Chapter 11 - Wyatt
Even if I’m trying to maintain as much confidence in myself as I can, I’m still on edge as the days crawl by.
With Elena by my side, it feels more like everyone in this city is waiting for their moment to strike.
Everywhere I look, there could be someone waiting to take her.
To get her back, or to use her as they see fit.
So I take her everywhere.
To work, meetings, even simple errands that could easily be done alone, but aren’t. Letting her out of my sight feels like tempting fate, and that isn’t something I’m willing to risk.
This is supposed to be a strategy. Risk management. But somewhere along the way, it has become something else. Something I’m still not willing to put a name to.
When I’m not keeping an eye out for someone trying to interfere, I notice the rhythm of her presence.
The way she walks a half step behind me, even if she occasionally speeds up like she subconsciously wants to walk ahead, or how she anticipates my movements, more like she’s learning my habits just by proximity alone.
She asks fewer questions now, but all of them are direct. Sharp.
She’s adapting fast. Almost too fast, as if this whole thing isn’t as far outside her norm as either of us assumes.
I’ve always had a general sense of paranoia ever since I found out I was being framed by Vito back in the day, and using it to my advantage has kept me alive so far.
But even as time passes without any run-ins from the never-ending list of people who want me dead, I don’t relax.
Every mirror gets checked twice. Every suspicious car makes me circle the block again.
At the very least, my concealed identity is still holding, and apparently, Elena’s is too.
But even if the Lukovs, the Grimaldis, or the Balakins aren’t in my rearview yet, I know how this works.
Silence doesn’t mean safety. It can be just as loaded and dangerous as a shootout itself. It just means that they’re planning and deciding the best way to execute those ideas.
Regardless, the days start to blur together with an unsettling kind of normalcy.
Elena drinks coffee behind my desk like it’s hers, sits in on meetings quietly, even if she doesn’t really understand what’s going on, and she glares at me when I make decisions without consulting her, regardless of how small.
She also rolls her eyes when I ask her opinion.
It would be easy to let myself dwell on how smoothly she has integrated into my life, so I don’t. Because I can’t. It’s a slippery slope I won’t tempt myself with.
Which is why I decided on a distraction after work one evening. Something I highly doubt she’d ever argue with.
Shopping.
“Shopping?” Elena asks, lifting a brow at me like it’s the last thing she ever expects to hear from me.
Sure, I didn’t expect to hear myself suggesting it either, but after I spent at least five minutes watching her stand by the window with her arms folded, looking far too restless, it hit me.
Of course, those not-so-subtle demands she laid out for me the other night were lingering in the back of my mind, too. And here we are.
“Yes. You need clothes,” I tell her, grabbing my phone and keys from the desk. “You’ve been rotating the same three outfits, and they’re so subtle it’s almost defeating the purpose.”
“I’m in disguise,” she says flatly, being strangely resistant about this despite how she normally comes across with a refined arrogance that can only come from being surrounded by nice things. “Subtle is the point.”
I give her a pointed look. “You hate them.”
Elena opens her mouth to argue, then she stops. After a beat, she glances down at herself and sighs, admitting reluctantly, “I do.”
“So, we’re going to fix that,” I offer, moving closer to the door.
Her suspicion settles in. “What’s the catch?”
“There’s no catch.”
Of course, her eyes narrow, instincts sharpening. “That can’t be true.”
“Well, it is. Call it a concession,” I offer, leaning against the doorway.
Elena pauses, and disbelief stitches into her features. “What, are you trying to prove you can be accommodating or something?”
“Sure. Something like that,” I say, gesturing towards the hallway. “Either way, the metaphorical bus is leaving.”
She studies me for another long moment, then exhales and heads for the door, chin raised. “Fine. But I’m choosing then.”
“As long as it doesn’t get you recognized, I don’t care what you pick.”
Looking more satisfied now, Elena moves down the hall with me, leaving the office like she’s clocking out.
