10. Wolfe
WOLFE
Ronan’s second deadline ran out yesterday, and I’ve got nothing left to dangle in front him…
Except for the truth.
I stare at my father’s house from my spot in the driveway. My car is off, thumb tapping fiercely against my leg as I run through every version of this meeting in my head.
None of them end with anyone happy.
My brothers know someone has been poking around both families’ systems. I told them weeks ago it was a coerced freelancer.
They bought that. What they still don’t know is her name, who’s pulling her strings, or the fact that I’ve been running her as an active double agent for two weeks while lying to their faces about it.
That’s about to change.
I get out of the car and walk inside, my shoulders slumped. I rake a hand through my hair and adjust my glasses when I walk into the office.
They’re all here and in their regular positions. Ronan sits behind Dad’s desk. Lochlan stands by the window. Gavin sprawls on the couch with his feet up, scrolling on his phone. Shockingly, his face is free of bruises today. Cillian leans against the doorframe.
“Well, well,” Gavin says when I drop into a chair across from him. “It’s a about damn time you showed up. Ronan’s been doing the jaw thing for twenty minutes.”
“I don’t have a thing,” Ronan says.
“You definitely have a thing,” Gavin says, shooting him a look over his shoulder. “You’ve had the thing since—”
“Shut up.” Ronan looks at me. “Talk.”
I give them some details about the ghost and the system breaches, more than I’ve shared since this whole chase began.
When I finish, Lochlan’s head tilts. That’s his tell. He knows something doesn’t add up.
Shiiiit.
“The targets are pretty specific,” he says. “Colonna properties. Adriana’s consulting data. And now you’re telling me someone pulled a calendar request on Vincent Renaldi.”
“Yeah.”
“Renaldi works for my wife,” he says, his blue eyes dark.
“I know who he works for.”
“Then you know the level of targeting you just explained doesn’t come from remote surveillance cameras.” He looks at me and lifts an eyebrow. “It comes from an actual source. A person feeding you specifics.”
Gavin pops up from his sprawled position, his eyes flying open wide.
“The coerced freelancer,” Lochlan says, taking a step toward me. “You turned whoever it was, didn’t you?”
I don’t answer. I just drop my eyes to my hands.
“When?” Ronan asks, an edge to his voice. He grips the edge of the desk and slowly gets up from his chair.
“Two weeks ago.”
“Two fucking weeks.” He lets that sit in the air like the stink of rotting garbage. “And the person pulling the strings? The one you said you were still working on? Who the fuck is it, Wolfe?”
This is the part. Christ, here we go.
“Dmitri Kozlov.”
The room goes dead silent. Cillian straightens up from the doorframe. Gavin scrapes a hand down the front of his face. Lochlan unfolds his arms, his jaw tightening.
“Viktor’s nephew,” Ronan says through gritted teeth.
“He’s running his own thing now. Separate from Viktor. I think he wanted a seat at the table and was pushed out. So now he’s pissed and is looking for a different way to do a power grab.”
“And you’ve known for two fucking weeks,” Ronan seethes. “How?”
“I tracked the ghost, figured out where she lived. Then I got a place nearby so I could keep tabs on her, to make sure I got all the intel I needed to build the full—”
“Two weeks, Wolfe.” Ronan slams his hands on the desk.
He doesn’t raise his voice, though. He never does.
Doesn’t mean he’s not on the brink of throttling me.
“I gave you a deadline. Then another one. And you’ve been running your own operation with a source I’ve never heard about, in another secret location in the city, tracking a Kozlov you never bothered to mention, and making decisions that affect this entire family. Fucking alone.”
“If I’d given you Dmitri’s name two weeks ago, you’d have called Viktor. Dmitri would have gotten tipped off, hid his ass underground, and we’d have lost the only thread we have.”
“That wasn’t your call.”
“It was the right one,” I say. “Even if you don’t want to admit it.”
“I don’t give a shit if it was right. I care that you made it without me.”
Gavin whistles low from the couch. “Damn.”
“Shut up, Gavin,” Ronan and I say at the same time.
Cillian coughs. I’m pretty sure it’s covering a laugh.
“Who is this ghost?” Ronan asks.
“Her name is Eva Moreno. She’s a convicted felon and was charged with corporate data theft. She’s been doing Dmitri’s work for about three months. Her brother’s got some heavy debts, and he took them over to keep her in line.”
“And you trust her.”
