Page 1 of These Shattered Memories

T his was a mistake.

I shouldn’t have asked him to come. I shouldn’t have come.

But if I have any chance of saving Halle, this is the only way I can think of doing it.

All I need is a sliver of information, something to point in me in the right direction, and if it means bending on all fours and begging Rowan Vasilyev—I’ll do it.

My legs bounce under the table; the frantic tap of my heel barely audible over the soft jazz and the distant clink of glasses. The bar is sleek and warm, all trendy beige lime-wash walls and cozy lighting.

I look out the glass doors. October has arrived with a brutal cold snap, bypassing the soft chill of autumn and plunging us deep into winter. Outside, rain falls in slanted sheets, hitting against the windows and beating against the cars outside.

I’m burning up in my sweater, and not for the first time, I wish I had my gun and badge. I couldn’t use them, of course, but maybe they would make me feel less vulnerable around him.

“Calm down,” I whisper to myself. “He can’t kill you here.”

But he can. Rowan can do whatever he wants.

Just then, the door swings open, and there he is: Rowan Vasilyev.

Familiar midnight blue eyes, dark hair, and a face made from cut glass appear in front of me. He looks the same and yet completely different—broader, colder, untouchable.

My heart stutters to an almost stop. Our eyes meet and it’s like I’m suspended in time, the stars, the universe and all its inhabitants slipping away, like they too are afraid of whatever happens next.

I shoot up from my seat, watching him as he crosses the room like he owns it. “Rowan,” I begin, my voice sounding more like a croak. “Hi.”

His lips twitch, spreading into a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Hello, Alex.”

My name on his tongue sends a shiver up my spine. “It’s uh—uh-it’s good to see you.” As soon as the words leave my mouth I want to slap my forehead.

It’s good to see you. Nice job, Alex.

“Is it?” He tilts his head slightly.

He should terrify me. Not just because of our history, but because he’s the third son of the Vasilyev family—the family that has ruled The Snake, Senna’s largest and deadliest clan, for over half a century.

He’s the heir apparent and when his mother, The Head of The Snake, dies, Rowan will become the most powerful man in Senna.

But two years ago, I helped put him behind bars.

Back then, I was just a rookie in Senna’s Organized Crime Unit, eager to prove myself—the skinny kid desperate to claw out of the gutters of Canning.

My assignment was straightforward: get close to one of the Vasilyev brothers, uncover evidence, and secure an arrest warrant.

Even a low-ranking Snake member would’ve been enough—a warning shot to rattle their empire.

But I went for the kill, and I excelled.

Getting close to Rowan was easy. Pretending to be interested in him?

Even easier. There was something about him, something electric.

His charm had a gravitational pull, and I was no different from the others who fell into his orbit.

Before I knew it, the lines between duty and desire blurred, and I was drowning in him, making no effort to save myself.

I still hear the echo of the cuffs clicking around his wrists, see the flash of resignation mixed with odd amusement in his eyes when the officers ordered him to the ground. Every night since, I’ve told myself I did the right thing—that I did it to survive.

It was the right thing to do.

“Yeah,” I say, dragging myself back to the present. “It is.” I gesture to the chair across from me. “You want to sit?”

Rowan slides in, one leg stretched out, his knee brushing mine. I flinch, pressing back against the booth, my pulse hammering in my ears.

“How are you?”

He raises a brow. “You called me here to ask how I am?”

“I—” A thick lump forms in my throat, stopping me from speaking, but luckily, a waitress comes to my rescue, pen poised over her notepad.

“Can I get you two anything? The Yuzu Sours and Negronis are on special. I must say, the Negronis are my personal favourite.”

Rowan’s smile is quick, the same practiced ease that could charm anyone out of their last meal. “Is that so?”

Her eyes glaze over at that, and she licks her lips. She nods enthusiastically and when Rowan smiles again, I’m afraid she might swoon.

“Then we’ll have those and two shots of tequila.” He meets my eyes. “For old time’s sake?”

She nods; eyes still trained on him while completely oblivious to the odd tension between us. “Of course. I’ll be right back.”

As soon as she walks away, I look at him, sweat prickling my scalp despite the chill in the air. “I shouldn’t be drinking,” I say.

I’m not here on official police business but being anything other than stone-cold sober around him is a terrible idea.

