Chapter 19 Roran
Roran
“You’re not serious, are you?”
Diana’s voice echoes across the abandoned parking lot, the one Vlad told her to wait at.
My eyes widen, and I whip toward her, pressing a finger to my lips.
“Shhh! Are you crazy?” I hiss. We can’t get caught out here. Not by our father’s men, and definitely not by Vlad before I understand what game he’s playing.
He’s not here yet. And we need to keep quiet.
Realizing her mistake, Diana clamps a hand over her mouth. The guilt flashes in her eyes. She knows that one slip could’ve cost us everything.
The parking lot used to belong to a small shopping strip, but it was shut down after a so-called fire accident that killed over twenty-five people.
But I know better.
It used to be under the Italians’ protection. Until my father sent Solas to handle one of their men, someone reported hanging around here too often.
Solas didn’t just handle him. He killed him on the spot and torched the place to make it look like an accident.
Idiot move—not that it was his first. And ever since, the Italians have been crawling up my father’s neck every damn day.
Not that I blame the Italians. Honestly? If I had the chance and ability, I would’ve done it myself—killing that stupid uncle of mine together with my shit of a father.
A smirk pulls at my lips, but it fades the second I hear the low hum of a car entering the lot.
I grab Diana’s arm and yank her behind a row of rusty trash cans lining the side wall.
“God,” she groans, exasperated. “You just had to shove us right next to the stink pile?”
She dramatically gags, fanning the air like it might save her.
I roll my eyes and shoot her another sharp finger-to-lips warning.
She exhales hard through her nose, clamping her mouth shut again and leaning in close.
“Don’t think that means we’re done talking.”
Her voice drops to a whisper, right by my ear. “You’re seriously getting married on Saturday?”
“Di, not now.”
I shoot her a glare and tilt my head, peering through the space between the two trash cans at our side.
The car’s pulled up. Only one guy gets out—probably Vlad. No one else in sight.
Weird.
He steps to the front of the car, scanning the empty lot. Then pulls out his phone and starts typing. He’s looking for Diana.
A sudden vibration from her phone makes both of us jump, my heart pounding like a drum in my chest. I slip a hand into my bag, brushing my fingers over the cold steel of the gun I brought—just in case. Just to ground myself.
I nod at Diana impatiently, urging her to check the message. Thankfully, Vlad doesn’t seem to hear anything. He’s not even looking in our direction.
Diana carefully hands me her phone. The screen lights up.
I’m here. Come now. The others will arrive in less than ten minutes.
01:11 a.m.
He really did keep his word.
What the hell is wrong with him?
He couldn’t possibly be into Di—
No. Don’t go there. Don’t feed that twisted pedophile’s fantasy.
“You stay here. I’ll handle it.” My voice comes out cold, even to my own ears.
She clutches her phone tighter.
“We’re here because of my plan,” she hisses through gritted teeth. “We’re leaving together, or not at all.”
She’s getting harder to boss around. On any other day, I’d be proud of her for it. Today? Not so much.
“Di—”
Her name comes out low, almost a growl. But she ignores the warning glare and starts typing again.
What the hell is she—
No.
She hits send.
I snatch the phone out of her hand.
I came out here with my sister. I wasn’t sure you’d be alone.
1:12 a.m.
“Diana…” I swear under my breath.
“You left me no choice.” She stands, reaching down to help me up, like she’s the older sister now.
I let out a long sigh. No point in hiding anymore. I get up, stepping out from behind the trash cans, gripping Diana’s arm tightly.
Not because I’m scared.
Because I don’t trust her not to do something stupid again. Not without my permission.
As we approach, Vlad’s gaze locks on mine. He’s clearly not thrilled about the unexpected plus-one. In our world, a plus one is the thing that gets us caught—or worse, dead.
His dark hair is a mess, and now that we’re close, I notice sweat pouring down his face. Like he ran here. Not drove.
He looks frantic, eyes darting everywhere.
Didn’t he say we had ten minutes?
What the hell is coming? Or who…
“I told you to come alone,” he snaps in Russian, eyes narrowing at Diana. But as his gaze trails down her body and back up, his scowl shifts into a disgusting smirk.
I wrinkle my nose in disgust.
“She’s not the one you need to talk to. Look only here.” I jab a finger at my face, ice cold. Channeling every ounce of the bar manager I’ve trained myself to be.
He rolls his eyes and reaches into his pocket. I tense, hand going straight to the gun in my bag.
