44. Kane
KANE
I stand on the front steps long after Stepan's taillights disappear.
The cold doesn't register. Neither does the noise from the street or the lights in the windows of neighboring brownstones.
All I can see is Lilah's face in the back of that car.
Inside, the house is too quiet.
I walk to my office and sit at the desk.
My phone sits beside the keyboard.
I pick it up and open our message thread without thinking.
The last text is from yesterday afternoon. A photo she sent of the pie she planned to make for Thanksgiving with our friends. Golden crust, perfect lattice work, steam rising from the vents.
LILAH: Think your men will like it?
ME: They'll love it. Because you made it.
LILAH: Flatterer.
ME: Realist.
I scroll up. More photos. More messages. Weeks of conversation that ends today.
Because, from now on, I'll be expected to communicate through Skye.
I close the thread and set the phone down.
Then I open my laptop and pull up work instead.
Numbers. Contracts. Reports that need review.
Things I can control.
Anton knocks on the doorframe five minutes later. "Mr. Makov."
I don't look up. "What?"
"Niko is here."
"Tell him I'm busy."
"He says it's urgent."
I close the laptop. "Fine. Send him in."
Niko enters a moment later and closes the door behind him.
He looks me up and down. "You look like shit."
"Lilah left me."
I don't mean to say it. The words just tumble out.
Niko stares. "Shit."
"Yeah," I agree. "Shit."
"I can come back if—"
"No. Just get to the point."
He sits in the chair across from my desk. "Vetrov's chop shop on Coney Island Avenue. The men are getting restless. They keep insisting we hit it."
"And we already told them no."
"I know. But it's a powder keg, Kane. It's heating up fast. And it's only a matter of time before they stop asking for permission and start asking for forgiveness."
I grind my teeth. Of course it is. Bratva men don't like to let slights go unanswered.
"I came to warn you, figure out how to stop it. But if Delilah is… well…"
"What?" The mention of her name is enough to set my blood on fire. "If Delilah what?"
"If she's no longer your girlfriend, then the agreement is void. You don't have to let the system handle it anymore. You can take your pound of flesh right here, right now."
I rise slowly. "What the fuck are you talking about?"
"We could hit the chop shop tonight. Burn the place. Send a message."
"No."
"No?"
"You heard me."
"Kane—"
"I said no."
He leans forward. "He kidnapped her. He burned her bakery. He's been targeting her for months. The only reason we were holding off was because of the deal you had with her to let the courts handle it. But that's gone now. And you're still telling me we do nothing?"
"I'm telling you we stick to the legal strategy. Skye files the opposition. Martin Cross's report proves the bakery is legitimate. We undermine Fletcher's financing. We wait for the hearing."
"And what if that doesn't work?"
"It will."
"You don't know that."
I meet his eyes. "I gave my word. To Lilah. That we'd handle this legally. And I'm not breaking another promise to her."
Niko's face falls. "She left you."
"She did."
"So why—"
"Because it doesn't matter whether she's with me or not. She's still in danger. And I'm not going to make things worse by starting a war that puts her in the crossfire."
"Wow," he says. "You really love her."
"I do."
"Even though she walked away."
"That doesn't change anything."
He exhales and sits back in the chair. "What do you need from me?"
"Keep the men in check. Make sure nobody goes after Vetrov without authorization. And tell the investigators to send everything they find to Skye. Directly."
"You want them reporting to Delilah's lawyer?"
"Yes. She needs to know what we're learning. In real time. No delays."
Niko studies me. "You're trying to prove you won't withhold information."
"I'm trying to keep my word."
He nods slowly. "All right. I'll handle it."
He stands and walks to the door.
"Nik."
He turns back. "Yeah?"
"Thank you."
He nods once and leaves.
I sit there, staring at my phone.
I want to call her.
I want to ask if she made it home safely. If she ate dinner. If she needs anything.
I want to hear her voice.
But I can't.
Because she asked me to stop.
So I close the laptop, turn off the lights, and go upstairs.
The bedroom feels too big without her.
I strip off my clothes and get into bed.
Then I lie there, staring at the ceiling, replaying every moment of tonight.
The betrayal in her eyes when she realized I'd known all along.
Her voice breaking when she said she couldn't trust me.
Her face in the car, looking back one last time.
And I know, with absolute certainty, that I deserve every second of this.
The next three weeks are hell.
I work. I eat when Anton forces me to. I sleep when exhaustion takes over.
And I think about Lilah.
Every goddamn minute of every goddamn day.
Yuri tries to brief me on Vetrov's movements, but I can barely focus.
