Page 21 of Rafi

RAFI

Convincing her to help me is harder than I thought it would be. She fights me every step of the way, her sharp tongue and sharper instincts cutting through every argument I make. But eventually, she gives in. On one condition: her uncle must never know where she is.

The stipulation piques my curiosity more than I care to admit. There’s a secret there, buried under her icy facade. I’ve developed an almost compulsive need to uncover it. She seems to hate Igor Aslanov—maybe even more than she hates me—and for some reason, I can’t wait to unpack the layers of that hatred. What could drive someone to despise their own blood more than a stranger like me?

Watching her move around the shelter, I’ve started to piece together fragments of who she is. She’s not just running the shelter; she’s living it. It’s in every movement, every word, every hard edge in her tone when she talks about the people she protects. This isn’t just a job for her. It’s personal. I see it in the way she talks to the staff, the way she lingers over the files of victims as they arrive, a short term stop while she rehouses them or reunites them with family. It’s like she’s carrying the weight ofevery broken life on her shoulders, determined to save as many as she can.

For a brief moment, I consider telling her about the container load of trafficked humans we intercepted almost a year ago. It was the lead that eventually brought us to Mia’s twin sisters. The thought of sharing that story—of showing her that I’ve been in the trenches too—almost slips out. It’s exactly the kind of thing she’d care about, a cause she might respect. But one glance at her closed-off expression, the way her lips press together like she’s bracing for a fight, and I hold back. Tayana doesn’t strike me as someone who’d appreciate my war stories, no matter how noble they might sound.

She’s a puzzle I’m not sure I’ll ever fully solve. Every interaction leaves me wanting more—more answers, more insight, more of that fire she tries so hard to bury under layers of steel. For now, I’ll settle for her help, but something tells me that dealing with Tayana Kamarov is going to be anything but simple.

“You really shouldn’t have come here,” she says, as we walk through the shelter and I notice the curious eyes of volunteers following my movements.

“There was no other way to get a hold of you. You keep shutting me down at every turn.”

“For good reason,” she retorts, her voice carrying a trace of exasperation as we arrive at a makeshift kitchenette. She pulls open an overhead cabinet and reaches for two mugs, but before she can grab them, I lean in, my hand brushing hers as I bring them down for her. She flinches slightly at the contact, withdrawing quickly. I feel that same electric zap I felt when my skin slid against hers at the club. She’s acting like nothing happened between us, and she can hide all she wants, but I know she feels the lingering chemistry between us. We’re not done yet. Not by a long shot.

Turning her attention to the coffee machine, she adjusts the settings in silence. Moments later, she hands me a mug and lifts her own to her lips. She doesn’t ask how I take my coffee, yet somehow she gets it right. No cream or sweetener—just black. The dark brew slides down smoothly, the heat settling in my chest as she leans back against the counter.

She doesn’t offer me a seat, her stance clearly marking the boundaries of our interaction. Her sharp eyes meet mine over the rim of her mug, a silent challenge hanging in the air between us.

“You know exactly who I am,” I say at last, breaking the tense silence when it becomes clear she won’t take the first step toward the conversation we need to have. My tone is razor-sharp, weighted with the implication that my identity alone should be enough to earn her trust. “And I know who you are. More importantly, I know who your father is.”

Her face doesn’t change, but there’s a flicker of something in her eyes—fear, maybe, or anger.

“I have nothing to do with my father,” she says, her voice tight.

I laugh, low and humorless. “That’s funny, because everywhere I look, his name is right behind yours. And then there’s Igor-”

“Stop!” she hisses. “I don’t know why you insist on bringing up my family.”

“I’m not your enemy, Tayana.” I take a step closer, testing the line she’s drawn between us. “I just want answers. Your uncle?—”

“My uncle is a monster,” she snaps, cutting me off. Her voice echoes in the empty room, raw and filled with venom. “Do you think I don’t know that? Do you think I’ve spent my whole life blind to what he is?”

My voice softens, but I don’t back down. “Tell me where I can find him.”

“I don’t know where he is!” She takes a step back, her frustration palpable. “You think you can just barge in here and demand answers? That’s not how this works.”

“Then how does it work?” I press, my patience wearing thin. “Because from where I’m standing, you look like someone with a lot to hide.”

Her jaw tightens, and for a moment, I think she’s going to walk away. But then she exhales sharply, shaking her head.

“My father…my uncle. They don’t know I do this,” she says, indicating the space around us, and by extension the shelter. “If they did, they’d probably kill me.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

She sighs, and for the first time, I can see rings of exhaustion around her eyes. I follow her eyes as she looks through a small window onto the main floor of the shelter.

“Do you know the sheer amount of work and co-ordination that goes into these operations? You have no idea. It’s never-ending. And I don’t know what you thought you saw, but you may end up wishing you’d never found your friend if she’s been gone that long. Most of these people are damaged beyond repair if they’re rescued.”

“And yet, you keep going. Why bother if they’re damaged?” I ask her.

“Because I refuse to leave anyone behind. Helping however many we can outweighs the ones we lose. The work we do here is important, and I won’t let anything or anyone derail it.”

“That’s not why I’m here, Tayana.”

“Isn’t it? You just being here poses a massive risk to my organization. This isnotthe sort of place that can be talked about above ground. We’re dealing with some pretty dangerous, very powerful people here.”

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