Page 33 of Velvet Betrayal
I tried not to choke on the words.
“You don’t have to say it like that,” Kieran said.
“Like what? Plainly?” Tristan asked.
Kieran shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. We wouldn’t be here if we had any other options.”
“I’m offended, little brother,” Tristan said. “And a little sad. You know I always help family.”
He wiped his mouth, then patted Rosie on the head—absurdly gentle, like he could transfer safety by touch. “I don’t take this lightly, Ruby. But if you accept my protection, you don’t get to pretend you’re on the outside anymore.” He tapped the table twice, a quiet invocation. “You’re inside.”
“Inside what?”
He gestured, palm open, at the café, the city, the whole world. “This. You’re in the fold now. The only way out is through.”
“I’m the District Attorney. I can’t be inside.”
Tristan considered that for a second. “I understand why you think that,” he said. “I’ll give you some time to get used to it.”
I wanted to hurt him. I settled for stabbing at my eggs again.
He sipped his coffee, eyes never leaving mine. “My offer is simple. I make the Crew problem go away in forty-eight hours. Your name comes off every list, your daughter’s school is untouchable. No strings.”
He let it hang there, flat.
The only tell was the interest hiding behind his eyes.
“No strings,” I echoed.
He shrugged, barely moving. “If you want to clean up Boston, do it. Make your case. But as long as you’re my brother’s, and as long as you’re the mother of that girl—” he glanced at Rosie, who was peeling muffin tops with surgical precision, “—I’ll eat the cost of your stubbornness.”
I hated him. Not because he was evil, or manipulative, or because he’d once tried to bribe me out of the race with a suitcase full of hundreds and flights to Barcelona. I hated him because he was right.
I was inside now, and nothing short of dying—or killing him—would change it.
“Will you do it?” I asked.
Tristan smiled. “Of course. I said forty-eight, but I’ll make it twenty-four.” He slid me a card—matte black, a single number embossed. “If you see even a shadow, call. Someone will answer. Now…now I just need you to tell me everything.”
I frowned. “You said no strings.”
He kept that affable grin on his face, like he knew he’d already won. “It’s not a condition; just a fact,” he said. “If youwant me to take care of whoever’s after you, I need to know what you’ve been up to. What the DOJ knows…all of it.”
“And that’s not a string?”
He chuckled. “That’s family, Ruby,” he said. “Welcome in.”
Kieran
Iwasn’t naïve enough to believe Tristan’s “no strings” line. Neither was Ruby.
Tristan didn’t deal in promises. He banked leverage—cold, quiet, patient—and waited until it stung.
And this? This whole fucking scene? It had been orchestrated. I’d thought I was pulling something clever, bringing Ruby and Rosie here like it was my idea. But he’d been ten steps ahead, leaving the door open just wide enough to make us think we’d chosen it. We hadn’t.
We’d walked straight into his hands.
It was worth it. Because they were safe. But that didn’t mean I liked the terms.