I shrug. “Her intel has been accurate every time.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“She wants her brother to be safe and protected. That’s what drives her. Not loyalty to us or Dmitri.”
“Does she even know who we are?” Gavin asks.
Everyone looks at him. Even Ronan.
“Why is that a weird question?” Gavin asks. “Does she know she’s been working with a Molloy? Because if she doesn’t, that changes everything about this conversation.”
Nobody speaks for a second. Fuck me, that’s the question, isn’t it? Not whether Eva’s intel is good. Not whether Dmitri is a real threat. It’s whether the woman I’ve been running as a source knows who she’s been running with.
“No,” I say. “She doesn’t.”
Gavin nods once, like that confirmed what he already figured out. Then he picks up a pen from the coffee table and spins it while everyone in the room stares at him, a little in shock.
I know I am.
I mean, valid question but from Gavin? Didn’t see that one coming from ten miles away.
“Everyone’s loyal to something,” Ronan says after a long pause. “I want to know what she’ll pick when push comes to shove.”
“So ask her yourself.”
“I will.” His eyes narrow. “Bring her in. Tomorrow.”
“Ronan—” I say.
“Tomorrow. I want to look at her and decide whether she’s useful or a problem.” He leans forward. “And Wolfe…she’s been inside our systems. That makes her dangerous no matter whose side she’s on. You understand that. Right?”
“Yeah.” I tug my hair. “Obviously.”
“Good. Ten o’clock.”
Gavin grabs me by the arm once we’re in the hallway. “Hey. So, you’re not hiding the whole covert double agent shit from Ronan,” he says. “You’re hiding her.”
I don’t answer.
“That’s why you sat on it for two weeks. Not because you needed more data. Because you knew what’d happen when Ronan got his hands on a source he doesn’t trust.” He leans closer. “You’re protecting her. From us.”
I shrug. “She’s an asset.”
“Bro, she’s a person you moved for. You’re kind of a creature of habit, but now you’re living Christ only knows where to be close to her. There’s a difference.” He slugs my arm. “Whatever. It’s fine. I’m not judging. It’s about time one of your obsessions had a fucking heartbeat.”
Cillian stops next to us. “Leave him alone, G.”
Gavin holds up his hands. “I’m not doing anything. I’m being supportive.”
“You’re being an asshole. There’s a difference. Go make a sandwich.” Cillian looks at me. “You good?”
I shrug. “Fine.”
“You’re not fine.” Cillian walks with me to the front door, his voice dropping. “How deep are you in this?”
“Deep.” The stress knot lodged at the base of my skull throbs.
“With the operation, or with her?”
I don’t answer, my eyes on the hardwood floor.
“Both,” he says. “Right.” He leans against the doorframe, which is his favorite position in every room. “Ronan’s not going to forget this. You know that.”
“I know.”
“And the woman. Eva. If she’s real, bring her in and let her speak for herself. If there’s something else going on...” He pauses. “Just be careful.”
“You said that last time,” I say, rolling my eyes. “I heard it then, too.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t listen last time.” He knocks his leg against the doorframe once. “And don’t forget basketball. You better not flake.”
“I won’t.” I reach for the door handle.
Cillian puts a hand on my shoulder. “Wolfe?”
“Yeah.”
“Eat some real food, yeah?”
If he only knew the kind of food I’ve been eating because my mind is wrapped so tight around Eva that I want to be around Rosario’s because it makes me feel closer to her.
I walk outside and squeeze the back of my neck.
Shit. Is that really why?
I drive back across town with Sabbath on because my brain needs something louder than the shit filling it.
Vincent Renaldi. I confirmed the guy’s identity last night, before Lochlan mentioned anything. He manages operations for a DiMicheli property group. Adriana’s people. His calendar tells Dmitri exactly when specific locations are vulnerable. When security rotates. When nobody’s watching.
Eva is about to hand Dmitri a blueprint for hitting my sister-in-law’s operation. And she has no idea.
I can’t let Eva deliver that calendar without telling her what she’s delivering. And I can’t tell her what she’s delivering without telling her who I am.
My fist hovers in the air for a long minute before I finally knock on Eva’s door. Her feet pad across the floor, and another thirty seconds pass before she opens the door with wet hair and furrowed brows.
“It’s Wednesday,” she says. “I don’t have anything for you yet.”
“I’m not here about the job.”
Her eyes narrow. “What do you want, then?”
“Can I come in?”
She twists her hair around her finger and steps back to let me in.
I walk into the apartment, same as the day we met. It’s small and clean, with the desk pushed against the wall.
