Page 34 of Rafi

I glare at him, irritation sparking. “What the fuck does that even mean?”

Rudy exhales heavily. “Victor Moreno sold you out to the Russians, thinking it would secure his seat at the table. But to them, he was just another disposable traitor. The Russians had their own agenda—we think payback for those containers you intercepted.”

“The cargo?”Mason asks, disbelief etched into his features. “You’re saying that was about the confiscated shipments?”

Emilio leans forward, his tone sharp as he explains. “Those containers were headed to Russia. Between the bodies, the arms, and the stolen artwork, someone lost a fortune. It’s not something that’s taken lightly.”

“Igor Aslanov?”

“Actually, his name hasn’t come up,”Emilio says. “He may have your girl, but we don’t think he’s related to the attack on the wedding party.”

“The Russian’s are out for blood,” Rudy adds, his voice low and ominous. “But we don’t know which Russian.”

A faint, distressed sound cuts through the tension—a soft, stifled mewl from across the room. My head snaps up, and Tayana’s standing there, pale and trembling, her breaths coming in short, frantic gasps. She’s hyperventilating, her body curling inward as though trying to shield herself from the weight of our words.

I hadn’t even thought how this conversation would affect her, and now I see that perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to conduct our business in front of her. I rise, taking long strides until I’m standing before her, my hand going to her elbow to steady her.

“Breathe, Tayana. Just breathe.”

“You…how can he be here?” She asks.Whyis he here?”

20

TAYANA

The words I’m hearing are the kind that leave you breathless and struggling to stay upright. Rafi and his family rescued an entire container load of people—human beings crammed in like cargo, kidnapped, on their way to being sold as though they were less than human. The weight of it presses against my chest, equal parts awe and disbelief. It’s an act so selfless, so dangerous, and yet he hadn’t said a word about it to me. Instead, he stood there silently, taking my accusations, letting me lash out at him as though he deserved it. He accepted every last one of my insults without defending himself.

The memory of my words burns in my mind as he walks me to my room, his steps unhurried but heavy with unspoken thoughts. I can’t let the silence stretch any longer.

“I’m sorry,” I say, the words tumbling out in a rush. My voice wavers, but I press on. “For accusing you of being just as bad as they are. I should have known better. When you told me you were looking for someone who’d been trafficked, I should’ve known you’re not like them.”

He stops, turning to face me, his dark eyes searching mine. “You couldn’t have known,” he says simply, his tone soft but firm.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

He shrugs his shoulders, tells me it was irrelevant in the grand scheme of things.

“I should have listened to you,” I insist, the guilt clawing at me. My voice cracks, but he shakes his head, brushing my apology aside with a question that catches me off guard.

“What will happen now? To the shelter, I mean?”

I blink, his words pulling me back to the larger picture. “We’ll move again,” I say, my voice steadier. “It’s inevitable, anyway. Every few months, we relocate so we aren’t compromised.”

“That has to get expensive,” he remarks, his brows furrowing. “How do you fund something like that?”

“The government helps, believe it or not,” I say with a small smile. “And the goodwill of strangers. Families of the missing play a huge role—financially and with their time. You wouldn’t believe the services we’re able to offer because of them. Every save… it hits home for someone.” The pride in my voice feels foreign, but it’s real. Every life saved is a victory.

He nods, absorbing my words. “This is your room,” he says, pushing open the door to reveal a warm, inviting space. The bed looks soft, the walls painted in soothing tones, and there’s an ensuite tucked in the corner. It’s more than I expect—more than I deserve, maybe.

I thank him quietly, but as he turns to leave, I catch his hand, stopping him. “What’s going to happen now?” I ask, my voice low.

He sighs, his shoulders tensing. “We have to sort this thing out with yourhalf-uncle.” His lips twitch as he remembers my defiance about my uncle’s bloodline earlier, but there’s no humor in his eyes.

I let out a half-hearted laugh, though the weight of the situation snuffs it out almost immediately. “How will you do that?” I ask softly.

“I have to talk to my brothers,” he admits, rubbing a hand over his face. “This is bigger than I imagined, Tayana. We have to get Maxine back. And we have to destroy Igor before he destroys us. If that’s why he’s here.”

The mention of Igor sends a chill through me, but it’s the next part that tightens the knot in my stomach. “My father…” I start, hesitating. “He doesn’t know about my work. The bodyguards don’t know. When they report back that they can’t find me, he’s going to start asking questions.”

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