Chapter Twenty-One
The cab dropped us off at Sayer’s apartment and if it wasn’t for Juliet inside, I wouldn’t have gotten out. I would have left and kept going.
Forever.
I wouldn’t have stopped.
But the cruelest joke of all was that my daughter was inside with her father—the liar of all liars.
Cage and Gus had given me a wide berth once it was clear I wasn’t going to engage them, especially when they tried to stick up for Sayer.
I was so sick of their excuses. He’d somehow managed to brainwash both of them. Gus, I understood, since his loyalty went way back. But Cage was new to this world, new to us. He should have been able to see reason.
“Why are you pushing this?” I had demanded on the ride back. “Why are you sticking up for him? Don’t you understand what he did?”
“Men do crazy shit when it comes to protecting their women, Caroline. You have to see that he didn’t think he was trapping you, he thought he was saving you.”
“Bullshit,” I had growled and then refused to speak to him the rest of the cab ride.
The tension in the elevator was so tangible, I felt it crawl over my skin. Gus had been texting nonstop for the last ten minutes and it didn’t take a genius to figure out he was warning Sayer.
I didn’t know what good his warning was going to do though.
There was nothing that could stop this conversation. Nothing that could settle me down or take away this anger.
My entire life had been defined by that night—that one night. I was the person I was today because I’d been tricked into joining the mafia. My choice had been taken away. My future had been stolen from me. My free will had been handed as a gift to three of the evilest men in this world.
And it had all been because of Sayer, the man I was supposed to trust above everyone else.
The ironic thing was that everything had happened this way because the Volkov wanted my talents as a thief. They had Sayer trick me into their service so they could own my skills.
And yet, they already had the most cunning, masterful thief of them all, a thief I couldn’t even begin to compete with.
First, he’d stolen my life.
And my future.
And my morality in all of the wicked deeds I’d been forced to carry out.
Then he’d stolen my heart.
He’d gone to prison and stolen my happiness.
And now he’d stolen whatever was left. My hope and my future and perspective of the world.
But he hadn’t just stolen from me this time. He’d taken from Juliet too.
And I would never forgive him for it.
He was waiting when the elevator doors opened on his floor. His expression was tight, severe, but mysterious all the same.
“Juliet’s sleeping,” he said in a low voice.
“I’ll get her then,” I said, pushing past him into his apartment. “We’re leaving.”
“You can’t leave,” he argued, like I knew he would. “It’s the middle of the night.”
I spun around and faced him, my entire body vibrating with rage. “Don’t tell me what to do. Don’t you dare tell me what to do!”
“Six…”
“Stop!” I shouted, unable to temper my voice or my emotions. “You don’t get to tell me what to do. Not anymore.”
His gaze darkened, his entire body rising to this challenge. “You believe him then? Atticus of all people?”
“Tell me it’s a lie. Tell me you didn’t trick me into the bratva. Tell me you had nothing to do with it. The necklace, the warehouse, the pakhan… any of it.”
His jaw ticked, but he didn’t try to deny anything.
“You didn’t know me,” I cried, hating the tears that fell, the weakness I couldn’t stop. “You had no right to do what you did.”
An expression flashed across his face that I knew all too well. He wanted to argue, he wanted to make his case for why he believed he had the right to do what he did. It made me want to scream.
Frankie rushed into the room from her back bedroom, alarmed and panicked, ready to kill someone. “What happened?”
Sayer stepped back, crossing his arms over his chest. He wasn’t going to tell her apparently. But he wasn’t going to stop me either.
I turned to my best friend, knowing she would remember. Maybe she wouldn’t remember it as vividly as I did, but that night was pretty significant for all of us. “Do you remember the night in the warehouse? When we were ten? Sayer was a big deal because they’d just made him bratva for getting that shipment of Irish guns?”
Frankie’s eyes narrowed. “I remember.”
“Do you remember what happened to me? The pakhan demanding I become bratva too?”
She nodded. “Of course. Even your dad stuck up for you.”
I swung my arm wide, gesturing at Sayer. “He set me up. The whole fucking thing was a setup to get me under the pakhan’s thumb.”
“The necklace?”
“All of it,” I growled. “The bosses wanted me. It was part of Sayer’s initiation. He had to give your uncles a reason to make me bratva, a reason to keep me here.”
