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I can’t stay here. I have Adam to think about.
He studies me intently, his expression unreadable. It feels as though he's peeling back the layers of my soul. I shift uncomfortably under his scrutiny and clutch at the fabric of my shirt, praying that he'll take pity on me.
"Robin," he says slowly, his voice low and dangerous, "I can't just let you walk out of here. You know too much. You’re in danger, and given that you know nothing about this world, it falls on me to make sure you don’t fall victim to it."
My chest tightens as tears prick my eyes. I blink them away, refusing to let him see me break down. "Please, Boris," I whisper, my voice cracking, "I swear I won't tell anyone about what I've seen. I was hardly in there for five minutes. I didn’t see much. How would the Abatos family even find out about me? Just let me go home,” I try to argue against every point he might bring up.
For a moment, he remains silent, his face an inscrutable mask. But then, as if something inside him snaps, he lets out along, weary sigh. "You really don't understand, do you? There's no going back now. Whether you like it or not, you're a part of this."
His words are like a punch to the gut, leaving me reeling. I can't believe what I'm hearing. And what exactly am I a part of? Boris seems to be a rich and powerful businessman. If he can reclaim his stolen goods, he can let me go and do what’s needed to protect me behind my back, can’t he?
"Please," I plead once more, my voice barely audible. But before I can make my case, my panicked thoughts are interrupted by Boris's phone ringing. The sound grates against my nerves. He reaches over to put the call on speakerphone and moves to pour us both a drink from a nearby decanter. I watch him suspiciously, unsure what to make of this sudden change in his demeanor.
"Talk to me," Boris says, his voice low and serious, demanding answers.
"Boss," the voice on the other end begins, "We got our shipment back. About the warehouse—the Abatos men burned it down, probably to hide any evidence of their plan from us. But, we did find a list of agents working for them before it did."
My chest constricts, anxiety gripping me like icy tendrils. What if my uncle is one of those agents? Even though he's a cruel, heartless man, Adam and I still depend on him in some twisted way. The thought of something happening to him is unfathomable.
If I’m here and my uncle is caught, what will happen to Adam? I need to get out.
"Find them," Boris orders, his tone cold and ruthless. "I want every single name on that list accounted for—no exceptions."
"Understood, Boss," the man responds before hanging up.
Boris sets a glass of scotch down in front of me, and I stare at it, lost in my own thoughts. My hands tremble slightly as I wrap my fingers around the glass, trying to find some semblance of comfort in its solid presence.
"Drink," he commands, his eyes locked onto mine. "It'll help calm your nerves."
I hesitate, unsure if I can trust him, but ultimately decide that I have nothing left to lose. With a shaky breath, I bring the glass to my lips and take a sip. The alcohol burns a fiery trail down my throat but does little to quell the storm raging inside me.
"Listen, Robin," Boris says, his voice softer now, almost gentle. "I know you're scared, and I understand why. But you have to trust me when I say that I'll do everything in my power to keep you safe."
My hands tremble as I clutch the glass, and my eyes lock with his. He's waiting for me to say something and a part of me wants to tell him the truth, but I know I can't. If he finds out about my uncle's involvement with the Abatos, there's no telling what he'll do.
"Look," I say, forcing my voice to remain steady despite the fear clawing at my chest. "I didn't want any of this. As I said, I was just running an errand for a loved one. He owes some people money, and I wanted to help him pay off his debt. That's it."
Boris narrows his eyes, studying me intently, clearly trying to gauge the sincerity of my words. I hold my breath, praying that he'll believe me—that he won't see through the lies I'm weaving to protect my family.
"Please," I continue, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. "My little brother, Adam, doesn't know anything about this. He's just a kid, and he needs me to look out for him. We'reinnocent in all of this. We're just… caught in the crossfire. Adam has no one but me."
The raw desperation in my voice seems to strike a chord with Boris, and something in his expression softens. For a moment, he simply stares at me, his piercing blue eyes searching my face for any hint of deceit.
"Alright," he says finally, his voice low and thoughtful. "I believe you. But if you're telling the truth, then you and your brother are in even more danger than you realize. The Abatos family doesn’t take kindly to people betraying them—even if unintentional. They won’t just kill you. They’ll torture you."
A shudder runs through me at the thought of what might happen if the Abatos find out about my connection to their rivals. I can't let that be our fate—not when Adam still has his whole life ahead of him.
"Please," I beg, my voice barely more than a whisper. "You have to help us. We didn't ask for any of this. We're just trying to survive."
“That night at the club, you said you had an uncle, didn’t you?”
I nod, wondering where he’s going with this.
“He can take care of Adam. I know you said he’s no prince charming, but Adam will be fine.”
I pause, stuck in a grave of my own making. What can I even say? That my uncle isn’t an option? I already told him he helps us out in whatever minimal way possible. I can’t tell him my uncle sent me for that shipment because Boris might want him for questioning.
“But… but, my jobs,” I try saying. “I’ll lose my jobs. I work at Starbucks, and I have this transcription gig…” I mumble, my voice fading away as I run out of arguments.
