Page 148 of Chains of Recompense
“Is it yours?” I whisper.
“No,” he says immediately. “Mostly not.”
Mostly.
My stomach twists, but he catches my wrists gently.
“I’m fine,” he insists. “I promise. Tatsuo’s dead.”
The words hit me like a wave. The war is done. The Yakuza are gone.
Relief crashes through me so hard, my knees buckle, and Raf tightens his grip, anchoring me against him.
I sag into his arms, a sob breaking loose that feels like it’s been waiting days to escape.
My father steps closer, one hand steadying my elbow. “You did good,” he murmurs. “Both of you.”
Raf nods to him, a look of respect passing between them that makes my chest ache in a new way.
For a few quiet seconds, we just stand there, wrapped together in the aftermath. Men shout orders. Someone laughs, wild and carefree.
“It’s over,” I breathe, gratitude and disbelief painting my tone.
Raf’s arms tense around me, then his body shifts. The warmth in his embrace cools—not physically but emotionally, like a door closes somewhere deep inside him.
“You’re right,” he says quietly, his voice flat, emotionless, and it carves a deep gash in my heart.
I pull back, confused.
“The Yakuza are finished,” he says. His jaw tightens. “Which means there’s no reason to keep pretending.”
The word slices through me, and my heart stutters. “Raf?—”
“You’re free,” he continues, turning his eyes to look out at the grisly scene before us. “You can go back to your old life. That was always the deal.”
The world tilts.Is that all he sees this as? A contract fulfilled? A performance wrapped neatly with a bow? After everything we’ve been through?
“Is that what you want?” I ask, my voice barely holding together.
He lets out a sharp breath. “It doesn’t matter what I want.”
But it matters to me.
“It mattered when you decided not to tell me I had a daughter,” he adds, the words quiet but devastating. “And it seems like your opinion of me hasn’t changed much since then.”
The accusation lands like a blow.
“That’s not true,” I say, shaking my head. “That’s not?—”
“You were ready to let me go on believing she didn’t exist,” he cuts in. “For years.”
My throat burns. “I know.”
Riley squirms between us, sensing the shift. I pass her to my father, my hands trembling as I let go of her weight. He steps back with her, giving us space but not distance.
“I didn’t do it because I didn’t care,” I say, my voice breaking. “I did it because I was terrified.”
“Of me?” Raf asks flatly, fresh pain flashing in his eyes.
