I watch the exchange unfold before my eyes patiently, tapping the pen on my notepad to the beat of the low music playing in the background. It's almost drowned out by the chatter of the customer-filled café, but if I single out the tune and focus on it, I can ignore the urge to smack the people in front of me.

A woman in a blonde bob and a business suit snaps the menu shut and glares at the man in front of her. "Yes, but I don't get why you had to call the sitter today. It's her day off, and we're—"

"What do you mean, why'd I call the sitter today? I just did, okay? It's a busy day and I need to make sure she can take care of Lexi and Hayley if we get pulled—"

"No, no, no," she interrupts him. "You just want an excuse to talk to her like every single time, and I'm not buying it this time, Richard."

Before the man can erupt into an argument again, I step in. "I can come back another time if you're still not ready to order."

"No!" They simultaneously snap at me. I bite the insides of my cheeks.

The woman huffs and directs her attention to me. "Can I have an Iced Mocha with no chocolate?"

"Sure, but that's just our Iced Coffee. Can I get you one of those instead?"

"Did I ask for an Iced Coffee? No, I asked for an Iced Mocha with no chocolate. If I wanted an Iced Coffee, I would've ordered that instead, okay? Thanks."

Blowing out air through my nose, I nod slowly and jot down her order, the pen dragging across the paper harshly. "And you, sir?"

"Can I have a large, decaf, white chocolate Mocha with skimmed milk. I cannot stress the skimmed milk enough; I'm really trying to watch my diet. Also, add some marshmallows and three extra pumps of white chocolate for me, will ya sweetie?"

I blink, dumbfounded, but nod nonetheless. Just as the woman starts to reprimand him for his use of 'sweetie', I turn on my heels and almost skip to the counter to give in the order. On days like this, I force myself to imagine every customer as a dollar head sign.

Rin catches my eye across the counter and juts her head, gesturing to something behind me. "Your daily customer is outside."

It takes me a second to realize that she's talking about David Roman. "Why didn't he come in?"

She shrugs. "Beats me, but you better check out what he wants. He's been waiting for a while now."

I inwardly curse the couple from hell that's been taking too much out of my time and leave the pad and pen on the counter before making my way outside. I don't need to jot down David's order. When I push open the door to the café, I'm met with the freezing air and a fancy, black car in front of the entrance.

The tinted windows of the passenger seat roll down to reveal David's face, his eyes guarded by his signature sunglasses. "Get in."

Every bad thing I've done runs through my mind for a horrifying second, and I wonder if he's caught on to me. "What?"

"Do I need to say it in Farsi, Sage? I said, get in," he replies impatiently and pulls down his glasses, baring his sharp eyes.

As I round my way to the other side of the passenger seat, I force myself to keep calm. If something bad happens to me, Rin will know that David's the last person I was seen with, Theo and Marli will catch on once they ask her, and David will be exposed. And if it comes down to it, I can fight my way out of trouble.

I step into the car, shutting the door behind me, and turn to the man of power.

"I couldn't be in there for—" he winces and plays with the wedding ring on his finger. I'm hit with the astonishing realization that David Roman is fidgeting in front of me in a wrinkled suit for the first time. "—for reasons I can't speak of. But I need you for something. I host a Feed the Homeless project every year, and you're going to attend this year's event in two weeks. The night of this event is another ball that you will go to. This will be the last of your end of our bargain."

I try to follow his words, but my thoughts are going haywire. There's a tightness in my chest as I grasp some words: two weeks, ball, end of our bargain. I realize that his business with Giordano is in two weeks, everything will come crashing down then.

"Will I continue to attend Whetherton after the ball?" I don't know why I ask that question. Nothing will matter after that night.

He stops fidgeting with the silver band around his finger to look me straight in the eye. "Yes, if everything goes as planned."

I shudder.

༺༻

His words are haunting, medieval church bells in my head for the rest of my shift and when I take the train home. Everything about that conversation felt as though I've stepped into a new level of this game without realizing it—the hardest and most important one yet. So close yet so far, everything I've worked for depends on what happens next.

And something tells me that I'm not the only one who is anxious about it. An image of David's disheveled and jumpy appearance appears in my head as I walk the dirty street to my house. It was so unlike him which makes everything worse. I can't believe the David Roman is unraveling—

Someone grabs me from behind.

I'm quick to slip out of the hands that grip my elbow and use my heel to dig into the foot of my attacker. He lets out a frustrated groan that vibrates in my ears. I use his moment of imbalance and try to spin on my heels, twisting one of his arms in the process. But he is quick in using my weak arm to his advantage, keeping it tucked between my shoulder blades. I'm now locked and helpless.

"You still didn't work on that weak left arm of yours?"

His voice is a welcoming bucket of cold water, and I almost fall to my knees from relief when he lets go of me. I spin to face Lucien.

