Chapter 21
Sophie
The balcony door was closed, just as Kian had instructed, though I wished it weren’t. Beyond the thick pane of glass, the sea waited—restless and insistent—and I imagined the waves folding over themselves against the shoreline, the sound low and rhythmic enough to pull me under.
I would have preferred that to the way the silence of the room pressed in once the lights were out.
Above me, the ceiling fan turned in a lazy circle, its soft hum a comfort as warm air brushed my skin with each pass.
Sleep refused to come after the conversation I’d just had with Kian, my mind replaying his words and the last three months on an endless loop.
Since I left home, I’d been in motion with suitcases, unfamiliar beds, and foreign towns.
At first, I’d missed the ordinary things with an ache that surprised me.
The predictability of my old routine. Coffee with my cousin.
Gemma’s laughter, her kids, and the dependability of a job that felt rewarding with each first cry of a newborn.
I’d thought distance might dull that longing, but it sharpened it instead, carving out space for memories I hadn’t realized were holding me together.
This town in Albania had held me longer than anywhere else, its pale stone buildings and narrow roads clinging to the coast as if afraid of the water below.
Each morning, the sea looked different, changing color with the light, but I remained the same: suspended, unsettled, waiting for something to break, or maybe for something to just happen.
And now there was Kian, offering me something dangerously familiar—a version of the life I’d had before Jonathan’s death, before grief rearranged everything, before I’d become entangled in Jonathan’s mess.
Lying there in the dark, I wondered whether Kian’s offer would bring me peace or a way to lose myself completely.
I knew sleep wouldn’t find me, so I slid out of bed and went in search of my phone, finding it discarded on the coffee table.
Scrolling through my contacts, my thumb slowed and then stopped over Violet’s name, but then I glanced at the time and decided against it.
Instead, I pulled up Kristoff’s name. I stared at it, letting a beat pass.
Then another. The screen dimmed, as if even my phone was growing impatient with my hesitation.
I took a breath in, held it, and finally pressed the call button.
He answered on the second ring.
“Soph, are you okay?”
The nickname landed heavier than it should have. Only two people in the world had ever called me that—my cousin, and later Jonathan. I’d never minded it before, had even found comfort in the familiarity.
But now it tugged at something raw, and for a brief, irrational moment, I wondered why Jonathan hadn’t come up with a new nickname, something that belonged only to us. Kind of like Kian with zemer.
“Soph?” Kristoff repeated, reminding me that I’d been the one to call.
“Hey.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, squeezing my eyes shut as if my thoughts might finally stop spiraling. I pushed away the comparison—Jonathan and Kian were nothing alike. Not even close.
“Kian told me he…” My voice faltered, the words refusing to line up. Guilt pressed against my chest, thick and suffocating. “I’m so sorry, Kristoff,” I blurted. “I wouldn’t blame you if you and Gemma never wanted to see me again. I’m so—”
“Hey. Hey… Stop and listen to me now.” His voice sharpened, cutting through my apology. “You have nothing to apologize for. This is on Jacqueline. That spiteful, crazy bitch.”
His bluntness surprised me, but it didn’t ease the knot in my throat.
“But if I hadn’t insisted on uncovering what really happened to Jonathan,” I croaked, the words tasting wrong even as I said them, “she wouldn’t have taken Sienna.”
I sat on the floor, its hardwood cool against my skin.
“And if I hadn’t married her before my deployment,” he shot back, just as quickly, “she wouldn’t be in our lives at all.
” He exhaled hard, the sound rough in my ear.
“We could go round and round like this forever, Soph. But I can promise you, you’re the least to blame here.
This is on me, on Jonathan, and mostly on Jacqueline. ”
I stared at the far wall, its edges blurring as my eyes burned. His logic made sense. I knew that. I just couldn’t make my heart accept it.
“Then why can’t I shake off this feeling of guilt?” I asked, forcing a brittle laugh out. “No matter what I tell myself, it’s still there.”
“Because you’re compassionate and you love Sienna,” he stated matter-of-factly. “I bet Jacqueline isn’t losing sleep over her actions toward you or even the fact that she murdered Jonathan.”
“So you believe me?”
“I do. There’d be no reason for her to threaten you and hurt my kid otherwise. I’m in contact with the authorities, but for some godforsaken reason they’re dragging their feet. But she will pay.”
I swallowed. “Kian said he’s hunting her down.”
“Yes.” My cousin never lied.
“And you trust him?”
“I do.”
“Do you know who he is?” I asked slowly, a part of me not wanting to betray Kian. Or maybe I was simply protecting myself because I was under his roof. “What he does?”
He chuckled. “I do, but there’s nobody I trust more, which I guess is ironic.”
“So you know…” I trailed off.
“That he’s the head of the Albanian mafia and Brazilian cartel? Yes, I do.”
“Geez, Kristoff,” I muttered. “What kind of friends do you have?”
“The kind that would stop at nothing to protect you.” There wasn’t an ounce of hesitation in his voice.
“Kian Cortes got Autumn Ashford out of Afghanistan,” he continued.
“He’s helped a lot of people who had no other way out.
” He let out a heavy sigh. “I don’t give a crap about the labels or the rumors.
The bottom line is this: he’s a good man. And those are rare these days.”
“So you’re telling me to trust him,” I said slowly.
“Yes, I am. I’m also telling you to stay under his protection until we get Jacqueline behind bars.”
If the man rotting in his dungeon was any indication, Jacqueline’s fate wouldn’t involve a courtroom or a sentence handed down by a judge. It would be private and very, very painful.
We talked a while longer. Eventually, I ended the call and stared at the knots in the hardwood for a moment, letting my cousin’s words settle over me. They didn’t erase the fear, but they dulled the edges enough to subdue it.
Finding a fragile sort of comfort in that, I slipped back into bed. The tension slowly drained from my body, exhaustion crashing over me all at once.