Chapter 19
Chapter nineteen
EMMA EASTON
A couple of weeks pass without anything actually changing. That’s the horrible, stupid, cruel part. I never unpacked, and every day that passes has me chewing my fingernails. A ridiculous habit I thought I finally kicked for good. Apparently not.
My birthday passed the other day, and Heather made it as special as she could. She baked a beautiful cake for me, even when Adela rolled her eyes and said she could have one of the best bakers in NYC to do it. Heather was appalled, to say the least. It was delicious. And I love my best friend.
Rafe and Adela keep moving at their own pace with meetings and calls. Empires don’t rush just because I’m scared, and I know that. But I’m freaking out. I try not to ask when we’re leaving. They’ve been very clear that they want to help, so I’m trying to be understanding.
Micah sprawls on the bed, scrolling through his phone.
Heather’s on the floor with her back against the dresser, meticulously cleaning a gun that Adela asked her to clean.
Heather doesn’t mind guns. She used to shoot a lot at the range with her father.
She’s way more comfortable with them than I am.
I feel like a defenseless fawn in this world.
“You’re gonna wear a hole in the floor,” Micah says without looking up.
“I’m not pacing,” I say, immediately stopping mid-step.
Heather snorts. “You stopped because he called it out. That still counts.”
I drop onto the bed beside Micah’s feet and cross my arms. My leg starts bouncing on its own. I don’t even notice until Heather glances up.
“If you shake the room any harder,” she says, “Rafe’s gonna feel it in his office.”
“Good,” I mutter. “Maybe he’ll remember I exist.”
Micah finally looks up, studying me. His voice softens.
“I’m anxious, too. It’s felt weird to just fucking exist here for the last two weeks.
I get it. But they're lining things up for us, and they've even already started tracking Nolan's movements at least.” He sighs. “I’ve been watching Adriana’s Instagram, so I know he’s still alive. He’s in her stories and shit.”
My fists clench at my sides. “I’m ready to go.”
Heather clicks the magazine back into place with skillful motion. “Ready doesn’t mean in charge. Rook told you that Rafe was no joke. Don’t piss him off. He and Adela have been welcoming and even willing to help us. And I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to see his bad side.”
“I know,” I snap, then sigh. “Sorry. I know.”
She gives me a look that says don’t spiral, then sets the gun aside. “You want the truth?”
“No,” I say immediately.
Micah grins. “Too late.”
Heather shrugs. “If Rafe says we’re leaving soon, we’re leaving soon. We need to trust him.”
“I understand that,” I say, annoyed beyond belief. “But if Jude dies and we were just sitting here, I’ll never forgive myself for not trying to speed up this godforsaken process.”
Before either of them can respond, Rafe appears in the doorway like he’s been summoned by the tension alone. I stiffen, unsure if they heard us. Adela’s just behind him, calm, composed, and checking something on her phone.
“We leave tomorrow,” Rafe says casually.
My stomach drops. Relief hits first, then it immediately curdles into nausea. “Tomorrow,” I repeat, just to hear it out loud.
Adela nods. “Early.”
Micah straightens, already shifting into action mode. Heather’s on her feet in seconds.
I stay seated.
The silence stretches long enough that Rafe’s attention finally lands fully on me. His head tilts slightly, assessing. “You look like you’re about to bolt,” he says.
“I’m not,” I say quickly. Then, because I can’t stop myself, “I just—are we…ready? For Alexei? For all of it?”
Adela lets out a short laugh before she can stop herself. Rafe doesn’t even try. They laugh like I’ve told some joke, and a shiver rushes down my spine.
Rafe steps closer with a smile. “Emma,” he says, voice calm as ever. “I understand that you’ve been antsy.”
I shift uncomfortably beneath his icy gaze.
He tilts his head, studying me like a predator. “Nolan’s blackmail is gone.”
The room goes silent.
My jaw drops. Micah jolts, straightening immediately. Heather inhales sharply. I realize that we’re all standing now.
“W—what?” I croak.
Rafe smirks. “Adela’s been using some resources at her firm. We tracked them. We know exactly where they are. That’s part of what we’ve been doing.”
Tears spill down my face.
