Page 70 of Rafi

“Don’t talk like that,” I cut in, but she silences me with a look that is both pleading and resolute.

“Please. If I don’t make it out,” she continues, her voice steadier now, “tell them I love them very much. And… tell them I’m sorry.”

Her words hang in the air like a death knell, each syllable a reminder of the fragility of our situation. I nod slowly, the weight of her request settling heavily on my chest.

“You’re going to tell them yourself,” I say, my voice firm despite the fear clawing at my insides. But her eyes tell me she doesn’t believe me, and in a way, I know there’s nothing I can say that will make her believe otherwise.

40

RAFI

The air inside the armored car is thick with unspoken words and simmering tension. The hum of the engine provides a monotonous backdrop, but it can’t drown out the storm raging in my head. Death is a strange thing. It sneaks up on you, strips you bare, and leaves you standing in a void, unprepared for the gaping hole it creates. I’ve felt it before—the loss, the emptiness—but nothing compares to the idea of losing someone you truly love.

Well, maybe one death prepared me: my mother’s.

She deserved what she got, and even now, I think she got off too easy. If I’d been in that room instead of Scar, I wouldn’t have stopped. The knife would’ve found its mark again and again, each stab a cathartic release of all the hatred she planted in us. And if I could’ve brought her back just to torment her all over again, I wouldn’t have hesitated. My memories of her are fragmented—shards of a broken mirror I never want to piece together. She left when I was too young to fully understand her cruelty, but the stories my brothers told were enough. What little memories I had were enough. The pain she caused us wasenough. Anyone who hurts my brothers deserves to rot in hell, and that’s exactly where she is right now.

I glance out the window at the blur of the landscape, the horizon stretching endlessly before us. Another hour to the private airstrip. Another hour of waiting, of hoping, of replaying every moment that has brought us here. The caravan moves steadily, three armored cars in a tight formation. Not as intimidating as the tanks we used at the Vicci compound, but still enough to withstand an ambush. I hope. There’s no point in coming this far if we can’t dodge a few flying bullets.

My brothers have always been my center, my reason. Losing one of them would feel like someone has ripped a part of my soul out and left me bleeding. Over the past few months, that circle has grown. Kanyan, ever the overprotective big brother figure, always hovering, always watching. Jayson and Mason, dependable as the sun rising—if there’s a fight, they’re in it, no questions asked. Even the boys from Seattle, with their sharp minds and sharper wit. These men, these women, all of them have become an integral part of me.

And then there’s Tayana.

The part of me I underestimated. I never even saw her coming, and now when I think about her, it’s like my heart does a rapid backflip and tries to keep up with itself but fails spectacularly.

She slipped into my life when I wasn’t looking, when I wasn’t ready, and yet she feels like she’s always been here. Now, she’s more than family. She’s the piece of me I didn’t know I was missing. I can’t imagine a life without her by my side. I won’t. The alternative doesn’t exist in my world.

Mason’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “Have you given much thought to what your future looks like?”

I turn to glance at him, sitting in the back seat with his usual smirk, though it is tempered with genuine curiosity. Out of thecorner of my eye, I watch Kanyan, behind the wheel, roll his eyes but say nothing. His hands grip the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles pale against his skin.

“What are you trying to do?” I ask, my tone sharper than he’s used to hearing. “Distract me from the fact that we’re driving into hell?”

Mason shrugs, unbothered. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just curious. We’ve all been playing this long game for months. Once it’s over, what then?”

I shake my head, not in denial, but because I don’t have an answer. Not yet. “We’re not there yet, Mason. This isn’t a happy-ending mission. We can’t go in with fuzzy feelings. We need to go in as monsters—cold, ruthless, ready to burn the place down if we have to.”

His smirk fades, and he leans back, crossing his arms. “Fair enough. But you might want to start thinking about it. Because even monsters have an expiration date.”

The words settle uncomfortably in the air between us. Maybe he’s right, but that doesn’t matter right now. All that matters is getting to Maxine, finishing what we started, and bringing Tayana back home where she belongs.

Because there’s no scenario, no future, where we go back home without them.

There’sa quaint charm about the hotel lobby when we step inside. The female concierge stands stiffly behind the counter, her neatly pressed uniform matching her rigid demeanor. She refuses to answer our questions, and she barely glances up as I slide my phone across the counter, the screen displaying pictures of Maxine and Tayana.

“You just missed them,” she says flatly, her lips pressing into a tight line.

Her eyes dart to the photo again, but her expression remains neutral, practiced. She’s good at this—too good. “I can’t give you any more information about paying customers,” she adds, her tone clipped.

My jaw tightens, but before I can push further, Mason steps forward. “At least tell us how many people they were with,” he says, his voice calm but edged with urgency.

The woman hesitates, her eyes flicking to a man seated at the far end of the counter. He’s older, with graying hair and a slightly rumpled uniform, and he exhales heavily before speaking up.

“Just the one,” he says, shooting her an irritated look. “You’re not going to get rid of them if you don’t give them what they want.”

The concierge stiffens but doesn’t argue.

The man turns to Kanyan, who stands beside me like a coiled spring, ready to snap. “Tall, good-looking Russian,” the man says, his tone bored, as if this isn’t the most important thing happening to him today.

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