It’s not forgiveness. It’s barely even acknowledgment.
But it’s something.
“Take care of yourself, Nat,” I add softly. “And thank you… for trying to help me when it mattered.”
Then I let Vince guide me out of the hospital, his hand warm and steady at the small of my back.
Another day, another betrayal revealed, another crack in the foundation of who I thought I was.
But at least this time, I’m the one who gets to decide what happens next.
21
VINCE
The phone call comes at 3 A.M.
I’m half-awake already, watching my women sleep. Sofiya’s fist rests against Rowan’s breast, like she’s staking her claim even in slumber. As if I needed proof that she’s my daughter.
Mine.Both of them are mine. They’ve found peace I can’t afford, not in this life. But that doesn’t mean I can’t watch them and breathe just the tiniest bit easier, knowing that my sacrifices help them sleep without nightmares.
But then comes the call.
The phone vibrates against the nightstand. I grab it before the sound can wake them. “Speak,” I answer, voice low as I slip from the bedroom.
Arkady wastes no time. “Kevin Peterson is dead.”
I frown. “That’s impossible. He’s in Costa Rica.”
“Hewasin Costa Rica.” Arkady pauses. “Until someone put three bullets in his head and dumped him in the ocean. Local fishermen found the body this morning.”
I press my fingers to the bridge of my nose, feeling the beginning of a migraine. “Who gave the order?”
“That’s just it, boss. No one knows. It wasn’t one of our people in Costa Rica. They’re as surprised as we are.”
“Blyat’.” I rub my temples.“Get me everything. Security footage, witness statements, autopsy report. I want to know what he ate for breakfast three weeks ago.”
“Copy that.”
I hang up and stare out the window at the pre-dawn darkness. This makes no sense. Kevin Peterson was supposed to be safe. I’d given explicit instructions for him to be relocated, not eliminated.
Someone in my organization has directly defied me.
And it’s not just about one middling former employee. It’s about what I promised Rowan—that I could show mercy, that I could find solutions beyond violence.
Now, I’ll have to tell her I failed.
Before I can process this, my phone rings again. Arkady again. Him calling back that quickly can only be bad.
“Tell me you have better news,” I answer.
“I wish.” His voice is grim. “The financing for the Costa Rica project has fallen through. Completely. The banks have pulled out. All of them.”
I feel my jaw tighten. “Allof them? We had five different institutions backing us.”
“All of them,” he confirms. “Within hours of each other. Like it was coordinated.”
“This isn’t a coincidence,” I growl. “Get to the compound. Bring everything we have on the financing arrangements.”