Chapter Sixteen
Dawn
The scent of fresh coffee and printer ink clings to the air as I step into Luke’s campaign office, the steady hum of ringing phones and hurried footsteps filling the space. His name is everywhere—Luke Carter for Governor, printed on signs, posters, and press releases stacked high on desks.
He’s at his desk, sleeves rolled up, flipping through a folder while stepping up from his seat.
I shouldn’t be here. I don’t even know what I’m looking for. Answers? Reassurance? Some kind of proof that he’s safe?
It’s not like seeing him will erase the file with his name on it. But I had to see him. Had to make sure he’s okay with my own eyes.
Luke notices me and grins like nothing is wrong. “You made it.” He says, pushing away from his desk and walking over. “Figured you’d still like pepperoni.”
My stomach twists. He has no idea.
Before I can say anything, he pulls me into a hug, strong and familiar. For a second, I just let myself sink into it—into the solid warmth of my brother, into the way his arms wrap around me like they always have.
Like nothing is wrong.
I close my eyes, pressing my forehead against his shoulder just briefly before pulling back. If I stay too long, I’ll break.
“You figured right.” I say, my voice steadier than I feel.
He lets go, giving me a look like he’s trying to read me, but he doesn’t push. Instead, he gestures toward the table in the corner. Two pizza boxes sit there, lids already cracked open. “Come on, let’s eat before it gets cold.”
I follow him over, taking a seat with him and grabbing a slice as he does the same. He takes a massive bite and groans like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.
“God, I swear I live on catered lunches and campaign dinners.” He says around a mouthful of food. “I forgot what real pizza tastes like.”
I huff out a laugh, taking a bite of my own. “Tragic.”
“You’re telling me.” He stretches out a little as he chews, relaxing. “So. You like being back in California?”
I hesitate for half a second. “Yeah. It’s… different, but good.”
Luke raises an eyebrow. “That sounded convincing.”
I roll my eyes. “It is good. I’ve just been busy. Work’s intense.”
He nods, chewing, then tilts his head. “How’s, uh, what’s-her-name? Your friend from when we were kids?”
“Cassidy?” I smirk,” Still wild.”
Luke chuckles. “Figures. You two always did make a chaotic pair, even back then.”
“Still are,” I say, pulling out my phone. “She actually dragged me out the other night—hold on, I can pull up a picture.”
Already feeling more relaxed just from being in his presence, I open Instagram, but it stalls on the loading screen. I frown, refreshing it, but nothing happens.
Luke leans over. “No signal?”
“Guess not. Service sucks in here.”
“Use the office Wi-Fi.” He reaches for his own phone. “I’ll log you in.”
He rattles off the password, and I enter it. But the moment I hit connect, my screen glitches. A sharp flicker, like static cutting across the pixels, before the screen freezes, then flashes black for half a second before coming back.
I blink.
Luke raises a brow, glancing up to me, then back to my screen. “Weird.”
“Yeah, I know. It’s been acting up the past couple of weeks.” I reply, looking over the screen as if I’ll be able to see an issue in the glass somewhere.
“You probably need to update it. Mine did that too. But your connection should work now.”
And it does. Instagram loads instantly.
I shake off the weird feeling from the glitch, giving a casual smile as I pull up a photo. “Here—Cass, in all her glory.”
Luke laughs, leaning over to look. “Jesus, she grew up, huh?”
“We all did.” I smile.
Luke shakes his head, still staring at the photo. “Man, that’s wild. I still picture her as that tiny kid running around our backyard, bossing us around like she was in charge.”
I let out a freeing laugh. “She still does that. Just with better hair and a credit card.”
He huffs out a laugh. “Sounds about right.”
I take another bite of pizza, sinking into the couch. For the first time in days, I feel like I can just breathe. The weight in my chest eases, and for now, this moment—just sitting here, eating greasy pizza with my big brother—feels normal.
Luke nudges my foot under the table. “I’m glad you came by.”
I glance up, smiling. “Me too.”
. . .
The door clicks shut behind me, the lock sliding into place with a dull thunk.
I hesitate.
Something about the silence feels too heavy, too absolute. I check the lock again, twisting the knob, pressing against the frame to make sure it catches.
Old habit. Or maybe a new one.
I exhale, rolling my shoulders back as I step inside. The apartment looks the same. The TV, the shelves, the blanket on the couch that should make it feel lived in. Safe.
But something is off.
It should feel like a sanctuary. It doesn’t.
The tension that had gripped me all morning has eased, just a little. Seeing Luke, watching him laugh, eating pizza at his office—it settled something in my chest, even if only for a moment. He’s fine.
I drop my keys onto the counter, the metal clinking against the surface, the sound swallowed by the quiet. I grab a glass and fill it from the sink. The running water hums through the silence, grounding me.