My face relaxes into a wild grin. "You're here!"

He laughs and clutches me in his arms. "I am. I'm here."

Slouching in his strong embrace, I wrap my arms around his neck and breathe in his warm, familiar scent: soap and earth. A mix between a sob and a laugh erupts within me. It's like coming home after a long, harsh trip I didn't know I was on, and finally slipping into the comforts of your home bed.

"Why are you crying?" he asks, brushing my hair.

I pull away from him and shiver when the cold air touches my wet cheeks. His familiar eyes make my vision blur with fresh, burning tears again. "I don't know, I—I just, I've missed you, Lucien."

"Well, I'm here now," he replies, and grins. "Let's go somewhere we can talk. And we'll see what we can do about that weak arm of yours."

We decide to sit in the nearest place in my area which is a small bar owned by a couple in my building. Even after ordering a beer for Lucien and a club soda for me, the reality of the situation still doesn't register to me.

Lucien is more than my trainer; he's my safety and my shelter, my mentor and my guide. Four years older than me, I guess he's the older brother I never had, filling the empty void that my pathetic excuse of a father left in my life.

Looking at him now as he drums the wooden table with his long fingers to the country music playing, nodding flirtatiously to the busty waitress that takes our orders, I'm glad I feel small around him. Protected.

I take in the changes in his appearance that aren't too drastic after five months of being gone. His dark blond hair is longer and falls in curls over his emerald eyes. His once fair skin warmed to a deep tan, making me wonder where he took refuge in because it sure wasn't near New York. And although he's wearing a sweater, I can still note his wider shoulders and new muscles around his arms. Lucien never slacks.

"So where'd you go?" I ask.

"Just around, you know," he says. "I went down in Florida for a bit, my uncle knew people there that got my back. Spent a little time in Atlanta, shit like that."

"Does Rin know you're back?"

He shakes his head. "No, my train just reached here a little while ago. You're the first person I told."

"You have to tell her, Lucien," I object.

"Yeah, I know, I know," he runs a hand through his long hair, "I will, don't worry. But tell me, how is she? Is she good? How are you?"

We're interrupted when the waitress delivers our drinks. I take a long sip from the bubbly drink before speaking again. "Rin's fine, she's good. I still work at her coffee—"

"Yeah, I know. I kept tabs on you while I was gone."

My eyes widen. "You what? Why didn't you tell me? Wait, do you know about . . ."

His jaw clenches, and he circles the rim of his beer with a finger. "Yes, I know about David Roman," he whispers his name as if someone around us could hear, then grips my hands and deadpans me with a serious look. "What the fuck were you thinking, Sage? Are you out of your goddamn mind?! After everything that's happened?"

The words are now a robotic mantra falling out of my lips. "I didn't have a choice, I'm the only one who can do this."

"Oh, cut the crap. There's always a choice, and you made the wrong one."

"I can take care of myself, Lucien. And you don't get to talk to me about making the right choices. You're the one who got in trouble, and just up and left without saying a word. You were on the run, and you never even told me why," I snap.

Unfazed, he shakes his head. "Of course, I couldn't tell you why, I would've put your life at risk, you and everyone you cared about. And if I had to do it again, I wouldn't hesitate," he asserts in a low voice, "not for one second."

I know very well the lengths Lucien would go through to protect the people he loves, and I'm blessed to be one of them. I relent and shift in my seat. "Well, is it safe for you to be here right now?"

"As safe as it can get." He shrugs.

I lean in closer and lower my voice. "Are you still being watched?"

He grins. "No, I'm good right now."

"Well if that's the case, then tell me the exact reason you had to leave," I say.

"Sage . . ."

"No, Lucien, I need to know."

"Fine," he sighs. "You already know I left because I got caught dealing drugs, but what you didn't know is that it was with David Roman. Of course, that son of a bitch had ties and managed to get away unscathed. But he threatened that if I told anyone . . ." he trails off. "Anyway, I'm the only one who knew and he couldn't have loose ends, he had to cut them off."

"And so you ran away," I muse out loud.

"Exactly. So you can imagine my rage when I found out about your deal with—"

"How do you know it's safe for you here?" I interrupt him before he starts a conversation I'm tired of having, and he narrows his eyes in return.

"Just like that bastard has ties, I do too. For all he knows, I'm still in Atlanta. Plus, word's gotten around about his charitable work with you. No one would believe me now. I'm the least of his worries."

Something tells me that this doesn't completely guarantee his safety here, and it makes an uneasiness settle inside me. I try to swallow it down with a sip of soda, but the fizziness just mixes badly with my apprehension.

"Now," he smiles easily at me, and places a hand on mine, "about that arm. Were you slacking on training while I was gone . . ."