“You know,” she says as we reach the parking garage, adjusting her disguise. “If this whole thing goes south, I could probably disappear pretty effectively.”
I glance at her as I unlock the car, my expression more scathing than necessary. “Don’t get any ideas.”
Elena smiles innocently before getting in. “It’s just an observation.”
It seems she’s grown comfortable enough now to both tease me and push her luck, and in response, I huff out a breath and get in.
The streets are just as busy as usual while I take us to one of the nearby malls, but when we’re halfway there, I change course, heading towards a familiar neighborhood instead.
Of course, she notices and glances at me, letting the faintest hint of concern cross her features. “Where are we going?”
“I have a quick stop to make,” I murmur, taking a left.
I feel her shoulders tense. “Wyatt—”
“It’s nothing to be alarmed about. It’ll take five minutes.”
Elena maintains her resistance for another moment, then she sighs, obviously bracing herself for something unpleasant. Still, she doesn’t argue.
Patch’s house is modest yet nice, nestled in a neighborhood that’s both safe and doesn’t scream wealth. The lawns are manicured, there are kids’ bikes everywhere, and it’s normal enough to raise a little one comfortably.
Parking out front where balloons are tied to the mailbox, I kill the engine and grab a wrapped box from behind my seat.
Elena watches my every movement, zeroing in on the gift. “What’s that?”
“A present.”
“For who?”
“My godson,” I say simply, giving it a subtle jostle. “It’s his birthday today...hence the balloons.”
She blinks at me, then takes in the evident birthday party underway in the backyard, with several kids running around and laughing together. “You have a godson.”
“I do.”
Her disbelief hits tenfold, almost like she’s resisting the urge to let her jaw drop. “You go to birthday parties?”
“Occasionally,” I muse, lips pulling faintly. “To drop off gifts, at least.”
Elena stares at me like I’ve managed to grow a couple more heads in the last ten seconds, and maybe I should be somewhat offended that she assumed something like this is beneath me, but more than anything, her stunned look is amusing.
“The more you know,” she murmurs before getting out herself, following me.
As we move, I catch her scanning the streets automatically. Good.
The front door opens before I even have the chance to knock, and Patch is there, wearing a pleased grin. “It’s about time.”
“Nice to see you too,” I say, lacking any real heat as I hand him the box. “Hope you’re taking advantage of your day off.”
“A day full of shouting kids coasting on a perpetual sugar high? Wouldn’t trade it for anything,” he returns, and even if his tone is a joking one, I know he means it. He takes the gift, somehow making it look much smaller in his grasp, and his smile softens slightly. “You didn’t have to.”
“Of course I did,” I reply, well aware I wouldn’t have missed the opportunity. “I can’t have Parker think I’m losing my touch.”
“Fair enough. You’ve backed yourself into a corner by spoiling him from day one,” he returns, glancing to Elena. He gives her a respectful nod. “Elena.”
Elena has seen Patch a handful of times between meetings, and even now, she still has the slight look in her eyes like she can’t believe just how massive a man Patch is. Apparently, he’s always been that way—built like a tank. Which makes him perfect for the job.
Regardless, she nods in return, as smooth as ever. “Patch. I didn’t think you were the type to throw birthday parties.”
His grin widens a touch, and he absently runs a hand over his buzzed hair that looks more like a shadow across his head. “A few years ago, I thought the same. Kids change people.”
“Apparently.”
Then, he steps aside and gestures with his free hand. “Come in. The birthday brat would like to see you.”
Without hesitation, we enter, immediately greeted by the smell of icing sugar and coffee. A moment later, the patio door across the space slides open, and Parker runs in, barreling over with a wide grin.
His hair is dark, just like his dad’s, and his eyes are the same crystal blue, just full of more wonder. He’s sporting a few new bandages across his knees and arms, evidence of a childhood well spent outside.
“Uncle Vic!” Parker calls, panting as he stands in front of me, smiling without a single care in the world.
The name makes me wince internally, reminding me of the fact that he doesn’t know my real one, but I don’t correct him. It’s better this way.
