They didn't sleep that night.
Arvi made Rose pack a single bag. He moved her into one of his safehouses outside the city—far from eyes, far from threats.
The drive was silent.
Not because there was nothing to say.
But because there was too much.
Rose sat curled in the back seat, staring out the window. She hadn't said a word since the photo. Since learning Ruma might be alive.
And that Arvi had known—at least a piece of it.
She couldn't look at him.
Couldn't speak.
Because the part of her that wanted to believe in him was fighting the part that remembered what betrayal felt like.
The safehouse was tucked into the hills, surrounded by forest. Cameras on every corner. Security at every entrance.
Arvi guided her inside.
"You'll be safe here," he said quietly.
But Rose just stood in the doorway, unmoving.
"What if she's out there, scared?" she whispered. "What if she's looking for me, and I'm hiding?"
"You're not hiding," he said. "You're surviving. There's a difference."
She turned to face him—eyes burning.
"You should've told me the moment you found that photo."
"I didn't know how."
"You always know how," she snapped. "You command men with a look. You silence enemies with one word. Don't tell me you didn't know how to tell me. You just chose not to."
Arvi's jaw tensed.
"You think I don't regret it?" he asked, voice low.
"Do you?" she whispered.
He stepped closer.
"I regret a lot of things, Rose. Letting you see that photo like that is one of them. But not bringing you into my life? No. That's the only thing I haven't questioned."
Her eyes welled up.
"But how do I trust you now?"
He didn't answer right away.
Instead, he reached into his coat and pulled out a folded piece of paper.
An address.
He handed it to her.
"What is this?" she asked.
"The last place Ruma was seen. Six months ago. I've kept an eye on it ever since."
She stared at it.
"This is real?"
He nodded.
"You can go," he said. "Right now. I'll send men with you. Or—" he paused, voice almost breaking, "—you can stay. Let me find her. Let me fix this."
She searched his face.
He looked… tired.
Worn.
And for the first time—afraid.
Not of his enemies. But of her walking away.
Rose sat by the fireplace that night, staring at the flames.
Her chest ached.
Part of her wanted to run. Chase that address. Search for her sister with her own hands.
But part of her knew…
If she left now, Arvi would shut himself off forever.
Maybe not in anger—but in punishment. His own kind of prison.
She looked at the folded paper in her hand. Then at the closed door where he sat alone, likely drowning in guilt.
And she made a choice.
When she knocked on his door, he didn't expect her.
She stepped inside slowly.
"I want you to find her," she said. "But you have to promise me something."
"Anything."
"No more lies. Not from you. Not even to protect me."
Arvi nodded, standing. "You have my word."
She looked up at him, heart full of fear and something even worse—hope.
"Because I can't survive another heartbreak," she whispered. "Not from you."
His voice cracked. "You won't have to."
And in the quiet of that room, with danger still circling outside, something real passed between them.
Not lust.
Not fire.
But trust.
Raw and bruised—but finally, honest.