Chapter 4
Raine
The car ride is silent, except for the sound of the rain hammering against the windshield. The darkness outside is endless, stretching beyond the glow of the headlights. Trees blur past in the storm, the narrow road winding into nowhere.
I don’t ask where we’re going.
Because I already know the answer.
Nowhere.
Emmett’s grip on the steering wheel is tight, his knuckles pale in the dim light.
He hasn’t looked at me once since we left the bar, and I’m not stupid enough to think that means he’s ignoring me.
No, he’s calculating. Measuring. Trying to figure out what the hell to do with the girl who just dragged him into a war he never wanted.
Too bad for him, I don’t need saving.
I shift in my seat, testing the weight of the situation. My body still aches from the fight, bruises forming beneath my skin, but it’s nothing I haven’t endured before. Pain is familiar. Expected. The real discomfort is the fact that I’m in this car at all.
I should have run. The moment Emmett turned his back at the bar, I should have slipped into the night, disappeared before he could decide I wasn’t worth the trouble.
But I didn’t.
That mistake is going to cost me.
The safe house is exactly what I expected—cold, isolated, and secure. The cabin sits on the edge of the woods, barely visible beneath the canopy of trees. No neighbors. No way to scream for help. Just silence, thick and suffocating.
Emmett parks the car and steps out first, moving around to my side before I can reach for the door handle. He swings it open, his expression unreadable. "Inside."
I don’t move. "You planning to chain me to a radiator, too?"
His jaw tics. "Not unless you make me."
I hold his stare, testing my limits. Then I step out, brushing past him into the house.
The inside is sparse, all dark wood and stone, a single lamp casting a dull glow over the room.
There’s a couch, a fireplace, and a kitchen that looks barely used.
One door leads to what I assume is the bedroom. Another, to a bathroom.
No weapons in sight. No easy exits.
He locks the door behind him. I hear the click of deadbolts, the rustle of a gun being holstered. "Make yourself comfortable."
I cross my arms. "How long do you plan on keeping me here?"
"Until I figure out what to do with you."
I laugh. "I’m not a problem you need to solve, Emmett."
"You’re a problem whether I want you to be or not."
I wait until he disappears into the other room before I make my move.
The second I hear the faint creak of floorboards, I lunge for the door, twisting the handle hard.
Locked.
Of course it’s locked.
I pivot, eyes scanning the room for another way out. The windows are reinforced. The only way out is the back door. Quietly, I cross the room, pressing my fingers against the wood. It doesn’t budge. More locks. More ways to keep me trapped.
I grit my teeth, frustration boiling beneath my skin. I should have known he’d be two steps ahead.
"Going somewhere?"
His voice is calm, almost bored, but I know better. I turn slowly to find him leaning against the doorway, arms crossed.
"Bathroom," I say, feigning innocence.
His gaze drops to my hands, still pressed against the door. "That where you keep your escape plans?"
I exhale sharply. "You can’t keep me here."
"Watch me."
"Dante won’t just forget about me, you know."
Something flickers in his eyes at that name. Something dark. "I don’t care about Dante."
I take a step toward him. "Then let me go."
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. Just watches me like I’m a puzzle he hasn’t quite figured out yet.
"You really think you’re better off alone?" he finally asks.
I don’t hesitate. "I know I am."
His lips press into a thin line, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he pushes off the doorframe and steps closer. "Then why didn’t you run back at the bar?"
I hate that question. Hate that I don’t have an answer.
So I don’t give him one.
I curl into the corner of the couch, staring at the fire Emmett lit an hour ago. The warmth does little to ease the chill in my bones, but at least it gives me something to focus on.
I should be asleep. I should be gathering my strength for my next escape attempt. But my mind won’t stop racing.
Mia. My sister. My only family. My only reason to keep fighting.
We never had anyone else. Our mother left when we were kids—walked out one day and never looked back.
Our father was already a ghost by then, a man who spent more time drowning in a bottle than raising us.
By the time I was twelve, I knew how to fend for myself.
By the time I was fifteen, I was making sure Mia never went hungry, never had to see the ugliness of the world the way I did.
But the world has a way of forcing its darkness onto you, no matter how hard you fight it.
When our father finally drank himself to death, no one came looking for us. No relatives. No friends. It was just me and Mia, two kids trying to survive in a world that had already decided we didn’t matter.
And then Dante found me.
I was eighteen, desperate, reckless. He made promises—food, shelter, security.
For me. For Mia. And for a while, I believed him.
I let him pull me into his orbit, into a world of money, power, and whispered threats.
I thought I could outsmart him. That I could play his game without becoming another one of his pawns.
I was wrong.
I never told Mia the full truth. She was too young. Too innocent. I let her believe I was working for someone powerful, that I was doing what I had to do to keep us safe. And I kept it together for as long as I could.
Until the day Dante decided that keeping me wasn’t enough. That he wanted Mia, too.
That was the day I ran. The day I became the thing Dante hated most—a loose end.
She doesn’t know where I am. Doesn’t know what happened. If Dante got to her first—
I push the thought away before it can take root. I’ll get to her. I always do.
I just need to get out of here first.
Emmett and Theo. I don’t know what to make of them yet. Theo watches me like I’m a complication he doesn’t want, while Emmett... he watches me like he sees something I don’t. Like he’s looking for a reason to care.
I can’t let him.
Men like him—men who play at being heroes—they always want something in return.
And I don’t have anything left to give.