“Hey buddy,” I say with a smile of my own, crouching low enough as he launches himself at me. I haul him up, lifting him with ease. “You get a year older on me, and suddenly you’re twice the size?”
Parker chuckles to himself. “Dad says I’m gonna be taller than you soon.”
Patch snorts, but his warm smile stays. “He turns six and develops a new imagination.”
“If you get taller than me, then I’ll be impressed. But if you end up taller than your dad, then he might be out of a job.”
At that, he laughs, eyes gleaming with unbridled joy that’s always contagious.
Amused by his easy attitude, I set him down carefully and ruffle his soft hair. “You behaving?”
“Mostly,” he says proudly, chin lifted, revealing a yellow-green bruise under his jaw. He’s always been a bit of a daredevil, always making his dad worry.
“Another tall tale,” Patch mutters with a slight shake of his head.
This only makes Parker laugh again, and we join in before heading further inside to get a look at the party unfolding.
Elena follows a bit stiffly, offering the kids smiles when they look at her, but when they return to their games, she seems almost startled.
As Parker joins the others, running around and playing in the backyard, we talk for a few minutes.
It’s nothing heavy, just party logistics, school, and whatever else comes to mind.
Even if Patch looks exhausted from keeping up with everything, there’s a warmth in his expression, and an undeniable fondness.
He’s a force to be reckoned with when things get serious, but when it comes to his kid, Patch is impossibly soft. He doesn’t show just anyone that tenderness, but Parker brings it out effortlessly.
After wishing him a happy birthday and saying our goodbyes, we finally head out again, and Elena is noticeably quieter than usual.
We roll back into traffic, merging back into the heart of the city again.
After a long moment of silence, her voice cuts through the quiet. “That was…unexpected.”
“Which part?” I ask as I pull into the mall parking lot.
“All of it,” she murmurs. “You act like some criminal mastermind one minute, then the next you’re…you’re feeding stray cats and giving gifts to small children.”
I glance at her once I put the car in park and turn the engine off again. “What, disappointed I’m not some evil character?”
“No,” she admits, sounding surprisingly sincere. “I’m just confused.”
“That’s fair.”
“You know a lot about their lives,” Elena continues, almost like she’s pulling back the curtain on me, whether I like it or not. Maybe she’s finally seeing there’s more to me than strategy and killing. “Patch and his son. Their routines. I assumed everything between you was strictly business.”
“I keep tabs on people I care about,” I tell her, finding a strange satisfaction in this moment as everything unravels for her. “Parker’s mom walked out on them when he was only two. Patch has been doing it alone, so I do what I can to help. It’s what people do.”
She studies me again. “It is. But, is it caring or monitoring?”
“Both. They’re not mutually exclusive.”
Her eyes linger on me, still in disbelief. “You don’t have to do it.”
“I know I don’t.”
“But you do it anyway.”
I nod. “I do. And that won’t change.”
That silence stretches between us, settling within the car. Though it’s thoughtful rather than tense.
Finally, Elena takes a breath, relaxing her shoulders a bit. “You aren’t what I expected.”
“I can’t say I’m surprised,” I murmur, pocketing my keys before looking at her again. “So do you still want to shop, or are you too rattled about this new revelation?”
With a huffed breath, her lips pull into a reluctant smile. “Yeah, yeah…let’s go.”
Getting out of the car now, we head for the entrance, and throughout that short journey, I catch her watching me. Looking at me differently.
She’s still cautious, of course, but there’s a sort of curiosity beneath it now. A reconsideration, even.
I don’t need her approval, but somehow, it feels like she’s starting to see me as something more than a villain in her story.
That’s dangerous too.
With an evening of something different ahead of us, I let myself savor the strangely familiar weight of her presence next to me, regardless of how reckless it might be.
I’m still a ghost in all the ways that count, but with Elena, I have someone attached to me.
She’s doing this out of no choice of her own, and yet, it’s getting increasingly harder to imagine letting her go.