Page 31 of Rafi

“Who is she?” One of the men sitting in the front of the car pipes up, looking at me in the rearview mirror. “I like her.”

I will myself to yell,to be angry, but instead, I feel... something else. Maybe it’s exhaustion. Or maybe it’s the fact that, despite everything, Rafi’s silence cuts at something deep inside me. Because ultimately, he’s fighting for the same thing I’m fighting for.

Salvation.

I’m trying to save the souls of the damned on earth, much in the same way that he is trying to save his friend Maxine. Who am I to begrudge him his methods? She obviously means a lot to him if he’s willing to go this far to find her.

“You two have made your mess,” the other man in the front passenger seat snaps, his voice hard. “Now you’re going to tell me what’s going on so I can help you clean it up.”

I turn to Rafi, my gaze unwavering, reluctant to share anything about my organization. “I can’t let anyone ruin everything I’ve built.”

The words hang in the air, sharp and demanding. I see the conflict in his eyes, the part of him that wants to walk away, that wants to turn his back on this mess. But there’s something else there, too. A quiet understanding.

“He can help,”he says after a long pause, his voice resolute. His eyes swing to the passenger seat, to the big man with the foreboding presence who seems to command even the air that shifts between us. “He’s theonly onethat can help.”

I hesitate, caught between the weight of his words and the walls I’ve spent so long building. I’ve kept secrets for a reason. For my own safety. For the safety of the people I help.

But in this moment, I realize something. He’s right. If we’re going to get through this, I can’t keep doing this on my own. Not with Igor in town and so many bizarre and unexpected things happening.

“Phones,” the big man says, holding out his hand. I throw a startled look toward Rafi, who shrugs and brings out his phone. The man sitting next to him follows suit, until the big man looks in my direction, waiting.

“I need my phone.”

“I’ll get you ten more. If they found you at that shelter, it means they’re probably tracking you through your phone. I don’t relish them tracking you where we’re going.”

I hand over my phone stubbornly and watch as the big man dismantles it, then as he proceeds to scatter parts of it out the window as we zigzag across the city.

“I’ll tell you what you need to know,” I say, my voice tight as I look at Rafi. “But don’t think that means I trust any of you. I don’t.” My eyes skim over all the men in the car to make my point.

His lips curve into a small, reluctant smile. “Sweetheart, the way things are going for you right now, we’re theonlyones you can trust.”

I nod, then turn my attention to the road as we drive through the city. Rafi’s eyes follow me without a word, but I can feel the tension between us, the fragile truce we’ve forged. There’s no going back from this. No turning back from the path we’re on.

I don’t know who to trust. But right now, I don’t have a choice. And neither does he.

The drive takesus far beyond the city's limits, the urban landscape fading into the sprawling countryside. Rolling fields stretch out under a deepening sky, painted in hues of twilight. The SUV eats up the miles, its tires humming steadily against the asphalt until we turn onto a long, private road flanked by towering trees.

Eventually, we arrive at a gated property, the massive black wrought iron gate looming ahead like the entrance to a fortress. It creaks open slowly, its ornate design casting jagged shadows on the gravel path as the SUV rolls through. Beyond the gate, the air feels heavier, the silence more profound, as though we’ve crossed into a world entirely separate from the one we left behind.

The driveway curves in a wide, elegant arc, bordered by manicured hedges and punctuated by the occasional lantern casting a soft, golden glow. The SUV glides to a stop in front of an enormous ranch-style home, its presence understated yet commanding. The house is almost completely obscured by a dense thicket of bushes, their wild growth carefully curated to create a natural barrier that shields the property from prying eyes.

The driver cuts the engine, leaving us in a silence broken only by the faint chirping of crickets and the distant rustle of leaves. I step out, my shoes crunching against the gravel as I take in the expanse of the property. It's clear this place wasn’t built for show—it was built for privacy, maybe even security.

The air smells of earth and faintly of pine, a far cry from the city’s exhaust and chaos. Here, every detail feels deliberate, from the sturdy pillars supporting the porch to the strategically placed floodlights that keep the edges of the property in shadow. This is a place where people come to disappear—or to plan something no one else is meant to see.

Whoever owns this house isn't just wealthy; they're careful. And careful people always have something to hide.

“Where are we?” I ask, my voice low as we ascend the wide, creaking staircase toward the massive front door ahead. The air feels heavy, not just from the weight of the long drive but from the unspoken tension hanging over all of us.

It’s the big man with the commanding presence who answers, his deep voice rumbling through the stillness. “Somewhere safe.”

Safe. The word carries weight coming from him, as if his definition of safety is measured in steel and blood rather than locks and distance. I’ve come to know his name is Kanyan De Scarzi, a name that carries its own reputation. The man is a wall of muscle and unflinching authority, the new head of the Moreno family after Victor Moreno’s spectacular betrayal left the position open. Kanyan now runs the family alongside Mason Ironside, the one who drove us here with a quiet efficiency that’s almost unsettling.

The compound we’ve arrived at is a fortress masquerading as a home, and while no one has outright said I’m a prisoner here, I feel the invisible chains all the same. My shelter has been compromised in the wake of an attack I didn’t see coming. It’s now become another dead site, and we’ll have to set up shop at another location. But first, I have to lay low for a while, until we learn more about the threat that’s made its way to our doorstep.

The timing is too perfect, too precise to be anyone other my uncle. It just doesn’t make any sense otherwise. The first attackof its kind, striking at the very heart of my efforts, right after Igor made his way into town. Igor never leaves his enclave back in Russia—his empire of shadows built on fear and whispered threats. For him to cross oceans and insert himself here means something significant is in motion. Something big. I don’t know why he’s here, and that’s what gnaws at me as we step through the massive doors and into the compound’s sprawling interior.

Kanyan strides ahead, his steps sure and deliberate, while Mason stays just behind me, his quiet watchfulness a constant reminder that I’m being monitored. I feel a twinge of frustration. This isn’t where I want to be. I need answers, and all this place offers is isolation.

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