Chapter 46 Roran
Roran
Malec brought too many of his men with us. I’m not sure if it’s because he doesn’t trust me and my plan, or because he has bigger plans of his own.
But as long as we get what we came for, I guess he’ll follow through.
He keeps staring at me through the rearview mirror from the passenger seat, and my pulse spikes every time I accidentally meet those gem-like eyes.
It’s the middle of the night, and I’m grateful—for whatever reason—that he just went for it without stalling. We didn’t waste time.
The night lights blur past like brushstrokes as Pedro presses the gas, overtaking cars like they’re invisible and the road belongs to his family.
But then again, my family’s no better when it comes to the law.
I just rest my head against the window, fighting the urge to cover my face with my hands because I can feel his laser focus on it.
I wish I could understand what he’s thinking. I can’t predict his next move.
Hell, I can’t even recognize my own anymore.
Old Roran would never have dared say a word out of line in front of her father—let alone talk to his enemy and hand them a path to ruin him.
Who is this girl and where did she come from? God only knows.
But this girl—this Roran—here is Diana’s last hope. And that's all that matters to me.
I’m going to do some crazy shit tonight, and for that, I need to bring the mask back. The one that fakes smiles, never cracks, never betrays emotion, and plays the kind of game no man ever says no to.
I inhale deeply, eyes still fixed on the outside. Then I exhale the panic bubbling in my chest.
Why am I so scared to show him this side of me?
It’s like he’s about to cut open an old wound I swore I’d never let anyone see—especially not him. Not when he can read things too easily. Not when he’ll see just how cheap it all can look. And if he suspects the truth I told him... if he hears what’s going on in there or sees a glimpse of it—
Please, God. Be with me tonight. Let me save Diana.
No. Let him trust me to save Diana.
I straighten up quickly, holding my breath when I see the familiar bar street appear.
“Don’t go straight to the main entrance. They’ve got CCTV. They might recognize your car. Turn left here,” I say, leaning forward behind Pedro’s seat and pointing at a dark alley.
He glances at Malec before twisting the wheel.
“Now turn off the high beams. Luxury cars here will make people talk before we’re even inside.”
I stay focused on the road ahead, but I can still feel Malec’s gaze still boring into me. I become aware of my every blink, every breath, every tiny shift—because that’s where I can feel his attention going.
I feel so small under that gaze.
“Slow down here,” I say softly, as if someone outside might hear. “Now turn here and park at the end of the alley.”
I lean back. We’re here.
Pedro follows the directions and cuts the lights before turning off the engine. He’s careful. And he’s paying attention.
Good.
He wouldn’t be a Spallo if he weren’t.
My heart is pounding now as the familiar back door to Konfetki comes into view through my window.
I can do this. I have to.
“Pedro,” Malec says, finally breaking the silence. Thank God. That drive was more nerve-wracking than when he kidnapped me. Back then, I didn’t even care—I just needed out.
“You stay here. No car lights. No engine. I’ll let you know when we’re ready to move,” Malec orders.
Pedro takes his hand off the wheel and slaps Malec’s shoulder. “You better make her plan work. I really don’t want to be the one to tell your father you messed up.”
I can’t tell if it’s a joke or a threat.
“It’ll work,” I say quietly. It has to.
The click of the car doors unlocking makes me act fast—I push mine open and jump out, pulling the rubber hair tie off my wrist to tie my hair into a tight ponytail.
I scan the alley. Clear. Then I lean back into the car through my open door, looking for Malec’s eyes for the first time since the drive started.
“Quick. I’ll show you where I need you.” I whisper this time, and thank God again that he doesn’t ask anything. He just steps out and joins me on my side.
I close the door quietly and press a finger to my lips.
He nods.
I move quickly, stretching up to tilt the stupid ceramic frog sign on the wall next to the door, revealing the keys behind it.
Safest hiding spot? Definitely not. But it’s easier for the girls to come and go quietly without leaving a trace.
I unlock the door fast, and instead of handing him one of the two keys like a normal person, I do something very stupid: I reach for his jeans pocket and shove the key inside.
His jeans pocket.
His very tight jeans pocket.
When I pull my fingers back, I’m hit with his clenched jaw and sharp gaze.
Shit.
I mouth a silent sorry with my hands clasped together and quickly slip inside the old building, heading toward the stairs that lead to the dressing rooms, shoving the other key into my pocket.
