Page 3 of The Fractured

Chapter 1

Dean

Present day…

The bounce in my knee hadn’t stopped since I sat down in the dimly lit interview room. The blinds were drawn, blocking out the view of the exterior offices, and the clock on the brick wall to my right ticked louder with every passing second.

Car grease stained my jeans and the creases of my hands, but I pulled the latter through my hair, leaving them to rest on the back of my head as I hunched forward in my seat. The cuffs remained on my wrists while I waited and waited. I knew it was a tactic detectives used to make perps sweat, leaving them alone in an interview room to mull over their story, but I also knew I had nothing to hide anymore.

So why is my leg fucking bouncing?

Detective Sergeant Mark Whitmore had made a point of parading me past his organized crime colleagues as we entered the level of their office and headed to the interview room. Not that I was surprised. They were all smug to know they finally had a gang-affiliated member in custody. I was the key that could further their investigations into Antonio Gimello — one of themany Caporegimes in the Genovese familyandmy boss —ifI chose to cooperate.

Blackmail. Death threats. Murder. It was all stuff I hadn’t done, but I was associated with the people who did it.

I dug my fingers into my scalp, tugging my hair at the roots as I stared at the dark gray carpet beneath me. There was no running from this. I was boxed in with two options, and neither of them had great outcomes. The first was to refuse to cooperate, accept that my past had caught up with me, and pack my bags for a lengthy stay in a state prison. The second was to work alongside my girlfriend’s dad, feeding him everything I knew about Antonio and maybe,maybe, getting some time shaved off my sentence. Either way, I would be going away for a long fucking time.

The door of the interview room opened behind me, and I slowly sat up straighter, choosing to keep my eyes on the empty chair opposite mine.

“Sorry about the wait. I had to organize some paperwork first,” Mark said as he closed the door. He then crossed the room, passing me as he loosened his tie, and tossed a thick folder on the table before taking a seat. He retrieved a small silver key from his pocket and motioned for my hands. “Have you had time to consider what I want from you?”

My jaw ticked as I lifted my arms onto the table. “Plenty.”

Mark unlocked the handcuffs with a click and a subtly smug expression on his face. I pulled my arms back, rubbing at my wrists.

“So?” he continued. “What are your thoughts?”

“That you should consider a career change.” I sat back and folded my arms. “Maybe get into acting. You’re a great liar.”

He chuckled but ignored my sarcasm as he flipped the folder open and brushed a hand over the top of his graying, dark brown hair. With a casual scan of the first document inside, where mymugshot from several years ago was printed in the top right-hand corner, Mark spoke again. “I can’t see a judge being very sympathetic for anything you’ve done.”

I rolled my head to one side, briefly closing my eyes as my neck quietly clicked. “What you’re asking me to do, the danger of it, I think I’d rather sit across from a stuck-up judge than put myself or anyone else at risk.” My eyes settled and narrowed on him. “If Antonio found out I was working with the cops, he wouldn’t only come for me.”

“Well, we’ll have to ensure he doesn’t find out.” He smiled briefly as he looked down at the papers and flipped to the next page. With a sigh, he clasped his hands together on top of the papers and looked at me again. “And neither will she.”

I scoffed. “Now you wantmeto lie to her?... Great.”

“Withholding information isn’t lying.”

“It’s miscommunication.”

“That’s nothing new for you,” he quipped smugly.

“I’m not keeping things from her again.”Things like this, anyway.

“You will if you want to keep her safe.”

The chair creaked beneath me as I leaned forward and braced my bare arms on the table. My voice was low and sharp. “If you wanted her safe, you wouldn’t be asking me to get fuckin’ intel for you.”

Mark’s eyebrows rose as he sat back in his seat. “You’d prefer I arrest you and send you to prison?”

“I’ve been to Rikers before. I was bound to go back eventually.”

He tutted, stood, and walked around to the back of his seat. “I probably should’ve made myself clearer in the drive over... Youwillhelp us with this whether you want to or not. We can’t afford to waste this opportunity.”

“You’re not listening,” I hissed. “This will put Lily in danger. Again.”

“Which is why she cannot know.” He gripped the back of his chair as he pinned me with a glare. “I want her to remain unaware and unbothered by any of this... Of course, this would be so much easier if you hadn’t gotten back together.”