Page 75 of Velvet Chains
She opened her mouth, but no words came out. She shut it again, then shook her head. “You should’ve let me call Alek.”
“That would’ve been a death sentence,” I said flatly. “Maybe not from the police—but from my brother? Absolutely.”
“You could’ve left,” she snapped. “You could’ve walked away. You didn’t have to make it so—”
“So what? Permanent?” I stepped closer. “You mean I could’ve left you behind. Sure. That was an option.”
She didn’t look at me.
“But I wouldn’t have done that,” I said. “And you know it.”
She went still—so still it made something in my chest twist. She was chewing on it now. Turning it over in her mind. The truth of it. The weight of everything we’d done for each other. Because of each other.
Her hoodie slipped off one shoulder, exposing bare skin. She didn’t seem to notice. But I did. Just like I noticed she wasn’t wearing a bra, and that her breath was catching a little now—faster, shallower. She was still mad. Still scared. But she wasn’t unaffected.
Neither was I.
“Tristan’s going to kill me if I don’t wrap this up,” I said, voice low. “I have a week. You have less.”
She glanced toward the door. Then to the bottle of eggnog. Her eyes flicked back to me.
“What do you expect me to do?”
“Cooperate.”
Her spine straightened. “With the Callahans? Is this a threat?”
“No.” I took another step in. Close enough to smell her shampoo, something citrusy and sharp. “I don’t threaten you, Ruby. I warn you. My brother—he’d threaten you. But only for a second. Before he put a bullet between your eyes.”
“Jesus Christ.” Her voice cracked. She turned away abruptly, grabbing the bottle of vodka and pouring two glasses of eggnog like her hands needed something to do. “Okay. Keep talking.”
“Send them elsewhere,” I said. “Make the feds chase something out of Boston. There are three other families in the northeast. Give them one of those.”
“You want me to give them someone else?” she asked, turning back. Her cheeks were flushed now—anger, maybe, or the heat creeping between us.
“You said it yourself. It’ll save you. It’ll save Rosie. The further you can send them from this city, the safer you’ll both be.”
She hesitated.
“And you,” she added, almost too quietly.
“I can take care of myself.”
She looked me over, eyes narrowed. “Sure looked like it the last time you showed up here.”
I rubbed the back of my neck. “I can take care of myself. If you’re not involved.”
Her jaw clenched.
“If Tristan still thinks you’re a problem,” I said, “I’m fucked. If the feds get what they want? You’re fucked. But if you redirect—”
“Stop.” Her voice was thin. A little breathless. “What if they know already?”
“They don’t,” I said. “Not everything.”
She leaned back against the wall, the steel gone from her eyes, her skin pale. “I can’t. I don’t have—”
“It won’t be forever, Rubes. Just long enough to get them off our backs.” I lowered my voice. “Do it for Rosie.”
