Chapter 3
Emmett
The bar smells like aged whiskey and bad decisions. Dim lighting casts long shadows against the exposed brick walls, the quiet hum of a blues record playing low through the speakers. It’s late. The kind of late that invites trouble.
And trouble is currently sitting in the chair across from me, arms crossed, eyes sharp with defiance.
Raine.
She hasn’t said a damn thing since we got here. Not a word as I pushed her through the back entrance, past the regulars nursing their drinks, through the locked door leading to the backroom where no one asks questions.
I lean forward, resting my forearms on the worn wood table between us. "Start talking."
She arches a brow, unimpressed. "Oh? We’re skipping the part where you offer me a drink first? How rude."
I exhale through my nose. "I don’t have time for games. You knew those men were after you, and you sure as hell knew why. So, start talking. Now."
She leans back, stretching out like she owns the place. "And if I don’t? You gonna torture me, tough guy?" Her lips curl. "Sorry, not really into that."
I glare at her, jaw tightening. "I saved your ass back there. The least you could do is tell me what the hell you’re running from."
Her smile vanishes, replaced with something harder. "I don’t owe you anything."
The door creaks open before I can respond, and Theo steps inside. He takes one look at the scene before shaking his head and whistling low. "Well, well. Looks like you’ve got yourself a little firecracker."
Raine doesn’t react, her expression impassive, but I don’t miss the way her fingers twitch slightly on the armrest. She’s on edge.
Good. She should be.
Theo walks to the side, pours himself a drink from the bottle on the counter. "You really gonna do this, Emmett?" he asks without looking at me. "You know keeping her is a mistake."
I rub a hand over my face. "You think I don’t know that?"
Raine’s voice cuts through the tension. "You’re acting like I’m a stray dog you picked up off the street. Newsflash, boys—I don’t need keeping."
Theo chuckles, setting his glass down. "Cute. But trust me, sweetheart, if Dante Moreau is looking for you, you do."
At the sound of that name, Raine’s entire body goes rigid.
I see it.
Theo sees it.
And just like that, we have our answer.
She knows exactly why those men were after her.
And now, I do too.
Theo lets out a slow breath, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "Shit," he mutters. "Dante Moreau isn’t just another name on a hit list, Emmett. He’s the kind of man you don’t cross unless you’ve got a death wish."
I know that already. I’ve seen the aftermath of what Dante does to the people who get in his way. Men strung up like warnings. Women who disappear without a trace. But hearing it out loud solidifies the weight of what’s sitting in front of me.
"Moreau runs half the damn underground," Theo continues. "Trafficking, arms, money laundering. The cops don’t touch him because he owns most of them, and the ones he doesn’t? They go missing." He looks at me, his expression unreadable. "This isn’t some low-level thug we’re talking about. You keeping her? That’s an act of war. "
Raine shifts in her seat, arms still crossed, but I can see the flicker of something else in her eyes. Fear? No. Something deeper. Something she’s spent years trying to bury.
"You don’t have to keep me," she says, her voice quieter now, lacking its usual sharp edge. "I don’t expect anyone to fight my battles for me."
I meet her gaze, holding it. "Yeah? Then why the hell do you look like you’re about to run again?"
She doesn’t answer.
Theo sighs. "You’ve got options, Emmett.
One—hand her over, pretend you never saw her.
Two—put her on a bus, send her as far from Moreau’s reach as possible.
Or three—" He knocks back the rest of his drink and sets the glass down with a hard thunk.
"You fight for her. But if you do, you better be ready to burn everything to the ground. "