Her mouth dropped open, and I found the slightest vindication in her response. At least she hadn’t been in on it.
“I thought you were as good as in already,” Sayer argued. “I met you on a job. You were already working for them.”
My voice was hoarse, strained. I couldn’t calm the rapid beat of my heart or soothe the emotions running wild in my body. This was too much. This was too painful. “I would never have blooded. I only wanted one thing my entire life and that was to get out of this hell hole. And the one reason I found to stay, the one reason, ended up being the man that put me there to begin with.”
His mouth opened and closed, his shoulders slumped. He was broken at this moment, utterly torn apart. And I hated that seeing him so upset still had the power to destroy me.
“Caro, I was thirteen,” he rasped. “My parents had just died… I was looking for a place to belong and I found you.” He shrugged helplessly. His hand reached out to me, hovering in the air as if he expected me to take it. “I had a shitty life until that day. I’d had nothing but bad luck and hard breaks until the day I met you. And it wasn’t because you were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen in my entire life, it was because you gave me hope for the first time ever. And acceptance. And a real fucking chance to make it. You breathed into my death and gave me life for the very first time. The day you were forced to become bratva was the single best day of my life up to that point. It was the day I finally started believing you and I actually had a chance.” His breath shuddered through him. “It was the day I finally started believing my life would be something more than fucked up.”
My heart twisted, wringing itself around and around until it was squeezed to death. Even after everything, even after finding out our entire relationship had been predicated on a lie and that my future had been stripped from my hands, I still loved this man. And seeing him hurt, ache, experiencing any kind of pain was absolute torture.
“You could have asked me.” It was a simple enough statement, but the words carried all of my anger, frustration, and sorrow.
“We were kids, Caroline. I wasn’t trying to take away your choice. I was trying to do the best thing I knew how to do.”
“Make me a criminal?”
He held my gaze. “Take care of you.”
More tears escaped, falling unbidden down my cheeks and soaking my shirt. Oh, how I wanted to believe him, take him at his word. It would have been so easy. I wouldn’t have even had to fight it.
For as paranoid as I had been in the last few weeks, I had based the rest of my life entirely on believing and trusting him. He had always been the one person I could count on, the one man that would take care of me and tell me the truth no matter what.
And now I had to sort through the wreckage of this fallout to find the truth buried in the layers upon layers of lies.
My entire existence had been one constant con. I hadn’t been a love interest, I had been a mark. And my future with Sayer wasn’t a happily ever after, it was a payout.
The thing that hurt the most? The thing that was the absolute worst? I wasn’t even surprised. This was the consequence of falling in love with a con man.
This was what happened when I entrusted my heart to a man that lied for a living.
I believed he loved me. I believed he had always loved me. But it was all predicated on a lie, a trick. Our relationship was the ultimate confidence game and it made my absolutes fade and my convictions twist. It made me doubt everything about him and about me and our feelings for each other.
“Did you even mean any of it?” I whispered. I was certain I was a masochist—to beg for more truth.
I braced myself for his response, for the reality I suspected now that everything was out in the open.
“I meant all of it, Six. Every goddamn second.”
“Then why lie about it?”
He took a step forward, closing the distance between us. “Because I was afraid I’d lose you. It’s always been my biggest fear. And now you’re making me face it a second time.”
His answer hit me like a sucker punch in the gut. The truth didn’t just hurt, it destroyed, it maimed, it wrapped ugly hands around my throat and squeezed. “You knew then. You knew the entire time. Your game had nothing to do with being kids or not knowing better. You knew from the second you went to the pakhan that I didn’t want to be in. And you did it anyway.”
His eyes hardened and softened at once, tightening with emotion and sorrow and a world of regret. “And I would do it again,” he confessed. “I would do it a thousand times if it meant being with you.”
I made a miserable sound and wrapped my arms around my waist in a pathetic attempt at self-comfort. I needed to get out of here. I needed to take Juliet out of this place.
God, I needed a few minutes or the rest of eternity to rest.
When I opened my eyes, he was in front of me, reaching for me again, wrapping me up in the smell of him and the feel of him and the incessant need to always stay near him. His voice was broken with grief and the foresight to know what was coming next. “Don’t leave again, Six. Don’t make me go through this again.”
