Page 22 of Velvet Corruption

“Yes.”

“Good,” Tristan said. “Just try not to make it too messy, yeah? Ideally, she disappears somewhere quiet outside the city and never looks back. But you can go as far as you need to.”

I stood, the leather chair groaning beneath me.

For a second, I didn’t move—just let my hand rest on the desk, right where Tristan had placed her file. Like if I stayed still long enough, this might all un-happen.

But it wouldn’t. The order was given. The path was set. And there was no room for no in this family. There never had been.

“I’ll make it happen,” I said.

Tristan put on a satisfied smile. “Good.”

My footsteps echoed as I crossed the study. Slow. Heavy. Every step felt like something closing in. I glanced back once. Tristan hadn’t moved. Still perched behind that desk like a king on a throne, face unreadable, gaze sharp.

That was the Callahan way: calm on the surface, ice in the veins. Handle the threat. Move on.

Even if the threat used to be someone I loved.

The hallway stretched out in front of me, long and quiet. Morning light spilled in through the windows, the twins’ laughter somewhere in the distance, but it didn’t reach me. Not really.

“Keep it together, Kieran,” I muttered.

I leaned against the wall, jaw clenched, eyes closed. For half a breath, I let myself see her. Ruby—that sharp mind, that fire, that way she looked at me like she saw too much.

After my father had died, our relationship had fallen to the wayside. Not because I didn’t care about her; back then, I knew I was falling for her. But she had been working for the DA…and how could I bring her into this?

How could I do that to her?

And now I had to destroy her?

I was going to. I had an assignment and I was going to do it. That didn’t mean I had to like it.

But this meant…well, fuck. It meant I had to call her again.

And I really, really didn’t want to.

Chapter Five: Ruby

Another fucking day campaigning.

That was my first thought after I woke up in the sleek, impersonal house Julian insisted on maintaining for appearances.

We weren’t getting a divorce yet for my sake, but the house was excessive, with the spiral staircase and the ivy on the exterior wall. It screamed ‘we’re thriving,’ even though the only thing thriving here was the mold in the basement Julian refused to deal with.

The white walls and stainless steel surfaces felt as cold as our current relationship. I missed the warmth of our old first apartment together, where every corner held a memory. Here, it was all performative, like a stage set for a play I no longer wanted a part in.

But then there was Rosie, curled up beside me—she often started the night in her bed and her morning in mine—her hair a mess and her face peaceful. She looked so content. My heart ached with love for her and a twinge of resentment for Julian. How could he be so infuriating and yet provide this stability for her, the one thing I couldn’t walk away from? This place might be a facade, but it gave her the comfort and stability a child needed. For that, I was grateful.

I wasn’t grateful for much else.

I slipped out of bed and into the bathroom, tying my hair into a messy bun. The woman in the mirror looked tired, her dark eyes less intense, more weary. I had a long day ahead: a court appearance, a campaign event, and now this meeting with Alek, which he had messaged me about in the middle of the night. Just thinking about it made my shoulders sag.

Why couldn’t he just text me like a normal human?

Oh yeah—he wasn’t normal.

Neither of us were.

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