But he just pulls out a box of cigarettes and leans against his cheap van.
“I don’t have time for this, so let’s make it quick. Diana said she wants to talk about my… product. So talk.” He shrugs, lights a cigarette, and exhales slowly like this is some casual deal.
“The medicine you sell to Fedor Morozov,” I say coldly, cutting Diana off. “To Solas Morozov,” I clarify when he squints at me, surprised.
“How do you know about Fedor’s drug?”
He yanks the cigarette from his mouth, visibly startled.
I narrow my eyes and glance sharply at Diana.
What the hell?
I saw their messages. Why is he pretending he doesn’t know?
“You told me you’d help me buy some… before Solas gets it,” Diana jumps in. “That you’d keep it off record.”
“I meant… how do you know Fedor is the one behind it? Solas wouldn’t have told you that,” he snaps, pushing off the van and tossing his cigarette to the ground.
Oh.
He really doesn’t know who we are.
Of course, he doesn’t. No one knows Fedor Morozov has bastard daughters. And I’m sure as hell not giving that away without leverage.
“I run the Konfetki for him,” I say flatly. “I know more than you think—even without Solas.”
Does he know Solas is dead? I’m not volunteering that information either.
“I need the medicine. Two a month. He won’t notice.”
I step closer, tone sharp and cold.
“No way.”
He backs off, rounding the van.
“If you’re tied to Fedor, I’m out. It’s a death wish. Forget it.”
Not happening.
“Wait!”
I raise my voice just as he grabs the handle of the driver’s door.
“Name anything. I’ll give you whatever you want.”
“Are you deaf?” His voice rises. “I said I’m not getting involved in this shit. Fedor’ll kill me, and don’t think he won’t come for you, too.”
Oh, I know.
Another car pulls into the lot before I can respond. All three of us turn, instinctively following the headlights.
“Shit,” Vlad curses under his breath. “Get in the back. Now!”
He snaps in Russian, and somehow, I know better than to question it.
I shove Diana ahead of me toward the van’s back doors. She climbs in fast, crawling between boxes, and I follow right after, slamming the door shut behind us.
Darkness swallows us whole.
And a freezing chill creeps over my skin like a damn curse.
“It’s freezing in here!” Diana shrieks, grabbing my arm and hugging it tightly, searching for warmth. Her thin Konfetki t-shirt—meant to keep her from sweating while she runs around helping me—was never made for fridge-level cold.
I wrap my arms around her, rubbing her bare skin to warm her up. “Be quiet. We can’t get caught,” I whisper.
My heart pounds wildly when I hear footsteps outside.
We won’t die today. We won’t fail.
She nods into my shoulder, burying her face in it. She’s shaking.
We have to get out of here—fast.
Despite the chill clawing at my spine, I lean forward a little, trying to hear what’s happening outside. A buzzing sound vibrates from a metal storage box beside Diana, humming in bursts—blocking out the voices every time it kicks in.
But then—
“This is Ivan,” a voice says in Russian when the buzz cuts off. “He’ll get part of our product monthly.”
I bite my lower lip hard. Shit.
It’s my father.
He’s here.
With Ivan.
Please, God.
Don’t let them open the van.
Don’t let them see us.
I press my forehead to the cold surface of the box in front of me, praying Vlad is scared enough of my father and Ivan to keep his mouth shut—to protect his own skin and not let them find us in here.
The buzzing kicks in again, muffling the next few words.
I shift and gently peel Diana off me. “I need to get closer to the door and hear what they’re saying. Stay here, behind these boxes,” I whisper.
She nods, lifting her phone and flicking the light over the narrow space. Her lips are purple now.
I crawl toward the back doors carefully, trying to stay silent.
“Ror.”
Diana’s sudden whisper sounds more like a gasp.
I whip my head around to glare at her—to tell her to shut up—but then I see it. And my breath catches.
Rows of glass vials glint inside the open refrigerator next to her. My medicine.
Stacked. Dozens of them. Stored like they mean nothing.
God. They’ve been hoarding this much?
And he still acts like it’s rare.
I stare, rage boiling up in my throat.
I fucking hate him.
I press a hand to my stomach, steadying the rising nausea—because it’s not just hate, not anymore. It’s disbelief. It’s knowing that every needle, every plea, every moment I begged for relief was a performance to them.
And now I’m here. Hiding like some broken thing while they line their pockets with my pain.
No more.