The knife is on the counter, too. I wonder if she pulled it out before she saw it was me behind the peephole.
I sit at the kitchen table. She stays standing.
“What happened?” she asks, biting her lower lip.
“I need to tell you something.”
“That’s never good.” She backs against the kitchen counter. “Is Sal okay?”
“Yeah, everything is fine with Sal,” I say. “Listen, Eva. I’m here because I need to tell you that my last name is Molloy.”
She doesn’t react, at least, not right away. She just stands there, arms hanging at her sides, face completely still.
“Molloy,” she says.
“Yeah.”
“As in the Molloys.”
“Yeah.”
“The South Boston Molloys. The ones who—”
“Yeah.”
Her mouth snaps closed. I watch her eyes zip around the space. My face to the table to the wall and finally to the door.
She’s mapping exits. Not because she’s leaving. Because that’s what she does when the ground shifts under her feet and threatens to pull her under.
“The data I’ve been pulling,” she says. “Colonna. The consulting firm. Meridian.”
“They’re all connected to my family. Or to the DiMichelis, who are allied with us through marriage.”
“And Renaldi?”
“He works for my sister-in-law, Adriana.”
She presses a hand to her forehead. “Shit,” she mutters.
Every piece clicks into a puzzle she doesn’t want to see.
“So I’ve been working next to you every night. Sitting at your kitchen table. Letting you meet my brother. And the whole time you’ve been...” She trails off, shaking her head. “Fuck.”
“I was trying to protect you.”
“From your own family.”
“From a situation that could get you killed.”
“By your family.”
I don’t have a response for that one. She’s not wrong.
I know my brother Ronan.
“You sat on my stoop.” Her voice drops so low, I can barely hear it. “You moved into my neighborhood. You ate at Sal’s bar. You paid off his debt.” She pauses. “And you couldn’t tell me your goddamn last name.”
“If I told you that first night, you would have run.”
“You’re goddamn right I would have!”
“And Dmitri would still have Sal by the balls. And you, as well, indirectly, of course.”
Her jaw clenches. “Don’t use my brother to justify lying to me.”
“I’m not justifying it. I’m telling you why I did it.”
“Same thing.”
“It’s not. One means I think I was right. The other means I know it was wrong and I did it anyway because the alternative was worse.”
She stares at me. Her walls build up right in front of my eyes. Brick by brick, so fast, it makes my head spin.
She’s shutting me out and I can’t stop it.
“My brothers want to meet you,” I say. “Tomorrow at ten o’clock.”
“Your brothers.”
“My oldest brother Ronan knows about you. Not everything, but enough. He runs the show and wants to see you himself. If I don’t bring you in, he’ll send people to find you. That won’t go well.”
“So I go voluntarily or I get dragged in,” she snaps. “Great fucking options.”
“I’m telling you now so you have a choice.”
She clutches a hand to her heart and cocks her head, flashing me a smile. “Oh, that’s so generous of you. Giving me a choice.” Her head snaps back, glaring at me. “After weeks of making choices for me.”
“Is that supposed to be sarcasm?” I ask. “Because I—”
“Yes, it’s fucking sarcasm,” she spews, slamming a hand against the counter.
“Okay,” I say. “I was just checking.”
“And I’ll go with you…only because of Sal.” She stalks to the door and opens it. “Now get the fuck out.”
“Okay. So tomorrow at ten.”
“I’ll be out front.” She sticks a finger into my chest when I get to the door. “And not because I trust you. Because Dmitri is still out there, and walking away from you means walking away from the only way this ends.”
“I know.”
“You know everything about me, and I didn’t even know your last fucking name. I could have dug into you on day one. I chose not to. That’s the part that pisses me off the most. Because I chose to trust you.”
I stand in the doorway, my brain buzzing with so many thoughts I don’t know how to say.
“Was any of it real?” she asks. “The ginger ale and the Cheerios and the music and Sal’s restaurant. Any of it? Was that really you?”
“Yeah.” I swallow hard. “All of it.”
“See, that’s my big problem.” Her words cut as deep as her eyes. “Because I believe you. And I really don’t want to.”
I walk out the door. It slams shut behind me. The deadbolt snaps into place, followed by the chain latch.
I stand in the hallway for a second, staring at the door.
The worst part isn’t that she’s angry at me.
It’s why.
I deceived her. I used her. I made decisions for her. I controlled her.
And I knew it the entire time and never gave her a choice about any of it.