Chapter 222

Ella

Days had passed after Logan and I had confessed our feelings and had marked one another. My heart felt fuller than ever, but my mind was elsewhere.

Ever since we had solidified our commitment to dismantling the mafia rather than chasing his family’s fortune any longer, a resolute air had taken over us. Our days grew longer, and our nights were endless as we prepared our plan.

The first court date for Logan’s case was looming on the horizon, just one more week away. I had finished compiling Logan’s secret dossier, but Logan was still waiting for whatever plan he had concocted to come to fruition.

Thankfully, though, there was no word from Marina. My sister was still safe, at least for now.

But part of me wondered how long that safety would last.

It was a Tuesday evening, and I was poring over the case documents on my laptop for what felt like the millionth time. Logan was hidden away in his study; I had taken over the living room for now. It still felt strange to be living under his roof, but far less strange now that our relationship was no longer fake.

I was muttering to myself about the case files, however, when a voice suddenly broke my concentration.

“Ella.”

I looked up to see Logan standing in the doorway, his hands in his pockets. I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear as I met his gaze. “What’s up?”

“Can you come to my office?” he asked. “I have something to show you.”

With a begrudging nod, because I hated being pulled away from my work, I set my laptop aside and followed him.

“What is it?” I asked as we walked up the stairs toward his office.

He smirked. “You’ll see.”

Once we were inside Logan’s study, though, his signature smirk faded. It was as if, as soon as the door clicked shut behind us, the gravity of the situation sank in. I watched as he made his way over to his desk and picked up a nondescript manila folder, holding it up.

“It’s here,” he said quietly.

“What’s here?” I asked, my hands involuntarily reaching for the folder without even knowing exactly what was inside.

“It’s the switch,” Logan explained, his eyes locking with mine. “At the last moment in court, you need to replace your secret dossier on me with this file. It will look like you’re still playing Marina’s game, but what’s inside...” His voice trailed off, his blue eyes wandering down to the folder that was now in my hands.

Peering into the folder, I saw pages of meticulously gathered information. My brow furrowed as I looked at the first few sheets: they were all to do with my dealings with Marina. There were phone records, photographs of her visiting my office, even the photos of Miles that she had concocted.

But then it became oddly convoluted, and the information shifted away from myself and onto someone who I had never even heard of.

There were photographs of a young woman, foreign police reports, and something that appeared to be written in what looked like Italian, judging from the little bit of Italian that I knew. Further into the file, the contents became even more jarring: crime scene photographs that depicted what looked like a brutal… murder.

“What am I looking at here, Logan?” I asked, my voice trembling as I looked down at the photos.

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Proof. Harry and Marina committed a murder in Italy—they killed a mobster’s daughter. This file has all the evidence.”

My eyes widened as I kept flipping through the file. There were photographs of the murder weapon—a hammer. This was a brutal murder. I wondered how I hadn’t heard of this before, but then again, I supposed that if this was the death of a mobster’s daughter, then perhaps it had been covered up. Until now, at least.

“This is big, Logan,” I whispered. “It’s not just our fight anymore. This... this could start a war.”

Logan’s hand covered mine, his touch reassuring yet firm. “We have to do this, Ella. It’s the only way to end their reign and keep us safe. You just need to swap the files, and give your testimony regarding the hell that Marina put you through, and the proof of that is all there. Tell them that Marina has been threatening you and your sister, and your life has been at risk. The judge will do the rest.”

I nodded, my mind racing with the implications. It was risky, and it was a bold move, but it was undeniably genius. With the evidence contained in this file, along with a testimony of my own, the judge would have no choice but to act.

“I understand,” I murmured. “I’ll make the switch.”

…

The following days went by in a blur. The folder, even from where it was safely locked away in the filing cabinet in Logan’s office, felt like a literal weight on my shoulders. I kept wondering how this would play out, what it would mean for us in the future.

But there was no knowing exactly what would happen. That was out of our hands now; all we could do was give the information to the judge, and let Lady Justice take care of the rest.

On the night before the court date, sleep was elusive. Logan was in his office, handling some last-minute preparations. I was in bed, trying to get a little sleep before I would have to testify in the morning, but it was impossible. Rather than sleeping, I was laying in bed, staring up at the ceiling as my head whirled with thoughts.

It was as I was laying there, however, that something happened.

A subtle noise, out of place in the stillness of the night, jolted me out of my reverie. My heart pounded against my ribcage as I strained to listen. There it was again—a faint creak, as if someone was moving cautiously in my room.

Ema stirred inside of me, her instincts on high alert. “Someone’s here,” she growled.

Slowly, I slid my hand under the pillow, fingers wrapping around the pen with the hidden knife Logan had given me. I had kept it with me at all times ever since Logan had given it to me, even going so far as to sleep with it under my pillow every night.

With every sense heightened, I eased out of bed, my feet touching the cold floor silently. The moonlight filtering through the curtains cast eerie shadows across the room, turning familiar objects into ominous shapes. But I kept my senses focused as I edged towards the source of the sound, every muscle tensed for action.

But I wasn’t quick enough.

Before I could reach the closet, a figure emerged from the darkness, moving with a predator’s grace. A cold hand clamped over my mouth, and I felt the sharp sting of a needle piercing my arm. A cold liquid fire spread through my veins, and my world began to spin.

I struggled against the grip, my fingers desperately trying to deploy the blade that was hidden in the pen. But my assailant was too strong, too fast. Ema’s presence in my mind became a distant echo as the room swirled into darkness.

The last thing I remembered before succumbing to the drug was the feeling of utter helplessness and the realization that I was in serious danger.