Sofía’s room.
It had once been a guest suite, all clean lines and quiet luxury.Now it was something else entirely—medical monitors humming softly, blackout curtains drawn, a nurse stationed nearby at all hours.Sofía herself was conscious, quiet, healing slower than she liked and faster than the doctors expected.A broken arm immobilized.Bruises blooming and fading by degrees.
Rafael hadn’t left her side much.
Not hovering.Not crowding.Just present—sitting in a chair near the wall, checking her vitals when the nurse stepped out, arguing softly with her in Spanish when she tried to push past pain she had no business challenging yet.
She wasn’t going anywhere until she was physically capable of being moved safely.That much was non-negotiable.
Where she would go after that ...remained unanswered.
Sofía had secrets.Eliza could feel them the way she felt pressure changes before a storm.She wasn’t ready to share them yet—and no one was forcing her.
On the first night back, Nikolai had suggested a full background sweep.
“Everything,” he’d said, voice low and controlled.“Financial, digital, aliases.I want to know who we brought into this house.”
Rafael had looked at him for a long moment before shaking his head.
“Not yet,” he’d said quietly.“Give her time.Let her breathe.Trust comes before truth.If she takes too long to do that, then we can go through with the sweep.”
Nikolai had held his gaze—then nodded once.
Later that evening, as the light outside softened into early dusk, Nikolai rose from the edge of the bed and offered his hand.
“Dinner,” he said quietly.
Eliza took it without hesitation.
Downstairs, the Covenant had taken over the long dining table again, plates already set, the smell of simple, nourishing food grounding the room—roasted chicken, vegetables, bread still warm.Nothing elaborate.Just sustenance, shared.
The mood was different this time.Lighter.Sharper.Victorious—but still disciplined.
“The indictment dropped this morning,” Dominic said, scrolling on his tablet.“Federal custody.No bail.They’re stacking charges against the fucker—human trafficking, racketeering, financial terrorism.”
“What about his immunity?”Mara asked, already knowing the answer.
“Gone,” Elias replied calmly.“Burned when the evidence went public.Too many eyes saw it.Too many governments affected.”
Eliza felt something ease in her chest.
Jail.
Not hiding behind walls or lawyers or money.A cell.Consequences.
“He won’t see daylight again,” Luka added.“Not without a presidential convoy and a riot.”
“That’s assuming he survives his first month inside,” Dominic muttered."Assholes like him don't last long."
Conversation shifted easily, organically—damage control, political fallout, agencies tripping over themselves to distance, arrests spreading outward like cracks in ice.
“Good thing we had eyes watching our backs,” Elias said at one point, glancing toward Eliza and Mara.“It would’ve gone very differently otherwise.”
Mara smiled faintly.“Always nice to be appreciated.”
Nikolai sat back, arms folded, listening more than speaking.When Elias turned to him, it was with purpose.
“What's happening in Florida?”Elias said.“At your place.”
