Iglance at my watch, irritation coiling in my gut. Where the hell is Ethan?He’s over twenty minutes late. At first, I planned not to show up, but guilt gnawed at me. Ethan took a brutal beating because of me, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I owed him this conversation. So, I texted Johnny—told him I had a late client meeting, something tedious with numbers that could drag on for hours. I promised I’d text when it wrapped so he wouldn’t waste time sitting in a car out front.
He didn’t buy it at first. Came up to my floor, checking the conference room. I made sure he saw me sitting in on a meeting I didn’t even need to be at. I left after him, taking the next elevator down. A coil of unease knots in my stomach. My plan is simple: meet Ethan, shut down whatever insane idea he has about me helping him, and walk away. I’m tired of people thinking they can push me around. For a moment, I thought Ethan might be a way out of Cyan’s control, a lifeline. But… it’s trading one devil for another?
A sharp car horn echoes through the underground parking garage, jolting me. My pulse kicks up as I spin toward the sound. A white delivery van pulls into the unloading zone. I watch as the driver steps out, and it’s not Ethan. She moves with practiced indifference, opening the back doors without a glance in my direction. Tension knots tighter in my stomach. If Ethan doesn’t show in the next few minutes, I’m leaving.
The flickering overhead lights hum, the sound making my nerves itch. The emptiness of the garage amplifies every little sound: the scuff of my heels against concrete, the occasional creak of metal.What the hell am I doing here?This is reckless and stupid.
Meeting Ethan now feels like stepping off a ledge, with no idea what awaits below. I scan the parking garage again, searching for anything off, but there’s no one else. Just me, the delivery driver, and the oppressive silence stretched between us. The woman moves quickly, unloading box after box of stationery; her actions are mechanical. My gut tightens. It’s late—too late for a standard delivery, a shiver skates down my spine.Is she one of Cyan’s people?She pushes her trolly of boxes my way, and I take a step back, when the delivery driver passes close enough for me to hear her murmur under her breath.
“Aria, check the van. There’s a package for you.”
I freeze. “What package?” No response.
The woman keeps walking, pushing her trolley toward the building’s back entrance. My heart pounds as I glance toward the open van doors. This is a bad idea. I force myself forward, peering inside. Rows of boxes, printer paper, staples, standard office supplies; nothing unusual. Then, a stack of boxes shifts and swings open like a trapdoor. Ethan sits inside a hidden compartment, flanked by an unfamiliar woman and another man.
“Hurry. Get in, Aria.”
A car door slams somewhere behind me. Instinct takes over, and I climb in without thinking. The second I’m inside, Ethan pulls the hidden panel shut. “You’re late!”
Ethan holds up a finger, pressing it to his lips for silence. My skin prickles with unease. The van’s back doors slam shut behind me. A short while later, the vehicle jerks forward, rolling out of the parking garage. Only then does Ethan finally speak.
“Sorry, Aria. I know we’re late. The guards around the building increased, so we had to wait for an opening. Now, let’s get down to business.” I sit stiffly in the cramped van, spine straight, every nerve on edge. “Aria, this is Special Agent Lia and Special Agent Alex... from FBI’s Organized Crime Task Force.”
Agent Alex wastes no time. “Miss Boschett, we’ll cut to the chase. Your boyfriend, Cyan, is dangerous. We need your help to bring him down.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I snap.
“Well, from where we’re sitting, it sure looks different. You’re chauffeured around by one of the Ten Irish Fists. No one drops half a million on cars with bulletproof glass for someone insignificant,” Alex scoffs, his tone laced with disgust.
“Those aren’t my vehicles,” I grit out.
“They were purchased in your name,” Agent Lia interjects
My stomach lurches. “What?” I don’t miss what they’re doing: good cop, bad cop. Alex plays the brute, and Lia is the rational voice of reason.
Ethan leans forward, voice dropping into something conspiratorial. “Aria, it doesn’t matter what you think. What matters is that Cyan thinks you have value. That alone puts you at risk. You don’t understand… Cyan’s called ‘The Púca’ because he’s like a ghost in the underworld. He moves in the shadows, dominating the Boston syndicate. If we don’t take him down now, he won’t just be Capo of Boston. He’ll be Don of the entire syndicate.” Ethan runs a hand through his hair, exhaling. “I know I’m asking a lot, Aria… but trust me. We wouldn’t steer you wrong.”
I swallow hard.Funeral dates.Those words Cyan whispered to me the night we met resurface like a ghost. “Absolutely not. You’re asking me to risk everything. My life, my family’s safety!”
“Calm down, Miss Boschett,” Alex sneers. “You don’t really have a choice. Either you help us, or you go down with him.”
There’s a buzzing in my ears as icy dread spreads through me. “What the hell does that mean?”
Alex’s smirk is razor sharp. “Accessory after the fact. We have you on tape. You knew about the assault on Detective Ethan.”
“I only came here to tell Ethan I wasn’t interested in whatever deal he cooked up. I know nothing!” How many times do I have to keep saying no? Why aren’t they listening to me?
“Look, Aria, I didn’t have to tell them anything,” Ethan cuts in smug. “But everyone knows,” Ethan spits. “You’re fucking him.”
My body goes rigid. His words slam into me. I narrow my eyes. “Screw you, Ethan. You’re just jealous. I’m not screwing you.”
“Bitch,” Ethan shifts abruptly. Agent Lia presses a hand to his shoulder, shoving him back into his seat.
“Keep your mouth shut, rookie, or you’re off this operation.” Ethan glares but obeys. I flip him off.
Lia sighs and turns to me. “Aria, listen. Whether or not you realize it, you can get us the information we need. Once Cyan is taken down, we can put you and your family into witness protection.”
I meet her gaze, my voice trembling despite my best efforts. “Say I do th-is. Say I ag-ree to help you. Can you guarantee my family and friends will be safe?” Silence. No one speaks. “That’s what I thought. My answer is still no.”