“That’s fucking incredible, man,” Micah exclaims, his eyes shining as well. “Are you able to see who else might have those files?”
Rafe crosses his arms and nods. “The files are located in two other places. Both are in Moscow.”
My stomach twists at that. “Can you find out who?”
Adela steps forward now. “Working on it, love. I imagine one of them is Alexei, and the other is someone acting more for insurance purposes. Like if Jude, in a sudden rage, killed Alexei, he’d still lose everything. That’s really common.”
“Okay,” I nod, hugging myself. My whole body is shaking right now, probably from the adrenaline.
“I ordered catering for us tonight,” Adela says casually.
“Didn’t feel like dealing with dishes. It’s on its way, so come down, and we can talk about some logistics when we arrive.
Nico and Kieran will be joining us as well.
Please ensure you have everything packed.
We have one more thing to deal with tonight.
But we will be leaving here tomorrow morning at five. ”
We all say, “Okay" in unison. I can’t help but watch the confident way that they walk together. They exude a power I’ve never felt or seen before. I’m curious to know more about them, even if I’m also a little scared of them. I feel like I’d be stupid not to be.
“Emma, I think we have everything packed,” Heather says from her spot on the bed, where she’s cozied up to Micah. “We’re ready. Relax.”
I stop and sigh, running an anxious hand through my hair.
“Did you take your medicine? It’s okay if you needed to,” she says quietly, her brown eyes sweeping over my face.
“I just did,” I gesture to the bathroom. But before I can say anything else, the door opens, and Rafe and Adela step inside together. Her expression is unreadable, but elegant. His mouth curves faintly, but there’s no humor in it. Heather’s laptop snaps shut, and Micah straightens.
“Come with us,” Rafe says flatly, leaving no room for negotiation.
Adela’s eyes flick to me.
“I, wh—now?” I ask. “Why?”
“There’s something I’d like you all to see before we go to Russia,” Rafe answers, his voice eerily soft.
My heart is hammering so hard it feels loud, like someone might comment on it if I don’t get the damn thing under control.
Heather brushes past me, her hand briefly squeezing mine as we follow them out into the hallway.
I want to ask where we’re going and why. But I don’t.
Rafe glances back once, his eyes locking on mine. And another wild chill runs down my spine. This man and his effect on me might just kill me before Alexei could get a chance.
I can’t stop my stupid fingers from fidgeting as we step out of Rafe’s black limo.
The night air is sharp and far too cold for my already shaking body.
We’re surrounded by trees on all sides, meaning that if any of us were to scream, no one would likely hear it.
A warehouse looms ahead, half-swallowed by shadow.
Old auto parts are scattered outside like this place was once a repair shop, maybe.
I touch my sternum, and Heather tracks the movement. She gives me a look that says, calm down. We’re okay.
Rafe doesn’t hesitate. He reaches for the warped metal door and yanks it open, and we hesitantly follow him inside. And then I freeze, my breath catching in my throat. A man is chained to a wall on the other side of the room.
Heather tenses beside me, her entire body going rigid.
Micah’s eyes narrow, his jaw tightening.
The man’s head hangs forward, chains digging into his wrists.
When he lifts his face, my stomach lurches.
Blood streaks his cheek and jaw, already drying dark against his skin.
One eye is swollen nearly shut. His short black hair is matted and uneven, like someone grabbed fistfuls of it and yanked his head around.
He looks like he’s in his forties. Maybe older. It’s hard to tell when someone’s been reduced to...this.
“What is this?” I hear myself ask, my voice thinner than I’d like.
No one answers.
We move closer, my feet carrying me forward even though my brain is screaming at me to run. Up close, the damage is worse. His lip is split, breathing shallow, and his remaining eye flicks over us.
Then footsteps sound from behind us.
I spin just in time to see Nico emerge from a back room, wiping his hands on a rag already stained with what looks to be...blood. He looks calm and casual, like he just finished changing a tire. It makes me feel a little sick.
“Thank you for retrieving him,” Rafe says evenly.
Nico nods once and leans back against the wall, arms crossing over his chest.
My heart is pounding so hard it hurts. I open my mouth again, words burning at the back of my throat, but Adela steps forward just enough to catch my eye.
