Chapter 6 - THE MAN I WAS SUPPOSED TO FEAR
For ten seconds, I could hear nothing except my own heartbeat.
Niko’s cufflink.
I remembered it clearly because Stella had joked about how expensive it looked before the ceremony.
Black onyx.
Silver S.
Now it rested beside Helena’s bloodied hand.
Niko saw the photograph.
His face didn’t change.
That frightened me more than denial would have.
“Is it yours?”
“Yes.”
“Where is the other one?”
He touched his left cuff.
Empty.
“When did you lose it?”
“I don’t know.”
Marco swore.
“You wore both at the cathedral.”
“I know.”
I stared at Niko.
“Did you kill Helena?”
Marco looked offended.
Niko raised one hand, stopping him.
Then he looked directly at me.
“No.”
“Did you order someone to?”
“No.”
“Are you lying?”
“No.”
Three answers.
No hesitation.
I wanted desperately to believe him.
That frightened me.
Because forty-eight hours ago, Niko Santoro had been a stranger.
A name.
A threat.
Now I knew how he looked when he heard his dead mother’s voice.
I knew he slept with a gun within reach.
I knew he drank coffee without sugar.
I knew he stepped between me and windows without thinking.
Trust should have taken longer.
Instead, danger had accelerated everything.
“Then someone planted it.”
“Yes.”
“My father?”
“Possibly.”
“Vescari?”
“More likely.”
“Or someone in your family.”
Niko’s eyes narrowed.
Marco became silent.
I continued.
“Who had access to you during the wedding?”
“Hundreds of people.”
“Who could take a cufflink without you noticing?”
Niko looked toward Marco.
“Family.”
The word fell heavily.
Before he could say more, sirens screamed outside.
Marco moved toward the security monitors.
“Police.”
“How many?”
“Too many.”
Niko looked at me.
“This is your last opportunity.”
“To do what?”
“Leave.”
The words hurt more than they should have.
“You think I’m going to walk outside and tell them you kidnapped me?”
“I think you should decide without pressure from me.”
“You’re really terrible at forced marriage.”
His mouth twitched.
Despite everything, I laughed.
A short, broken sound.
Then someone pounded on the upstairs restaurant door.
“NYPD!”
Marco swore.
Niko picked up his jacket.
“Where are we going?”
“You’re going upstairs.”
“With you?”
“No.”
My stomach tightened.
“You said beside you.”
“That was before police surrounded the building.”
“So?”
“So the safest thing you can do is walk out.”
“And what happens to you?”
“Not your concern.”
Something hot flashed through me.
“Stop deciding that.”
“Sloane—”
“No. Everyone keeps deciding what I can handle. My father decided I couldn’t know the truth about my mother. Your grandfather decided we should marry. You decided I needed to stay underground.”
“I’m trying to keep you alive.”
“So is everybody else, apparently. And somehow I keep getting shot at.”
He stared at me.
I stepped closer.
“If I walk out alone, they control the story.”
His expression shifted.
“If we walk out together,” I continued, “I control mine.”
“You don’t know what they’ll do.”
“I’m a law student married to the most notorious man in New York. I have a few guesses.”
Niko stared at me for a long moment.
Then he nodded.
“Together.”
We climbed the stairs.
The restaurant was filled with police.
At least twenty officers stood behind tables and doorways.
Weapons lowered but ready.
A federal agent stepped forward.
“Sloane Shaw?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Special Agent Daniel Mercer. Are you being held against your will?”
Every camera outside the windows seemed pointed toward me.
Niko stood five feet behind.
Not touching me.
Not speaking.
I could feel the weight of his silence.
“No,” I said.
The agent blinked.
“Are you safe?”
“Yes.”
“Did Nicholas Santoro force you to marry him?”
“No.”
That answer was technically complicated.
Niko hadn’t forced me.
My father had.
“Your father claims otherwise.”
“My father is under enormous pressure.”
“From Mr. Santoro?”
“No.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know yet.”
The agent looked frustrated.
“Ms. Shaw, we can remove you from this location.”
“I don’t want to be removed.”
“Sloane.”
My father’s voice.
I turned.
Arthur stood near the entrance.
Two agents surrounded him.
He looked exhausted.
“Dad.”
“Come here.”
I didn’t move.
His eyes became desperate.
“Please.”
“Why did you lie?”
“I’m trying to save you.”
“From Niko?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
Arthur’s face crumpled.
“You don’t understand.”
“Then explain.”
“Not here.”
“You created here!”
The restaurant went silent.
Even the officers looked uncomfortable.
I stepped toward my father.
“Did Niko kidnap me?”
Arthur said nothing.
