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I pace the sidewalk until my feet carve a rut into it. Waiting for any sign of what’s happening. Fighting the image of Gio disappearing into the house, gun drawn and ready. He gives the all-clear, and I step inside and gasp. The destruction is devastating. Furniture overturned, papers strewn everywhere, and worst of all—my mother’s portrait lies shattered on the floor.
I sink to my knees before it, tears streaming down my face. Out of everything they destroyed, this makes me want to curl up beside it and wail like a banshee. Whoever did this wanted to plunge the knife in and twist. They planned to rip my heart out, and they did. Because it’s lying beside my mother, bleeding out.
Gio’s strong arms wrap around me, offering desperately needed warmth as the violation chills me to my bones. Once radiant and comforting, my mother’s smile now lies in jagged pieces on the cold floor.
“They knew,” I whisper, my voice cracking. “They knew this would hurt the most.”
Gio’s grip tightens, his breath warm against my ear. “I’m so sorry, Jeniah. We’ll find who did this.”
I turn in his arms, burying my face against his chest. The scent of his cologne mingles with the acrid smell of destruction,grounding me in this surreal moment. “What do we do now?” I ask, hating how small and lost I sound.
He pulls back, cupping my face in his hands. His dark eyes, usually so guarded, now brim with anger and determination. “You can’t stay here tonight. It’s not safe.”
“Where can I go? I don’t have anyone else. This is my home. Was my home.”
Gio’s jaw tightens. “My suite at the Sindicate Towers. You’ll be safe there while I sort this out.” He softens, his thumb gently wipes away a tear I didn’t realize had fallen. “I know it’s a lot. But right now, that’s the best option.”
I look around at the wreckage of my home, my sanctuary. Every overturned piece of furniture, every shattered memento, screams that this place is no longer mine. No longer safe. I meet Gio’s gaze, seeing not just the charming man from dinner but glimpses of someone far more dangerous—danger he’ll use to protect me.
“Okay,” I whisper, nodding slowly.
I take one last look at my broken home as we leave. The place I grew up in is now a trove of ruined things. My heart aches, but I know I can’t stay. Atlas arrived with some men, but Gio didn’t introduce us. Instead, he assures me he’ll return it to normal.
Gio’s hand finds mine and gives it a gentle squeeze, entwining our pinkies. He’s trying to comfort me—but we both know things will never benormalagain.
Gio
The glass doors of Sindicate Towers part silently, revealing a doorman in a crisp black uniform, silver buttons gleaming under the soft lobby lights. His practiced smile falters for a heartbeat as he takes in the sight before him—me, stone-faced, and Jeniah, a trembling mess, clutching Milo’s carrier like a lifeline.
“Good evening, Mr. Gataki,” he says, his eyes darting between us. I jerk a nod, my mind too preoccupied to dig up his name. It doesn’t matter. Sindicate Towers pays their employees buckets of money to forget what they see and remember only what’s necessary.
I guide Jeniah past him, my hand hovering at the small of her back, not quite touching. The carrier swings in her white-knuckled grip. Milo mewls and scratches the silence between us. I can’t tell if it’s rage or terror that has her shaking, her jaw clenched so tight I swear I can hear her teeth grinding.
But she’s here. She’s safe. And right now, that’s the only fucking thing that matters.
I guide Jeniah across the marble-floored lobby towards the private elevators. With each step, her body tenses. I half expecther to bolt. The elevator arrives with a soft ding, its mirrored walls and brass fixtures gleaming an invitation.
As we step inside, Jeniah clutches Milo’s carrier closer. She gnaws on her lip as I press the button for my suite. The doors slide shut, sealing us in. Jeniah’s eyes dart around, probably searching for an escape that doesn’t exist. Finally, Jeniah’s whisper breaks the silence. “Why are you doing this? What do you get out of it?”
I meet her gaze in the mirror. “Because my family asked me to.” It’s the truth, but those words carry decades of guilt.
The elevator glides to a stop. As the doors open, Jeniah’s eyes widen at seeing dark leather furniture and priceless art. Cousin Cora’s idea of decor screams money. It’s not my style—I prefer understated beauty, like Jeniah’s. But when you tell a decorator money’s no object, then every object reflects money.
“Welcome to your new home,” I say, gesturing for her to enter. Her gaze flickers over the sleek furnishings and the floor-to-ceiling glass windows that frame Chicago’s skyline. It’s too dark to see the lake—which is the best part of the suite. When I’m homesick, I stand on the balcony, enjoy the waves churning into foam, and pretend I’m home with the sea wind blowing on my face.
Jeniah’s lips round and part as she turns in a circle, taking it all end. The snow outside has settled, creating an unforgiving layer of frost on the city roads. Enjoyable only from our safe, warm perch, far from their hazards.
“You live here?”
“When I’m in town. My family owns all the suites on this floor.Atlas’ suite is at the opposite end.” Why did I add that? She won’t be visiting him.Hell no.
Jeniah steps into the room, her boots leaving damp prints on the marble. She takes in the view. The city moves below us, slow, distant, like we’re untouchable. “It’s very… I don’t know what to say.” Her plump lip quirks up. “Nice, doesn’t cut it.”
“It’ll do,” I say, shrugging. I try to see the suite through her eyes, but instead, I find myself looking into them. Instantly, I feel like the elevator doors opened, and I’m plunging through the shaft.
Falling.
Jeniah sets Milo’s carrier down, her movements slow and deliberate. The cat emerges, stretching before padding towards the leather couch. He rubs his chin along the edge, marking his territory. I catch his eye and glare. Daring him to scratch the expensive furniture.