Rafe’s gaze sweeps over me before he turns back to the man. He steps closer, his shoes echoing softly on concrete. “Good evening, Enzo,” he murmurs.
The man doesn’t respond. Instead, he spits. Bloody saliva misses Rafe by inches as he effortlessly steps aside.
I flinch.
Rafe looks down at it, then back at the man, a darkness beginning to slither behind his glacial eyes. “I hear you’ve been leaking shipping details to unfavorables,” he says calmly.
Enzo lifts his head and stares defiantly at Rafe.
The warmth drains from Rafe’s expression. Whatever mask he was wearing slides clean off. “You were warned, Enzo,” he says softly, leaning down to eye level. “That was your last fucking chance.”
My chest tightens. I take a step back without meaning to, bumping into Micah. “Rafe—” I start.
Too late.
Something in him shifts. The bored expression has completely evaporated. His jaw tightens. His icy eyes go flat and dark. Like a switch has suddenly been flipped, and whatever was pretending to be human steps aside for the demon to stalk forward.
Enzo laughs. It’s wet and broken. “You think you scare me?”
Rafe smiles, but it’s evil. A man so beautiful isn’t supposed to look like that.
“Observe,” Adela murmurs quietly beside me.
Rafe slowly steps closer to Enzo, like he’s a predator about to strike. He reaches out to tilt Enzo’s chin upward with two fingers. It’s eerily gentle and almost intimate. “You already made your choice,” Rafe says softly. “I’m just the consequence.”
Enzo spits again, a weak, defiant gesture. “Fuck you.”
Heather inhales sharply beside me, bracing for Rafe to snap.
He exhales through his nose, amused. Then he moves. One hand fists in Enzo’s hair, yanking his head back hard enough that the chains rattle violently against the wall.
Enzo lets out a startled gasp.
The sound that follows is horrific. A horrible, strangled noise that claws its way up my spine.
Without hesitation, Rafe drags a blade across Enzo’s throat with a smile on his face. Like he’s done this a hundred times before—and enjoyed every single one. Blood pours down Enzo’s chest and pools on the concrete. I can’t scream. The sound lodges in my chest and stays there, burning like hell.
Enzo jerks violently against the chains, heels scraping, body convulsing as Rafe holds him upright by his hair, watching him. Waiting. His expression doesn’t change. It remains cold and sickeningly focused, waiting to watch the light leave the man’s eyes.
Heather makes a broken sound beside me, fingers crushing my hand.
Enzo’s movements slow, and his head lolls forward within seconds. The weight of his body goes slack in Rafe’s grip, knees buckling uselessly beneath him.
Rafe lets go, and Enzo collapses to the floor in a dead heap, chains clanging loudly in the sudden silence.
It’s…over. He’s dead.
My ankles suddenly feel weak. I’m shaking so hard I can barely stand.
Rafe steps back, calmly wiping the blade on Enzo’s shirt before tucking it away. He adjusts his cuffs like he didn’t just end a life. Blood speckles his hands, his sleeve, the side of his neck. He looks entirely unfazed, which is somehow even more horrifying.
My ears ring, and my vision tunnels. The room feels like it’s closing in around us.
Oh, god. Oh, god.
Micah’s hands grip my elbows, steadying me before I realize I’m swaying. His breathing is tight. Heather hasn’t let go of my hand. Her grip hurts, but I don’t pull away.
Rafe turns toward us. Specifically, toward me. “This,” he says evenly, “is the reality you’re walking into. People in this world kill without a goddamn care.”
Each word hurts.
“Death is sudden,” he continues. “Violence is easy.”
My lungs burn. I drag in shallow, panicked breaths, my chest heaving.
“You get used to it,” Rafe says. “You have to. Because your boy is already living in this unpredictable world. Got that?”
Adela watches me closely now. Her expression is blank, like she’s expecting me to react. I don’t, though. I just close my mouth and stare at them.
Rafe steps closer, the coppery smell of blood following him. “If you’re going to save Jude,” he says quietly, gently raising a bloody hand to caress my jaw. “You need to understand what kind of monsters you’re up against. And I’m a perfect example.”
My legs tremble.
I don’t know if we can survive this.
And if we do? We'll never be the same.