Chapter 28 Back at Crimson
JEREMY
The scream had been necessary. A broken finger to start. This served as a reminder of my seriousness.
Miguel was talking now. Names. Contacts. The amount that the Volkovs had offered was also disclosed. Where he was supposed to deliver the information.
Everything I needed to know.
"Please," he sobbed. "That's everything. I swear."
"I believe you." I straightened, looking at Luca and Nico. "Take him to the warehouse. Keep him alive until I can verify his story. If he's telling the truth, make it quick. If he's lying..."
"Understood, boss."
They dragged Miguel toward the door. He was still pleading, still crying.
I didn't care.
Elena stood in the corner, her face white. "Are you going to kill him?"
"Yes."
"Good." Her voice was hard. "He tried to rape her. He deserves worse than death."
"He'll get what he deserves." I looked around the apartment. "You can't stay here."
"I know."
"Marco can arrange a new place. Somewhere clean. Somewhere the Volkovs don't know about."
"And Amelia?"
"She's my responsibility now."
Elena studied me. "Why? What is she to you?"
Good question. One I still didn't have an answer to.
"Someone who needs protection," I said finally. "That's enough."
I left before she could ask anything else.
As I walked down the stairs, my phone buzzed. A text from my father: Meeting tomorrow. 9am. Don't be late.
Antonio was probably already poisoning the well again. Telling my father I was distracted, unfocused, weak.
And he wasn't entirely wrong.
I'd just sent men to kill Elena's boyfriend. Called in favors. Sent a girl back to the bar where she'd been traumatized.
All because I couldn't let her go.
My father would call it weakness.
Antonio would call it a liability.
But as I climbed into my car, all I could think about was the sound of Amelia's voice—terrified, brave, trying so hard not to break.
Under my protection.
I'd said it without thinking. But now I had to make it true.
Even if it cost me everything.
AMELIA
The car stopped. I heard Nina shift in her seat beside me.
"We're here," she said quietly.
Here. Crimson.
The last place I'd wanted to come back to.
Nina helped me out of the car. The familiar sounds hit me immediately—bass-heavy music, the low murmur of dangerous conversations, and the clink of glasses. Even the smell was the same. The air was filled with cigar smoke, the scent of expensive liquor, and an underlying aroma that was darker.
"Come on," Nina said, her hand firm on my elbow. "Let's get you inside before anyone sees."
Too late.
"Well, well, well." A male voice echoed from the vicinity of the entryway. The bouncer who'd been there my first night. "Look who's back."
"She's not here for you, Tony," Nina said sharply. "Boss's orders. Let us through."
"Boss said to expect her. Didn't say why she gets special treatment."
"You want to ask him yourself?"
He remained silent. Then Tony stepped aside. "Room's ready upstairs."
Nina guided me through the door, past the main bar area. I could feel eyes on me—customers and staff, all watching as we passed.
"Is that—"
"No way. I thought she was—"
"Why would Marco let her back after—"
The whispers followed us like ghosts.
We reached the stairs. Started climbing.
"Nina?" I kept my voice low. "What room am I in?"
"Not the same one as before. Marco recently cleared out one of the storage rooms. Had it converted."
Converted? "Into what?"
"You'll see."
We reached the top of the stairs. But instead of turning right toward the hallway I remembered—the one with four doors, the shared bathroom, the room where I'd slept that first night—Nina turned left.
"There's another hallway?" I asked.
"Used to be storage and Marco's private office. He moved some things around." She stopped. "Here. Your room."
A key turned in a lock. A door opened.
Nina led me inside.
The first thing I noticed was the space. It was bigger than my previous room. Much bigger.
"Bed's against the far wall," Nina said, guiding me forward. "It's a queen-size bed, not the narrow single from before." Dresser to your right. Closet left. She pulled me gently to the left, indicating that through that door was a private bathroom. The shower, sink, and toilet are all yours for now. All yours."
I stopped walking. "Private bathroom?"
"Yeah. En suite. Marco had it installed this afternoon."
"Why?" I whispered. "Why would he do all this?"
Nina was quiet for a moment. "Because Santoro asked him to. And when a Santoro asks for something, especially for someone under their protection, you don't cut corners."
Under his protection.
Those words again. The words carried a weight of meaning that I struggled to comprehend.
"Nina, I don't—"
The hallway was filled with multiple sets of footsteps and voices.
"Did you see her come in?" Jade's voice was sharp and bitter.
"Yeah, I saw." Another girl. Ashley, maybe." Nina took her upstairs."
"Why would Marco let her back? After what we—" Jade stopped abruptly.
"Maybe Marco doesn't know what we did."
"He knows. Everyone knows." A third voice joined the chorus. Quieter. "But she's got protection now. Santoro protection."
Then Jade's voice became lower and more dangerous. "What does that mean?"
"It means she's untouchable, you idiot. It means if you so much as look at her wrong, you'll answer to Jeremy Santoro himself."
"That's bullshit. Why would a Santoro care about some blind—"
"I don't know and I don't care. I just know Marco pulled me aside an hour ago and said if any of us causes problems for the new girl, we're out. Not just fired. Out. This means we will be left homeless and without any possessions.
"He wouldn't—"
"He would. These aren't his rules. They're Santoro's rules."
The footsteps moved away. But I could still hear rage and scared whispers.
Nina closed my door quietly. "They'll leave you alone now."
"They're afraid of me."
"They're afraid of him." Nina moved to what I assumed was the dresser. I heard drawers opening. "Marco had some clothes brought in. Basic stuff—dresses, casual clothes, undergarments. We'll get you better things later, but this should work for now."
"I can't pay for any of this."
"You're not paying. Santoro is."
"Why?" The question burst out of me. "Why is he doing all this? He doesn't even know me."
Nina sat down on what I assumed was the bed. The mattress dipped. "Sit," she said, patting down the bed
I found my way over carefully and sat beside her.
"I don't know the whole story," Nina said. "But from what I've gathered, you two have met before. More than once."
"Twice," I admitted quietly. "He pulled me out of a gang fight. Then I served him drinks here while he was drunk and he—" I stopped.
"He what?" she pressed me for more information.
"He kissed me. And I slapped him."
Nina laughed—short and surprised. "You slapped Jeremy Santoro?"
"I didn't know who he was! He was just some drunk customer who—" I stopped again. "And then tonight, at Elena's, he was on the phone, and his men broke in, and..."
"And he came for you," Nina finished. "Despite the fact that getting involved with you complicates his life. Despite his family pressuring him about other things. Despite the fact that caring about someone in his world is dangerous." She paused. "That tells me something."
"What?"
"Whatever you are to him, it matters. More than it should."
I didn't know what to say to that.