I pause for half a second to check he’s following, then keep going down—
Until I hear voices.
Men voices.
Shit.
I rush back up toward Malec, and he—like he expected this to happen—raises an eyebrow.
“That wasn’t part of your plan inside?” His voice is a whisper echoed around us.
I freeze and shake my head. They never send guards back here.
He exhales, rolls his neck from side to side like he’s getting ready for a workout.
“Leave it to me.”
He starts down the stairs.
“Wait!” I grab his arm instinctively.
He jerks back like my touch burned him—just like he did in the parking lot earlier.
Did I do something wrong?
Before he can go further, I lean in and whisper right into his ear, “You can’t kill them. They’ll know we were here.”
“As I said—leave it to me. Stay here.”
My heart pounds louder with every step he takes down. I heard multiple voices—how the hell is he going to handle it alone? I think I need to go back and call Pedro.
My thought spiral as I bury my face in my hands, praying to anyone who could hear me right now to make tonight’s plan work. Again.
His footsteps sound finally stop. And the next thing I hear is curses in Russian—just for a second—before I hear… choking sounds?
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Is he okay?
No, is he killing them?
Fuck, this will lead my father right here. To me.
I don’t even think—I bolt down the stairs, and just before the last step, I hear loud thuds.
Something fell.
I jump the last step, panicked, only to meet Malec standing calmly over four bodies, as if this is just another Tuesday.
I feel dizzy. If not for the adrenaline running through my body, I think I might’ve vomited all over the floor.
“You said you wouldn’t kill them!” I should’ve whispered, but we’re already four bodies past that point.
He shrugs. “I never said that.”
My nostrils flare—
“But I didn’t kill them either. They’re unconscious. Which means you need to move fast,” he adds before I can explode.
I force myself to look. One of them—the bar guard I now recognize—is still breathing.
Again—Thank you, God. or Malec. But also—how the hell did he take all of them down at once?
Maybe my father wasn’t wrong to be afraid of them.
“This door,” I say, stepping toward the one behind him. I skip over a body, but accidentally step on a hand.
“That’s gonna leave a worse mark than what I did,” Malec taunts, and I can hear him holding his laugh.
I shake my head and file that for another day, opening the corridor that leads to the dressing rooms.
“Close the door behind you, just in case,” I say.
Now he actually snorts. “You think a closed door will hide four unconscious bodies?”
“Get. In.” I grit through a tight smile.
“I still think you’re the worst spy I’ve ever met—but let’s do this, 007.” He walks past me into the hallway. His grin makes me regret bringing him here.
But at least we’re in.
I catch up fast and spot the door labeled Tatiana.
“You stand here,” I tell him, pointing to a spot on the floor. “Cross your arms and act like a bodyguard. If anyone asks, you’re escorting Tatiana to the VIP.”
He frowns, but I wave him into place and open the door.
Shit.
“Tatiana, what are you doing here?”
She turns, eyes wide, then narrowing just as fast beneath a purple wig.
“What am I doing here? Where the fuck have you been?” she spits, heels clicking toward me.
“Shh! Please,” I wave my hands. “Please, Tatiana. Let me explain.”
She stops. “You’ve got thirty seconds.”
I take a breath.
How the hell do I explain this? She wasn’t even supposed to be here tonight, I planned on taking her place.
“Well?”
“Someone kidnapped Diana.”
Her eyes go wide. “One of the clients!?”
I shake my head. “Fedor’s men. They’re hiding her. I’ve been trying to find her. The only one who knows where she might be is Novax.”
That name nearly knocks her off her heels.
“Roran, he works for Fedor. He’ll kill you if he finds out. And Novax won’t stay quiet.”
“I have people here. Please. Help me sneak into his room tonight.”
I’m begging. Literally begging.
She looks like a storm is swirling inside her for a moment, then exhales. “Fine. But not dressed like that. You look like a damn cleaner. Sit.”
She pushes me into her pink leather chair.
“I thought I could take one of your—uh—drops,” I mutter.
She rolls her eyes. “Even if I let you, you wouldn’t get anything out of him looking like this. I’m going to fix you, and then I’ll tell you exactly what to do. He’s got a new kink going on. That’s how I took him from Natasha.”
Wait—she what? I gasp.
Novax actually picked her over Natasha?
That has to be one hell of a kink if he took Tatiana instead.
“Okay. What do I do?”
She wasn’t in the plan.
But maybe… maybe God did listen.