Stepan asks if I need anything. I tell him no.
Anton sets meals in front of me that I don't finish.
And Niko watches me like I'm about to break.
Maybe I am.
I catch myself opening our message thread a dozen times. I stop myself every time.
She asked me to communicate through Skye.
So I do.
Or rather, I have Gershon communicate with Skye while I review every document before it's sent.
I make sure she has everything. Every report. Any new piece of evidence. Fresh developments in the case.
I don't ask how she's doing. Or if she's okay.
I just send the information and hope it's enough.
It's not.
But it's all I have.
In early December, I start driving past the bakery.
Not every day. But sometimes. When the walls of my house feel too close and the silence gets too loud.
I park a block away and watch from the car.
She usually works late. The lights in the front windows stay on long after closing, and sometimes I see her moving around inside.
Stocking shelves. Wiping down tables. Carrying trays from the back.
She looks exhausted.
I want to go inside. To tell her to stop working so hard. To take her home and make her eat dinner and hold her while she sleeps.
But I can't.
Because I'm the one who broke her trust.
So I sit in the car and watch from a distance.
And I tell myself I'm not stalking her.
Even though I absolutely am.
On a Thursday night in December, I'm standing next to my car in my usual spot when something cold presses against my back.
My mind yells knife.
I freeze.
"Don't move," a voice says behind me.
I almost laugh then.
Because it's not just any voice.
It's Lilah's voice.
I turn around slowly.
She's standing on the sidewalk, her keys jutting out between her knuckles like makeshift brass knuckles.
Not a knife, then.
She lowers her hand. "Were you planning to keep this up forever?"
My lips curve despite myself. "How long have you known?"
"Since the first night."
"And you didn't say anything."
She shrugs. "I figured you'd get bored of stalking me eventually."
She starts walking away.
I go after her. "Lilah—"
"Don't."
"I wasn't—"
"You were absolutely stalking me, Kane. Let's not pretend otherwise."
She's right.
I exhale. "I'm sorry."
"For stalking me? Or for lying?"
"Both."
She crosses her arms over her chest. "Why are you here?"
"I wanted to make sure you were okay."
"You could have called."
"You asked me not to."
"So you decided to lurk outside my bakery instead?"
"I know how it sounds."
"Do you?"
I run a hand through my hair. "I fucked up. I know that. I knew it the moment you walked out of my house. And I've been trying to respect your boundaries. But I can't stop—"
I stop myself before I say something I can't take back.
She waits.
When I don't continue, she says, "You can't stop what?"
"Worrying about you."
Her eyes soften for a second before hardening again. "I'm fine."
"Are you?"
"Yes."
"Lilah—"
"I don't need you to protect me, Kane. I told you that."
"I know."
"Then why are you here?"
Because I can't stay away.
Because I miss you so much I can barely breathe.
Because I love you and I don't know how to stop.
But I can't say any of that.
So I say, "I'm sorry. For everything. I lied to you because I wanted forever with you, but I was wrong. I never should have done it."
Lilah hesitates. Then she says, "I keep wanting to call you."
My mouth quirks. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. And then I remember I'm angry with you. And I stop."
Those two words—I stop—cut deeper than any knife.
"I understand."
"Do you?"
"I do."
She hugs herself tighter, her breath fogging in the cold air between us. "I miss you."
The words hit me like a punch.
"I miss you too," I say.
"But I can't—" Her voice breaks. "I can't do this again, Kane. I can't be with someone who decides what I can handle."
"I know."
"Do you? Because you just told me why you did it. You wanted the future I offered you. So you withheld information that might have threatened it."
"I did."
"Which means you'll do it again."
I want to argue. To tell her I won't. That I've learned my lesson.
But I can't promise that.
Because she's right.
If I thought the truth would drive her away, I'd hesitate. I'd weigh the consequences.
I might even decide to wait.
And that's not fair to her.
"You're right," I say.
She blinks. "What?"
"You're right. I might do it again. Not because I don't trust you, Lilah, but because I'm terrified of losing you. And that fear makes me stupid."
She doesn't say anything.
"I'm not asking you to come back," I continue. "I know I don't deserve that. I just—"
I stop.
Because I don't know how to finish that sentence.
Finally, Lilah sighs. "I'm sorry, Kane. I want to forgive you. I really do. But I can't keep going through this. I have to put myself first."
I clench my fists in my coat pockets. "I know."
"I need to protect my own heart."
"I understand."
"Do you?" Her eyes turn misty. "Then let me go."
She walks away.
It takes everything in me not to follow.