Chapter 5 Chapter five

Chapter 5: Safehouse Terms.

The air in the concrete loft smelled of sharp antiseptic and cold copper from the blood of my sleeve.

I sat on the edge of a steel counter, my skin prickling as Nilo pressed a cloth soaked in rubbing alcohol directly into the tear of my forearm. My jaw locked so hard the hinges of my skull ached. I didn't make a sound. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of hearing me whimper.

"Hold still, Genevieve," Nilo muttered. He didn't look up, his fingers steady as he wiped the dark red smear from my skin. He wore a simple black t-shirt, his broad shoulders blocking the weak light of the single bulb overhead. He smelled like laundry detergent and warm skin, a scent that made my stomach do a sick but good flip thing.

I hated it. I hated how I felt right now around him. He was a Cross. His father hated my parents. I should have been looking for a weapon to drive through his ribs, but instead my feet stayed exactly where they were, refusing to budge.

"You don't get to call me that," I said, my voice dry. "Genevieve Drayne died five years ago."

"The Albano family doesn't think so," Nilo replied. He tossed the bloody rag into the sink, the metallic wet sound heavy in the quiet room. He reached for a roll of medical tape, his rough thumb brushing my inner wrist. "And neither does your boss, Zane. You're off the grid now. No more bakery. No more Aveline Moore."

"Then who am I?"

"Ahvi Rossi," he said, ripping the tape with his teeth. "You're a distant cousin from the southern territory. You're quiet, you keep your head down, and you answer only to me."

"You don't get to rename me, Nilo," I tried to pull my arm back, but his grip tightened, his palm wrapping around my forearm like an iron band.

"Tonight I get to keep you alive," he said, his voice dropping into a low flat rasp that made the small hairs on my neck stand up. He leaned in, his face inches from mine, his eyes were wide and completely unblinking. "That comes first. Everything else, including your pride is second."

I stared at his split lip, my fingers digging into the edge of the metal counter. The room suddenly got too small. I couldn't think with him standing this close, his heat rolling off him in waves.

"I don't need your protection," I lied.

"You're bleeding on my counter, sweetheart," he murmured, his thumb pressing against the fresh bandage on my arm. "You needed a miracle. But you got me instead."

Before I could push him away, his phone vibrated on the counter. The sharp buzz made my shoulders tense.

Nilo snatched it up, pressing it to his ear. He didn't speak, he just listened, his knuckles turning white as his grip on the cast tightened. His jaw ticked once, twice, before he ended the call and shoved the phone back into his pocket.

"What?" I asked, my voice tight. "Is it Zane?"

"The bakery is gone," Nilo said, his voice turning ice cold. "My men went back to clear your apartment. The entire block is taped off. Zane wiped the shop, burned his own papers and vanished. There isn't a single footprint."

My heart stopped as my jaw dropped.

"How's that humanly possible? That fast."

He turned to face me, his eyes turning cold. "Now you understand the kind of devils we are dealing with and why you need me.”

The black sedan rolled through the iron gates of the private terminal, the tires kicking up the wet gravel. The scent of rain slicked leather and exhaust filled the cabin, making my throat dry.

"We are not staying in the city?" I asked, watching the private jet idling on the runway.

"The Albanos own the city docks," Nilo said, not looking at me as he checked his weapon. "And Zane has your biometric profile. If we stay here, they will find you before Friday."

"This is Wednesday."

"Exactly my point."

He got out of the car, his heavy boots hitting the wet pavement. I followed him, my flats instantly soaking through with cold water. A man in a dark suit stood by the steps of the jet, his hand resting on his coat. He looked at me, his eyes widening as he seemed to recognize my face.

Nilo didn't let him speak. He walked straight up to the guard, his hand coming down flat on my waist, his palm hot through my thin sweater.

"This is Ahvi," Nilo said, his voice carrying a heavy, territorial weight that made the guard step back. "She's travelling under my name. If anyone asks, she's my fiancee."

"Of course, Sir." The guard said with a small curt nod.

I stiffened, my teeth aching from how hard I was gritting them. I tried to pull away from his grip, but his fingers dug into my hip. As we walked towards the entrance of the jet. I spoke out. "Protection and possession are not the same thing, Nilo," I hissed under my breath.

"To men like them, they are," he murmured, his eyes scanning the tree line of the tarmac. "If you're my property, they have to go through me to touch you. If you're just a stray, they'll drag her into an alley and cut your throat for the password."

"I am not your property."

"Then don't look like a victim," he said, his voice dropping into a low, warning rasp as he guided me up the steps of the jet. "Walk like you belong to the man who killed his own father to take the crown.”