Page 83 of Inevitable Endings
I turn to run, adrenaline flooding my body as I bolt for the door.
As I step outside, the harsh light of the world beyond the roomgreets me, blinding in its suddenness.
My heart races in my chest, pumping adrenaline into my veins, and I push my legs faster.
Then I see them, almost immediately, running toward me, their faces full of concern. Ada’s eyes are wide, her movements frantic, and I don’t think I’ve ever been so relieved to see someone in my life.
“We need to get the hell out of here,” I gasp, barely able to catch my breath. My words come out in jagged bursts, but I’m not sure if I’m saying them for their sake or mine.
We get to the car and immediately lock the doors, Sawyer hits the gas padel.
The car lurches forward, and I can feel the sharp turn of the road beneath us as we speed away from that place, away from the disgusting house.
‘‘First, we get some distance,’’ Sawyer growls, his voice full of tension, like he’s pushing everything else aside to keep his focus on the road. “We’re not safe yet.” His eyes dart to the rearview mirror every few seconds, scanning for any sign that we’re being followed. The air inside the car is thick with the hum of urgency, and I can feel it wrapping around me, the anxiety coiling tighter and tighter.
This was a planned dead-end.
Chapter 37
The Unseen Empty
Isabella
The weight of the file in my lap feels like a foreign burden, but I can’t let go of it. Not now. Not when it might hold answers, answers I need.
Ada’s eyes flicker between the road and me, her hands gripping the seat in front of her. Sawyer’s grip is tight on the steering wheel, his knuckles white as he keeps his eyes focused forward, scanning the rearview mirror every few seconds. The tension in the car is suffocating, and I can feel every second of it, stretching out longer than it should.
I clutch the file tighter, the rough paper edge pressing against my palms. Without a word, I pull the file open, my fingers trembling slightly. Inside, it’s a jumble of papers, some crumpled, others folded neatly. But there’s one sheet that stands out, its contents typed in a terse, clean font.
I lean closer, scanning the document, the cold air from the car rushing through my hair as I read.
The offer is clear: $15,000,000, a sum meant to pay treason. The position is explicit, a power broker in the organization, with control over the Eastern European operations, an unimaginable wealth of resources now within reach. The terms follow, cold and calculated: full access to the Bratva’s assets and alliances, immediate cooperation in cross-border trafficking, arms deals, and the granting of priority access to key security networks,including law enforcement influence. What stands out the most, though, is the promise of immediate placement of men within key territories, as though they’re positioning themselves to take over and rewrite the balance of power in their favor.
I stare at the words in disbelief. It’s so… concise. So abrupt. This isn’t an official contract, just a cold transaction laid out like a business proposal, but there’s nothing normal about it. No explanation of who Lorenzo is, no context for the offer, no indication of why this was even made.
I glance at Ada, her face pale, eyes locked on the road, her hands gripping the wheel tightly. She’s bracing for something, even though she has no idea what’s coming. “Who the hell is Lorenzo?” Ada mutters under her breath, the name echoing in the car, a name that feels wrong.
Sawyer flicks his eyes toward the rearview mirror, his jaw tightening, his voice low and guarded. “I don’t know. But Monya’s in this too. He’s crossed over—bought off by this Lorenzo character. That’s why he’s playing both sides.”
The words hit me like a punch to the gut.Bought off.Monya, the man who’s always had a hand in everything, is playing games with them, shifting allegiances. It makes my stomach churn with the realization that we’ve been dancing in a web we didn’t even know was spun around us.
‘‘I’ve heard that name before,’’ I say quietly, almost to myself. “Lorenzo was mentioned in Aslanov’s case file.”
Ada glances at me, her expression confused, but Sawyer’s eyes narrow, and he leans forward slightly, intrigued.
“Lorenzo was tied to Tsepov,” I continue, voice laced with doubt. “I remember. He was mentioned briefly. But... why would Monya be connected to him? Did Tsepov trick us into Monya’s den of vipers?” My mind spins with questions. I don’t know anymore. Was Tsepov playing a different game than we thought? Had he been speaking the truth all along, or was he part of themanipulation?
Sawyer lets out a low breath, his voice harsh. “Everyone’s playing their part. Monya, Tsepov… even this Lorenzo. It’s all one big game, and we’re stuck in the middle.”
I can feel the weight of the file in my hands, but it’s no longer just a piece of paper. It’s a puzzle—one I’m struggling to solve.
“Fifteen million,” I murmur, my voice unsteady. “That’s what they’re offering to make the switch, to align with this… Lorenzo. Control, power, everything. It’s like they’re just trying to buy their way into something bigger, but I don’t get it.’’
Sawyer curses under his breath, his voice filled with frustration. “It’s more than just money, Isabella. They’re not offering just cash, they’re offering power, influence... and a whole new world order. But this Lorenzo guy? We still don’t know who he is, where he came from, or what he really wants. It’s all just pieces, no one’s connecting the dots yet.”
I look back down at the file, scanning the words again, desperate for any scrap of information that could give me a clearer picture. But it’s just the same, no names, no backstory, just cold offers. Fifteen million for a shift in power. Full control over operations. Priority access to all the resources and men that come with it. That’s it. That’s the whole deal.
Who is this man that he can offer such a deal?
