or shoot a gun, but I have my mind. I see people differently. And I believe that’s a powerful strength.”
She nods once. “It is. That kind of love is the only thing that survives the hell you’re about to walk into.”
My grip tightens around my mug as she motions for me to follow her back inside. Micah and Heather are laughing over something again, her hand resting on his arm. The affection is refreshing to see.
Rafe stands by the counter, arms crossed, watching us. His eyes never leave his wife. “Alright,” he says. “Everyone’s had coffee. Sit.”
I slide onto a stool beside Heather.
Adela doesn’t sit. She makes another latte and turns to face us.
“We can fly to Moscow soon,” he says.
I straighten immediately. “How soon?”
“Soon,” he repeats. “We have things to tie up here first.”
Heather stiffens beside me.
Micah’s voice is low. “You’re serious.”
“Yeah.” Rafe nods.
“Then what?” I ask.
“We work on eliminating the blackmail,” Rafe says.
“Nolan’s system,” Adela adds. “It’s…less complicated than Alexei’s, from what I can see.”
Micah scoffs. “Less complicated? He’s still Nolan.”
“It’s organized,” Rafe replies calmly. “That’s what makes it vulnerable. He’s not at all in the same league as Morozov.”
My stomach drops. “You’re saying you think you can take it down?”
Rafe nods once. “Remove the files, remove the control.”
“And if the blackmail is gone, then Jude won’t face life in prison,” I mutter.
Micah scowls. “Why not just kill them? They die, that threat dies with them.”
Rafe smiles faintly. “Tempting.”
“I want them fucking dead,” Micah says flatly, and goosebumps break out over my skin at his tone.
“It’s not that simple,” Adela replies.
“Why not?”
“Because someone else may have access to the files.”
Micah hesitates. “Ah, fuck. Adriana.”
I bite the inside of my cheek.
“If Nolan and Alexei die first,” Rafe says, “the leverage survives. And someone else uses it. Perhaps that Adriana. Who is she?”
“She’s his publicist,” Micah mutters. “Really, she’s a fucking rapist.”
Rafe exhales, gaze dropping for a moment. “What is he using?”
“Oxy. Coke. Meth. Heroin. Mostly.”
“Oxy,” Rafe murmurs. “I know what that shit’s like. If we get him to our property, withdrawal will be brutal.”
“I’m a nurse,” Heather interjects. “I put Micah on Suboxone. We brought some for Jude.”
“That helps for some of those things,” Rafe says, then looks at me. “Okay, so we wipe the system and remove the threat. Then we deal with Alexei.”
“And how long will that take?” Micah asks.