Page 121 of Shadow Of Sin

I read the text on his screen and my pulse jumps.

The number. The one I memorized at this bar and texted to Wolfe. He spoofed the message. He rescheduled the meeting. Even after I left.

My brain catches on that and won’t let go.

He spoofed that text after I left. After I found everything on his laptop and drove out of his life. The operation is still running. The plan I helped build is still in motion. And Wolfe is still keeping his promise to protect Sal even though I’m gone.

But why? If the endgame was always to cut me loose on Friday, why does he care what happens to my brother after I’m out of the picture?

Your brother will be safe on Friday morning. That’s a fact.

The thought sticks in my chest and burns. I try to smother it under the anger and the hurt and the image of that relocation plan with my name at the top. But it won’t die. It just sits there, flickering, refusing to be snuffed out.

I push it down deep because I have a bigger problem. The reschedule text came from Wolfe, not from Dmitri. Dmitri’s guys don’t know the meeting was canceled. As far as they know, tonight is still the night. They’re still planning to show up at this restaurant after close.

That was the plan.

And now, because I pretty much drove right into the lion’s den, I’m sitting in the middle of it.

That realization chills me bone-deep, and throughout the afternoon, it taunts me like ice water dripping down my spine. I try my best to distract myself by helping with prep. I run plates during the lunch rush. I pour sodas and smile at customers, and the whole time my brain is running a countdown to closing time.

I can’t leave. I know that sounds insane. I know the smart thing would be to grab Sal and get as far from this restaurant as possible. But where would we go? How the hell do I explain it? And what about the next time? Dmitri’s guys won’t stop coming around if they don’t find Sal here tonight. They will eventually get what they want. And next time Sal will be here alone, with no warning, and I won’t be able to stop what happens.

I trusted Wolfe to handle this. I trusted him with Sal’s life. And then I found a seventy-two-hour plan for erasing me from his world. So forgive me if my faith in other people’s promises is running a little low right now.

I can’t leave because I can’t trust anyone else to be here. That’s it. I’m not staying because it’s part of a strategy or a plan. I’m just a sister who refuses to leave her brother’s restaurant unprotected on the night somebody might walk through the door looking to hurt him as a way of punishing me.

The last tables clear out at nine-thirty. Marco says goodnight and heads out the back. I help Sal with the closing routine. I walk around the space, wiping tables and stacking chairs while Sal handles the register.

My eyes keep flicking back to the clock over the bar, my heart pounding so hard my hands tremble around the wet rag.

“You should head out, Sal.” I make my voice as casual as I can manage. “I’ll finish up.”

“It’s fine. I’m almost done.”

“You’ve been on your feet since seven. Go home. I’ve got this.”

He stops counting bills and looks at me. “Why are you trying so hard to get me out of here?”

“I’m not trying to get you out of here,” I say with a forced smile. “I’m just trying to do something nice for my brother.”

“You’ve been jumpy all day, E. I’ve caught you checking the door every five minutes and looking out every window. Now you want me to leave you alone here after closing?” He puts the money down. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing is going on.”

“Bullshit.”

“Sal—”

“No. You showed up at my apartment at two in the morning. You won’t tell me what happened with Wolfe. You’ve been staring at the front door all night. And now you’re practically shoving me out of my own restaurant.” He folds his arms. “I’m not leaving.”

“Sal, please⁠—”

“I said I’m not leaving.” His voice takes on a hardness I’m not used to hearing. “Whatever is going on with you, we’re dealing with it together. Because that’s what we do. That’s what we’ve always done.”

Tears sting my eyelids. Because he’s right. That is what we’ve always done. Through our parents’ deaths, my arrest, my prison sentence… through every piece of wreckage my life has produced, Sal has been the one standing next to me saying “we’re together in this.”

And right now, I need to get him out of this building and I fucking can’t. Because telling him why means telling him everything. The complete truth. And I’m afraid that confessing to my secrets will break something between us that I don’t know how to fix.