Chapter 10 - The MoleTrust became dangerous again.
Adrian wanted Rourke arrested immediately.
Elena wanted evidence.
Rachel wanted coffee.
I wanted one week without anyone threatening murder.
We compromised badly.
Warehouse B-17 remained under surveillance for seventy-two hours.
Rourke came and went twice.
So did politicians.
Business executives.
A deputy police commissioner.
One federal contractor.
Every appearance widened the case.
Ramirez was almost cheerful.
“If we move now, we get Rourke,” she said.
“If we wait, we get the network.”
Adrian hated waiting.
I understood why.
Every hour Rourke stayed free was another hour Elena remained vulnerable.
But Adrian listened.
That was new.
On the third night, he and I sat outside beside the pool.
Dante slept between our chairs.
The mountains were black against the stars.
“Do you regret marrying me?” Adrian asked.
I looked over.
“That’s abrupt.”
“You haven’t answered.”
“Do you?”
“No.”
Immediate.
My chest tightened.
“Why?”
He looked toward the water.
“Because you argue with me.”
“That’s your reason?”
“People rarely do.”
“Maybe because you have armed employees.”
“They’re mostly contractors.”
“That is not reassuring.”
He smiled.
Then became serious.
“You tell me when I’m wrong.”
“You are wrong often.”
“Exactly.”
I laughed.
Silence settled.
Comfortable.
That scared me more than danger.
“Adrian.”
“Yes?”
“When this ends…”
He went still.
“The contract says we divorce.”
“It says we can.”
“We planned to.”
“Yes.”
I looked down.
“Do you still want that?”
He was silent too long.
My heart began pounding.
Finally:
“No.”
I stopped breathing.
Adrian looked at me.
“But what I want is irrelevant if you do.”
“That’s annoyingly correct.”
“I’m improving.”
I smiled.
Then lost it.
“I don’t know what I want.”
“You don’t need to.”
“I’m afraid.”
“Of me?”
“No.”
That answer came easily now.
“I’m afraid of choosing someone again.”
Adrian leaned back.
“Then don’t choose me.”
I stared.
“What?”
“Not yet.”
“Adrian—”
“You left Tyler less than two weeks ago.”
The words landed gently.
“You don’t need another man.”
“That sounds like rejection.”
“It isn’t.”
“Then what is it?”
“Space.”
I looked away.
Of all the things I expected from a man like Adrian Vale, patience had never made the list.
He continued.
“If we divorce when this ends, I will still want you safe. If you never speak to me again, I will respect it. If you decide in a year that this was all trauma and adrenaline, I will understand.”
“And if I decide it wasn’t?”
His eyes held mine.
“Then find me.”
My throat tightened.
“That’s unfairly romantic.”
“I apologize.”
“No, you don’t.”
“No.”
The next morning, Tyler asked to speak with me again.
This time, he had information.
I agreed only because Ramirez stayed in the room.
Tyler looked healthier.
Still bruised.
Still smaller somehow.
“Rourke knows about Baltimore,” he said.
“We know.”
His eyes widened.
“You found him?”
Ramirez said nothing.
Tyler looked at me.
“Then you need to move fast.”
“Why?”
“He has an exit plan.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then why call me?”
He swallowed.
“Because I remembered something.”
I waited.
“Rourke had a safe in his Manhattan office.”
“Federal agents searched it,” Ramirez said.
“He kept a second compartment.”
Ramirez leaned forward.
“Where?”
“Behind the back plate.”
“What’s inside?”
“Passports. Cash. Maybe a ledger.”
“Maybe?”
“I never saw everything.”
Ramirez left to make a call.
Tyler and I remained with a guard.
He looked at my ring.
It was plain platinum.
No diamond.
My choice.
“You really married him.”
“Yes.”
“Do you love him?”
“That is none of your business.”
Pain crossed his face.
Once, that would have made me comfort him.
I didn’t.
“He’s dangerous.”
“So were you.”
“I never killed people.”
“You were going to drug me.”
Tyler looked down.
“You’re right.”
“Yes.”
“I keep thinking about what you said.”
“What?”
“That love without respect is hunger.”
I said nothing.
“I did love you.”
“Tyler.”
“I know. I know that isn’t enough.”
He looked at me.
“I want to understand why I became that person.”
“That’s something you work out without me.”
“I know.”
“Good.”
He nodded.
Then his expression changed.
“Did Vale tell you about Isabel?”
I froze.
“Who?”
Tyler immediately looked regretful.
“Never mind.”
“No.”
My voice sharpened.
“Who is Isabel?”
“I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“Tyler.”
He sighed.
“Isabel Moretti.”
“What about her?”
“She and Adrian were supposed to marry.”
My stomach twisted.
“When?”
“Years ago.”
“He said he was never engaged.”
“I don’t know if it was official.”
“What happened?”
Tyler hesitated.
“Rourke killed her father.”
A guard moved.
Time was up.
I left furious.
Not because Adrian had a past.
Because I had asked.
And he had avoided it.
Back at the house, I found him in the library.
“Who is Isabel?”
His face changed.
There it was.
Truth.
“Where did you hear that name?”
“Tyler.”
Adrian stood.
“Emma—”
“I asked if you had ever been engaged.”
“I wasn’t.”
“Were you going to marry her?”
Silence.
“That’s a yes.”
“No. It’s complicated.”
“That is what guilty people say.”
His jaw tightened.
“Nothing happened between Isabel and me.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“No.”
He rubbed a hand over his face.
“My father arranged a potential marriage between our families.”
“Potential.”
“Yes.”
“Did Isabel want it?”
“No.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Then why hide it?”
“Because it had nothing to do with you.”
“That was your decision.”
He went still.
I continued.
“You don’t get to decide what information matters to me when I’m the one asking.”
“You’re right.”
My anger lost momentum.
I hated when he did that.
“Stop agreeing so efficiently.”
“I’m trying not to repeat mistakes.”
I crossed my arms.
“Tell me.”
So he did.
Isabel had been nineteen.
Adrian twenty-three.
Their fathers planned to merge families through marriage.
Both of them refused.
Isabel eventually married someone she loved and moved to Arizona.
Her father was murdered by Rourke years later over an unrelated debt.
“Tyler twisted it,” I said.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To destabilize us.”
Us.
The word landed softly.
“Did it work?”
Adrian asked.
“I’m still deciding how angry I am.”
“Fair.”
I looked at him.
“Why didn’t you just tell me?”
“Because that part of my life feels ugly.”
“So?”
“So I wanted you to see…”
He stopped.
“What?”
“The man I’m trying to become.”
Something inside me cracked open.
“Adrian.”
He looked at me.
“You don’t get to choose which version of you I judge.”
Silence.
“I need the whole person.”
His eyes changed.
For one second, the room became very quiet.
Then Ramirez called.
The hidden compartment in Rourke’s Manhattan safe had been found.
Inside were cash, passports and a handwritten ledger.
Enough evidence to connect Rourke directly to bribery, extortion and several murders.
But one page was missing.
The page listing payments to someone inside the federal task force.
There was a mole.
And whoever it was had known every safe house Rachel used.
Every convoy route.
May you like
Every move we had made.
Someone inside the investigation had been feeding Rourke information from the beginning.
