Page 129 of The Bratva King

“He does.”

Luke processes this. “So, he’s a dad.”

My throat tightens. “Do you want him to be?”

Luke thinks about it. “I like him,” he says finally.

“I like him, too,” I whisper.

“Can we stay here?” he asks.

How do I explain that it’s complicated? That I’m terrified of getting attached? That I’m still waiting for everything to fall apart? The poor child has moved more times than is fair.

“Let’s just see what happens, okay?” I say instead. “For now, he’s our friend. A very good friend.”

“Okay.” Luke seems satisfied with this answer. He returns to his snack.

I stand up, and my legs feel shaky again.

Kylie catches my eye and gives me a sympathetic smile. She doesn’t have to say anything. I can read the message clearly. You’re in deep.

Yeah. I am.

Luke finishes his snack, and we move upstairs to his room. He wants to play with his dinosaurs, and I’m happy to sit on the floor with him, building elaborate scenarios where the T. rex fights the triceratops for dominance.

We’re in the middle of a particularly dramatic battle when Kylie appears in the open doorway.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she says. “But someone left something on my car while I was at the store. It has your name on it.”

My stomach knots. “What?”

She holds out a photograph folded in half. “It was under the windshield wiper. No envelope. Just this.”

I take it with shaking hands. Luke is absorbed in his dinosaurs, not paying attention to us.

I unfold it.

My vision tunnels.

It’s an old photograph. My parents on my wedding day. My father is looking at something in the distance with a smug expression on his face. He’d just traded me for power, and he knew it.

The only people who would have this are my parents or someone from my dead husband’s family.

“Gabby?” Kylie’s voice is far away. “Are you okay?”

I can’t breathe. The edges of the photo blur as my hands shake harder.

They found me.

After five years of running. Five years of hiding. Five years of looking over my shoulder.

They found me.

“I need...” I can’t finish the sentence. “Luke, keep playing, okay? I’ll be right back.”

“Okay, Mom.”

I walk out of the room on legs that don’t feel like mine. Kylie follows me down the hall.