Page 121 of Devil's Iris
The female officer’s lips twitch as she relieves me of both boxes. “Sounds delicious.” She places them on a nearby desk and pops the lids open. “Looks legit. No raisins?”
“God, no. I’m not a monster.” I grin, earning myself a few grunts of approval—progress. “They’re completely safe,” I continue, raising my hands in mock surrender. “Scout’s honor.”
“You don’t look like a scout,” she mutters, but takes one of the cookies anyway. She makes this satisfied sound in her throat as she chews, and almost immediately she’s surrounded by eager colleagues, all reaching for the pastries.
Mission accomplished.
Maybe Romero was right and I shouldn't have come here,but I had to come at least once to treat these tired officers. Because it all started here.
Okay, maybe not here exactly. Maybe it all started the moment I was born into a family of liars and addicts. Maybe every decision my parents made was leading to this moment, or the choices I made along the way. But this police station was definitely the turning point.
If I hadn’t been arrested that evening, if the bachelorette party hadn’t packed the holding cell, if I hadn’t been handcuffed to a chair right where I’m standing now, I never would have met Romero.
The butterfly effect is staggering when I think about it.
No arrest means no firing from that job I lowkey hated.
No job loss means no desperate need to go serve at that senator’s party.
No party means no second encounter with Romero.
So when the loan sharks showed up to take Mom and Ethan away with their threats, I wouldn’t have had anyone I could turn to.
My entire life would have unspooled in a completely different direction...
I shudder remembering Mikkel’s horrific words about what he had planned for Ethan and me. Without Romero’s intervention, I would have gone from virgin to glorified prostitute, trapped in a cycle of debt that would never end. Not with a man like Mikkel profiting off my body.
No chance I’d have ever caught the attention of a man whose world revolves around blood and secrets then. And I definitely wouldn’t be this deliriously happy and in love.
So yes, maybe I shouldn’t have come here, but I wanted to—needed to.
And I’m so glad I did.
Because all those things that might not have happened did happen. I met Romero at the right time. He gave me his card.Then I caught his attention again at that senator’s party. And he saved me—also single-handedly saved my family. Got Ethan into NYU, got Mom into rehab. Gave us all a second chance at life.
And who knows? Maybe I saved him too—just a little bit.
The officers are no longer suspicious, their defensive postures melting away as they dive into the pastries. One of them actually cracks a smile at me as he chews. I linger just long enough to hear them start arguing over who gets the last piece of banana bread before slipping back out into the crisp evening air.
The car is waiting right in front of the station because this visit was just a quick detour on my way to Rafael's for dinner with family. I lift my chin, my heart swelling with deep, satisfied contentment. I now have six honorary brothers and sisters. Plus niecesanda nephew.
Elira gave birth to her bundle of joy last month, so tonight’s officially a celebration.
Though I’ve learned that Rafael and Emily will use literally any excuse to throw elaborate dinner parties at their place. Showing off their stunning penthouse mansion and incredible private chef. But a new baby is definitely a good reason to celebrate.
I adjust my purse strap as I walk down the station steps, unzipping it to take my phone out so I can text my Romeo. We were supposed to drive there together, but something urgent came up at work and I decided to leave without him. He’d meet me there.
I unlock my phone and am halfway through typing when something makes me go still. I can’t pinpoint what it is—paranoia? Intuition? Or maybe just the survival instincts I’ve developed since marrying into this life. But suddenly it feels like someone’s watching me.
Shit.
And apparently my bodyguards—I never go anywhere without them now, and I finally understand why Emily was so blasé about them during my bachelorette party—sense it too because they’re already moving away from the car towards me.
That’s when she materializes—a woman appearing as if conjured from the air itself, cutting me off with blue eyes blazing with a host of emotions I can’t understand. “Leni, lose the guards. I need to talk to you.”
She knows my name.
And thanks to Emily’s lunch-time photo sharing, I know hers.
