Aurelio studied him for a long moment. “Luca was moving information. Someone had given him access to names, routes, accounts. Enough to burn your empire and mine. I believed he was working alone.”
“Brin said he wasn’t.”
“Yes,” Aurelio said quietly. “That is inconvenient.”
“Inconvenient?” Cormack repeated.
Aurelio’s eyes chilled. “Do not pretend innocence. Brin Holloway worked in your club. She heard things. Saw things. Men underestimate women who pour drinks.”
Cormack’s jaw tightened.
Brin had never been stupid. That was one of the first things he had noticed about her. She remembered everything. Who tipped in cash. Who lied badly. Who used false names and forgot them after whiskey.
He had thought sending her away would keep her safe.
Now he understood that he had not sent her out of danger. He had sent her into it alone.
A knock came at the door.
Dr. Mehta entered, tired but alert.
“Ms. Holloway is conscious for brief intervals. She’s asking for you.”
Cormack’s breath caught. “Me?”
“Yes. But only you.”
Yara laughed bitterly. “How romantic.”
Cormack ignored her and followed the doctor out.
In the ICU, Brin lay pale beneath a tangle of tubes and wires. Her hair had been brushed back from her face. Without the anger she usually wore like armor, she looked painfully young.
Cormack approached the bed.
“Brin.”
Her lashes fluttered.
For a moment, she looked at him the way she had before everything broke.
Then pain sharpened her gaze.
“You came,” she whispered.
“Yes.”
“Too late.”
The words were quiet.
They still struck hard enough to make him close his eyes.
“I know,” he said.
Her lips trembled. “Baby?”
“She’s alive. Strong.”
A tear slipped from the corner of Brin’s eye.
“Don’t let them take her.”
Cormack leaned closer. “Who?”
Her fingers twitched against the blanket. He took her hand carefully, afraid she might pull away.
She didn’t.
“Not Luca alone,” she breathed again. “Yara.”
Cormack froze.
Brin’s grip tightened with surprising force.
“Yara gave him the files.”
PART 5 — The Lover Who Carried a Knife Behind Her Smile
Cormack left the ICU with Brin’s words burning through him.
Yara.
Not Aurelio.
Not Luca alone.
Yara.
He found her in the maternity corridor, staring through the glass at the baby. The sight should have softened something in him.
It didn’t.
She turned when she sensed him.
“Is she dead?” Yara asked.
Cormack stopped three feet away.
Royce shifted behind him.
“No,” Cormack said. “Disappointed?”
Her face changed too quickly.
There it was.
A crack.
A flicker of panic behind the diamonds and perfume.
“Don’t be disgusting.”
“Brin says you gave Luca the files.”
Yara went completely still.
For half a second, the hospital seemed to hold its breath.
Then she laughed.
“You believe her? The bartender? The woman who trapped you with a baby?”
Cormack’s voice dropped. “Choose your next words carefully.”
Yara stepped toward him. “I was supposed to marry you.”
“No.”
“Yes,” she hissed. “My father wanted the alliance. You wanted peace. I was supposed to be the woman standing beside you when Chicago bowed its head.”
“You were a deal.”
Her eyes glistened, but the tears were not soft.
They were furious.
“And she was what? Love?”
Cormack said nothing.
That was answer enough.
Yara’s mouth twisted.
“I gave Luca nothing that wasn’t already dying,” she said. “Your empire is rotten. My father is old. Men like you build kingdoms out of fear and then act surprised when someone younger learns the map.”
“Where is Luca?”
“Gone.”
Cormack stepped closer. “Where?”
Yara smiled then, and it looked heartbreakingly beautiful and utterly vicious.
“Ask your precious Brin. She knew more than she told you.”
Before Cormack could respond, Aurelio appeared at the end of the corridor. His expression was no longer calm.
“Yara,” he said.