I held his gaze, finding superhuman strength to keep from falling into his arms. “You shouldn’t have taken away my choice,” I told him firmly. “I would never have picked the bratva. Ever.” I paused long enough to suck in a steadying breath. “But I would have picked you, Sayer.”
His eyes watered over, and it was more than I could take. I fled to his bedroom and slammed the door shut. I locked it behind me and then stacked crap in front of it to ensure no one would enter.
Juliet was a champion sleeper and didn’t even notice my temper tantrum. When I was convinced nobody was going to follow me into the bedroom, I collapsed on the bed with her and pulled her into my body, clinging to her for support and comfort. She smelled like her flowery shampoo and Sayer’s room, and I wanted to throw her in the shower to wash the reminder of him off her.
I trembled as more tears leaked out of my eyes and didn’t stop this time. Curling beneath the blankets I tried to sort through everything that had happened today and in recent days.
I had my daughter back, but if I didn’t start working seriously toward getting the Volkov out of holding before their trial, I was going to lose her. They had my dad and had already threatened to take his hands; who knew what else if I didn’t work faster. The FBI would come after us as soon as they watched the security footage of that sprinkler mishap today. Atticus and the Volkov were already after me. And now the Irish were involved too.
There wasn’t an easy solution to this. I’d pretty much dug myself a gigantic hole and while I was willing to stay in that hole under different circumstances, I had Juliet to think about now. I couldn’t drag her through the graveyard of my mistakes.
I needed a plan. A plan within a plan within a plan.
Nothing like keeping things simple.
And I had to figure out a way for Frankie to come with us. That wasn’t even up for discussion. I would never leave her here with these wolves. I would never make her stay against her will and force her back with the brotherhood.
If she wanted out, she had every freaking right to get out.
Because that should be how it worked. We should get a choice. We should be able to decide for ourselves.
The only problem was I had no idea how to leave. Frankie and I had gotten lucky when we escaped the first time. I realized that now. Nobody had been expecting us to up and disappear. We had been watched and followed and surrounded by protection while we were in DC, but nobody expected us to gather what we needed, drive out of town and never come back.
They did now. And there were several of them we needed to dodge. Including the FBI… It wasn’t going to be easy, but it was necessary.
I would protect my daughter from these thugs. I would do whatever it took to give her a better life.
True, I’d rather stick around town and make sure the end of the bratva happened, that Atticus suffered for what he did to Juliet and what he did to me tonight. I would, however, give that up to get out of this place.
To finally be able to rest and stop running, once and for all.
I cried harder, wetting the pillow beneath me, as I realized for all of my bravado and the five years of separation I’d managed, it was killing me to even think about giving this all up. It wasn’t the thieving I missed or even the thrill of heists. It was Sayer.
He was the beginning and end of all of my thoughts, all of my emotions. He was the reason for everything.
Even now, I felt those truths tremble and shake on their foundation of lies. Would that have been true had I not become bratva? Would Sayer and I have gone in different directions? Would I love someone else? Have a family with someone else? Would I live far away from this psychotic bullshit?
The what ifs were impossible to know. And everything inside me rebelled against the idea of having a family with someone else, with someone that wasn’t Sayer.
How could I even begin to pick up the broken pieces of my heart when they wanted a trick, a con… something that wasn’t even real.
Eventually, I couldn’t think any longer, I couldn’t come up with any more scenarios or solutions. I gave into the sleep tugging at me so relentlessly. I would deal with this in the morning.
I fell asleep dreaming about a little boy with shocking blue eyes and dirty fingers. I dreamed about our first innocent kiss in the warehouse and how relieved I’d been to give him back something he’d considered valuable. I dreamed of our first grown-up kiss and our first time in bed together. I dreamed of how he held my hand and my body throughout the night. I dreamed about all the ways he let me know I was everything to him and the loyalty he’d always kept. I dreamed about finding him again after years apart, and a future with him that I knew was over before it had ever started.
I woke up with fresh tears and a whole lot of regret.
I also woke up with a clear idea of what I wanted to do and how we were going to get out of this.
Sayer may have gotten me into this mess to begin with, but I was going to be the one that finished it.
I was going to get myself out.
And I was never going to look back.