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He threw himself off the edge of one of the buildings before they could, dying on impact.
Nowthatis a freaking professional.
For now, Kir’s house is where Annika and I are going to stay, for our own safety. Kir’s got a penthouse in Manhattan that he’s already told us is going to be ours to lie low in until they can assess what the threat tonight was. But that penthouse is still being secured. In the meantime, this is where we’ll be locked down.
But even here, surrounded by all Kir’s protection, I don’t feel safe.
Because of Mal.
He knows what I saw.
He knowswho I am.
And now, all I can think of are Sota’s earlier words, when he was telling me how he had his own person who was “good with computers, technology, and gaining information.”
Mal.
Who knows my name.
How to dig for information someone’s trying to hide.
Good god, what else is he going to find out?
I close my eyes, willing myself to relax. But all I can see is the look in his eyes when he said my fake name. A knowing look. Like he’s been watching from the shadows all along.
The sound of footsteps pulls me from my thoughts, and I open my eyes just as Annika steps into the room. She looks like hell—her usual sharp, confident demeanor dulled by the events of the night. Her long red hair is loose now, tangled and unkempt, and her eyes are wide and dazed.
She collapses onto the couch across from me, running a hand through her hair. “I can’t believe any of it,” she mutters, her voice thick. “An assassination attempt? Atmyengagement party?” She huffs and feigns disgust.
Sarcasm as a defense mechanism is part of who Annika is. She’s always been the strong one—the one who handles everything with cool detachment and, yes, maybe a bitter joke.
But tonight it’s different. The cracks in her armor are starting to show.
“It was almost bound to happen sooner or later,” I say quietly, leaning forward in my chair. “You’re marrying Kenzo Mori, girl. There are people who don’t want that.”
Annika scoffs, though it lacks her usual bite. “As ifIwant that.”
She goes silent for a long moment, staring vacantly at the floor. When she finally speaks again, her voice is softer than I’ve heard it recently.
“You know it’s not just about what I want, Frey. If I don’t marry Kenzo, there’ll be a war. The Bratva and the Yakuza will tear each other apart, and Damian...”
Her voice breaks slightly, and her eyes flicker with something unspoken, something she’s not ready to admit. For a moment, I see the cracks in her armor widen, see the vulnerability she hides so carefully. Then just as quickly, she shuts it down. Her shoulders stiffen, her expression hardens.
“It doesn’t matter,” she says firmly. “It’s been decided. I’ll marry Kenzo, and we’ll keep the peace. It’s done.”
I watch her for a moment longer, wanting to press the issue, but knowing better. Annika’s fiercely independent. Always has been. She won’t open up until she’s ready, and right now, she’s not.
I let out a soft sigh, leaning back in my chair. “Well, I guess that’s that, then.”
Annika lets out a humorless laugh, sinking further into the couch. “Yup. That’s…that.”
We sit in silence for a while, the weight of everything settling between us. I want to comfort her, to tell her that everything will be okay, but the truth is, I don’t know if that’s true. The Bratva and the Yakuza have been on the verge of war for some timenow, and Annika’s marriage to Kenzo is just a Band-Aid over a gaping wound.
After a while, Annika stands, running a hand through her hair again. “Sorry, I’m shit company right now. I’m going to go to bed. I need to shut off my brain for a while.”
I nod and she leaves the room, her shoulders slumped with exhaustion. The door closes behind her, and I’m left in the silence once again, alone with my thoughts ofhim.
I’ve basically been stayingin a non-stop rotation of boutique hotels since Annika and I landed in New York a few months ago. But I do have a room here at Kir’s place, and that’s where I retire to a few hours later.