He laughs quietly, making my throat hot. “A tequila shot won’t get you drunk. Are you forgetting all of our crazy nights together?”

How could I?

In eight months, I got caught up in it all. I forgot why I was there—the lights, the clubs, the intoxicating sex. I got caught up in him and two years later, I can still feel him in my system, embedded like a dormant virus.

“No.” I try to keep my voice level. “That’s not—”

“Why’d you call me here, Alex?”

I let out a calming breath. I practiced this part. I went over it in my car a hundred times, and despite my prickling scalp, I remind myself why I’m here. I’m doing this for Halle. Everything that happened between Rowan and I was a lifetime ago. Forgotten and done.

“I need your help,” I begin.

His brow lifts and, a second later, he bursts out in laughter. The rich sound fills the almost empty space.

“Wait, you’re actually serious? You want my help? What for?”

I cringe but I fight through it. “There’s a new drug on the market called Haze,” I say, “And I think it’s killing people.

There have been a few suspicious deaths reported, but there is no clear link between them except for the fact that they have gone into rapid decomposition faster than they should.

I need to know who is supplying it before more deaths happen. ”

Before Halle is sent to jail for good , I don’t add.

He looks at me for a long moment, eyes so blue I think I might drown. “I might have heard of it,” he says finally, but the waitress comes back, our drinks on a gleaming bronze tray.

I whisper a quick thank you. Across from me, Rowan picks up one of the tequila shots and nods at the other, eyes daring me. The slight tremor in my hands hasn’t gone away when I pick up my glass.

“Hm, what should we toast to?” he asks.

I stare at him blankly.

“What about happy reunions?”

That prickle on my scalp flares again. We both know there is nothing happy about this, but I hang my hand in the air, and he knocks his glass against mine, clear liquid sloshing slightly.

“Happy reunions,” I murmur and take down the alcohol in a quick swig, welcoming the burn as it travels down my throat.

In the weeks after Rowan’s arrest, cheap tequila and I became great friends until the smell alone made my stomach turn on itself.

“So, you know who is behind it?” I ask after I collect myself.

Rowan’s smile turns dangerous, his eyes narrowing. “Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. But the real question is, why would I help you?”

This is expected territory. No part of me was na?ve enough to believe he would help me for nothing in return.

That’s not how things work in Senna. That’s not how things work with the clans.

It will always be an eye for an eye here, and if you don’t have an extra one lying around, you gouge your own out and hand it over.

“Because if you do, I’ll hand over anything the OCU is currently collecting against The Snake,” I say, leaning in and placing my elbows on the table. “And you can be ten steps ahead when they come for you.”

It’s not a secret that Senna’s Organised Crime Unit is always building a case against the clans, especially the two largest ones, The Snake and The Scarlet Ravens.

And whilst I haven’t been on a case to do with The Snake since Rowan’s arrest, I can still access the files.

I’d be tampering with evidence if I handed anything over to him, but I’m way past the point of legality now.

A laugh spills out of Rowan; his eyes widening. “You’ll show me what your friends in the OCU have on us?”

I nod once.

This time, his mouth spreads into a grin revealing perfect white teeth. It makes him look more handsome if that’s possible and a lot like his older brother, Xander Vasilyev, a diagnosed sociopath, The Snake’s Enforcer and the last person anyone sane would want to be left alone in a room with.

“You think I don’t know what you have on us?” he asks. “The only reason you’re offering this up is because you think there is something I want to hide, but I hate to burst your bubble, Alex. Thanks to you, I know to bury my bodies where you can’t find them. You can’t touch us.”

My face flushes because he’s right. The OCU has never been able to pin much on The Snake or the Vasilyevs.

In the end, we could only arrest him on the exchange of a stolen artifact from some ancient civilisation, something I know was only there to sweeten a deal that involved millions of dirty cash.

Rowan only spent three days in jail, but since then, The Snake has been more careful. Any file against him or his family would be meagre at best. I know it. He knows it. I’m bargaining with nothing.

“Rowan—”

“Do you want to know why I came here?” he asks but doesn’t wait for me to answer. “I wanted to see how pitiful you still are. Do people know the truth about you? Do they know how you’d beg me to fuck you constantly? Do they know how pathetic you were in the name of being undercover?”