“Did he?”
“No.”
Whispers exploded among reporters outside.
The federal agent’s expression tightened.
Arthur lowered his voice.
“They have Stella.”
My blood froze.
“What?”
“Vescari has Stella.”
I turned toward Niko.
His face changed instantly.
“Impossible.”
Arthur shook his head.
“Your men moved her from the hotel. Their vehicle was hit near Queensboro Bridge.”
Niko looked at Marco.
Marco’s face went white.
He touched his earpiece.
“Confirm Stella.”
Silence.
Then:
“Damn it.”
My knees nearly gave way.
Niko caught my elbow.
I didn’t pull away.
“When?”
“Twenty minutes ago.”
Arthur reached for me.
“Sloane, they called me. They told me to accuse Niko publicly or they’d kill her.”
“So you did.”
“I didn’t have time.”
“What do they want?”
“You.”
Niko’s hand tightened around my arm.
“No.”
Arthur looked at him.
“They want Sloane at Pier 36 at midnight.”
“No.”
“They said alone.”
“Absolutely not.”
The federal agent stepped forward.
“This conversation is over. We’ll handle the hostage situation.”
Niko looked at him.
“How?”
“We have trained teams.”
“So do I.”
“You also have a criminal record.”
“Not a conviction.”
I would have laughed in another universe.
Instead I looked at my father.
“Did they mention the ledger?”
“Yes.”
“Do they think I have it?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Niko’s head snapped toward me.
“What do you mean, good?”
I looked at him.
“We can use that.”
“No.”
“Niko.”
“No.”
“You haven’t even heard the plan.”
“I don’t need to hear a plan involving you walking into a hostage exchange.”
Stella’s terrified voice echoed in my memory.
Run.
We’ll figure something out.
She had been willing to help me disappear forty-eight hours ago.
Now she was missing because of me.
“I’m going.”
Niko stepped closer.
“No, you’re not.”
I stared at him.
“Try stopping me.”
Something fierce entered his eyes.
Then he did the last thing I expected.
He stepped back.
“Fine.”
Arthur stared.
“Niko.”
Niko looked at me.
“If you’re going, we do it intelligently.”
“We?”
“You wanted partnership.”
My heart beat harder.
“You’re getting it.”
For the next five hours, a strange alliance formed in the basement of a restaurant.
Federal agents.
Santoro security.
Arthur Shaw.
And me.
We created a fake ledger.
Tracking devices.
Audio transmitter.
Two teams.
Snipers positioned across the pier.
At eleven forty-five, Niko fastened a tiny microphone beneath the collar of my coat.
His fingers stopped before touching my skin.
“May I?”
The question almost destroyed me.
I nodded.
“Yes.”
He attached it carefully.
His knuckles brushed my collarbone.
Nothing more.
Yet the contact felt more intimate than anything that had happened between us.
“You’re shaking,” he said.
“I’m cold.”
His eyes held mine.
“Of course you are.”
The same words from the altar.
But this time there was no contempt.
Only something warm and painful.
I smiled faintly.
Niko didn’t.
“If anything feels wrong, you leave.”
“I know.”
“If I tell you to run, run.”
“I know.”
“Sloane.”
“What?”
His voice lowered.
“I was wrong about you before I met you.”
I swallowed.
“We covered this.”
“No.”
He stepped closer.
“I need you to know something before you walk onto that pier.”
My pulse quickened.
“What?”
“You are not reckless.”
His eyes searched mine.
“You’re brave in a way reckless people never are. Reckless people don’t understand consequences.”
His jaw tightened.
“You understand them. You walk forward anyway.”
My throat burned.
“Niko—”
A voice came through his earpiece.
“Vehicle arriving.”
The moment shattered.
Niko stepped away.
I walked toward Pier 36 alone.
Wind came off the East River.
At the end of the pier stood a dark sedan.
A man stepped out.
Tall.
Gray coat.
Silver hair.
I recognized him from photographs.
Luca Vescari.
A dead man.
Beside him stood Stella.
Hands bound.
Gun against her ribs.
Vescari smiled.
“Catherine’s little girl.”
My blood turned cold.
I tightened my grip on the fake ledger.
“Let her go.”
Vescari laughed.
“You sound exactly like your mother.”
Then he leaned closer.
“But Catherine made one mistake you won’t.”
“What?”
His smile widened.
“She trusted a Santoro.”
Behind me, somewhere in the darkness, I knew Niko was listening.
Vescari looked over my shoulder.
Almost as though he knew exactly where Niko was hidden.
May you like
Then he whispered the sentence that changed everything.
“Niko’s grandfather ordered your mother’s death.”