I take a sip.
But my mind won’t stop working.
The file.
Luke’s name. My name.
I tighten my grip around the glass, fingers pressing into the cool surface as the weight of it settles into my chest again.
And then—the realization hits, slamming into me, tearing through muscle and bone like an unshakable truth that was always there, lurking just beneath the surface.
I wasn’t hired because they thought I would be good at this job. I wasn’t hired because Nikolai saw potential in me. I was never meant to succeed on my own.
I was hired because I’m Luke’s sister.
A bitter laugh claws its way up my throat. Of course. Of course I was stupid enough to believe it was real—believe he was real.
That he wanted me.
The thought twists, sharp and ugly in my chest, sinking deep like a blade, carving out something raw.
Did any of it mean anything?
The way he looked at me. The way he touched me. The way he whispered my name like it belonged to him.
I squeeze my eyes shut, heat burning behind them, but I refuse to let it spill over. It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. It was all a game. A carefully laid-out strategy. It had to be.
I inhale sharply, forcing the sting back down as I pick up my phone to check the time. The screen lights up, and a message is waiting.
Nikolai: Call me when you get home
My stomach twists violently, breath catching in my throat. I lock the screen without answering, fingers gripping the phone too tight, like I could crush it.
I can still feel him somehow. The warmth of his hands, the weight of his gaze, the heat in his voice. My body doesn’t seem to understand what my mind does—that he’s a liar. That every moment, every touch, every whispered word was nothing more than a way in.
A way to control me.
I need a shower.
The water scalds my skin, but it doesn’t wash any of my tension away. It clings to me, burrowing deep, settling in my bones like it’s never leaving.
Bzzz. Bzzz.
I dry my hands before picking up my phone. A text.
Nikolai: Dawn?
I inhale sharply, my jaw locking as I stare at the screen.
He knew I was out.
The realization slithers down my spine, cold and unshakable. I never told him I went to see Luke today. Never reached out to him. But he still knew.
Of course, he did. He can track my location.
The unease that had been simmering beneath my skin turns razor-sharp. My pulse beats a little harder, a little faster. Was he checking? Did he see I wasn’t home and decide to reach out? Or was this just habit for him—knowing where I was at all times, never needing to ask?
I don’t answer. I don’t even let myself think about it.
Instead, I get out of the shower, drying off enough to put on some warm pajamas. I walk to the couch, lower myself into the cushions, and grab the remote with fingers that are colder than they should be. The TV flickers to life, some random show filling the silence.
The show on the screen doesn’t matter. As long as it drowns everything else out.
. . .
The TV hums in the background, the voices blending together in a meaningless blur, but I’m not listening.
I haven’t been for a while.
I’m still curled up on the couch, knees pulled close, the remote resting against my leg. My body sinking deeper into the cushions like I could disappear into them.
I should turn it off. Go to bed. Do something other than sit here, trapped in my own thoughts. But the idea of lying in the dark, alone with my mind feels worse.
My gaze flicks to the coffee table, to my phone sitting face down. I haven’t checked it since his last message.
Just my name. Unanswered.
I inhale slowly, trying to push the weight in my chest down, but it stays there—settled deep, refusing to move.
I was hired for Luke. Not because I’d be any good at the job. Not because I deserved to be here.
Nikolai knew. He had to. He’s the one who hired me.
The truth coils in my stomach, thick and heavy, dragging everything else down with it.
Everything he said to me—was any of it real? Was I just another name on a file? Another calculated decision?
Was I ever anything more than that to him?
I exhale, rubbing my hands down my arms, trying to shake off the cold that has nothing to do with the temperature. Finally, I pick up the remote and shut off the TV.
The silence is instant.
Too loud.
I push off the couch, stretching my limbs before making my way to the bedroom. I keep the lights low as I climb under the blankets, shifting onto my side. The sheets are cool against my skin, the room quiet except for the occasional distant hum of the city outside.
I lay there, thinking. Overthinking. Replaying everything in my head when a memory comes to me.
My first week at Blackthorn.
It had been a blur—long hours, high expectations, the constant weight of wondering if I was doing something wrong. I barely knew what I was doing.
And then, one day, Nikolai had taken me down to the archives.
“Your keycard should work—try it.”
The door unlocked for me without hesitation.
At the time, I didn’t think twice about it. I was his assistant. Of course I needed access to records, files, whatever’s down there. We didn’t go in.
But now?
Now I think I need to go look around. Maybe find out where the files on Luke came from.
And I have his clearance.
A slow uneasy feeling curls at the base of my spine, but washes away as I slip further into the sheets, drifting.
For a second, I think I might actually sleep.
Then my phone vibrates against the bedside table, and I freeze.
Slowly, I turn my head, watching the screen light up in the dark.
Nikolai
The call rings on.
I don’t pick up.