Then I hear his shoes on the tiles. One step. Two. His expensive leather shoes stop in front of me. I don’t dare look up.
“Changed from where?” His voice is rough, close.
“That too… I don’t know. We—” No. Not anymore. “—theynever shared anything but bed and violence with the women in the Konfetki.”
Another low growl rolls from him. Chris’s hand tightens on my arm.
“Is there anything else that could help us trace it faster?” he asks, his tone now steady, all steel.
Think. Diana is in danger. Think, Roran. Think. I clench my teeth.
Think—
“Ah!” I lunge for the backpack. My hands tremble as I unzip it, digging frantically.
There.
I hold up a small piece of paper, unfolding it carefully. Chris releases her grip as I stand, then places it into Luca’s hand.
Vlad’s phone number. I wrote it down before I ran, hid it in my bra—just in case I’d need him as a last resort.
“I wanted to bribe him before. He handles the drug supply for Fedor. I was going to use his number to meet him again… They stock it at the Red Dock, but it’s impossible to get inside—”
“Leave ‘impossible’ to us,” Luca snaps, clenching the paper in his hand before passing it to Mariano.
He nods and strides out, disappearing into the corridor.
My fingers twitch at the empty space where the paper had been. The only tiny connection to Diana I had left.
I’ll see her soon. I have to. Tears burn the edges of my eyes.
“She’ll be fine. She’s fine!” Chris insists, leaning close to my ear as Luca follows Mariano’s trail out.
“She’s the only thing I have left in this world,” my voice cracks. “I can’t lose her.”
A tear escapes, burning hot down my cheek. Then Chris surprises me. She wraps her arms around me, pulling me into a tight embrace.
I hesitate… then my hands clutch the back of her shirt, and I break. A sob rips out of me, my face buried in her shoulder.
I’ve never broken in front of anyone. Never shown weakness.
But I can’t hold it anymore.
For the first time in my life, I find comfort not in pity—
But in warmth. In acceptance.
She stands there quietly as my tears soak into her shirt. I don’t know how long it’s been until Kayla’s voice cuts through the fading sobs coming from the entrance.
“That’s it. I’m done sitting quietly when I can actually help.”
“Kayla. No—”
Chris snaps, not breaking her hold on me. But I finally raise my head, pulling away to look at Kayla as she strides toward us.
“You don’t get to tell me what to do, Chris.” Her voice trembles with anger and something deeper—a fierce determination that reminds me so much of Diana it nearly stops my heart. “I’m tired of being the pampered princess when I could actually help. Especially in Roran’s case.” Her frown deepens. “I’m not made of glass!”
Help? How?
