Page 129 of Graves

“No.” The word slips out before I can think. I don’t want Sam to see what I’m really like. I’m ashamed. I know things are slipping out of my control.

After turning off the lights and locking up the rehearsal room, we head out to the parking lot. Fox is standing by the car, typing on his phone. When he sees us, he pockets it and opens the door for me.

“Want a ride, Sam?”

Sam waves it off and points at a motorcycle. “Thanks, but I’ve got my own two wheels.” He fist-bumps me and clasps me into a hug. “See you the day after tomorrow. And call me if you want to talk. Got it?”

I nod and thank him for the offer.

Sam is a good guy who always wants the best for the people around him. He was the one who hooked me up with Lucy, my lawyer. She knows Polish and European criminal law inside out, which made her way better suited to represent me than the lawyer the label wanted to assign.

During the drive, I stare out of the window, lost in thought. The conversation with Sam has shaken me up and it’s hard to organize my thoughts.

Why doesn’t it surprise me that everything always comes back to me? We started with Koh and how his ex wrapped him around his finger again. Yet the conversation ended with me, my choices, and my mistakes.

I get home completely wrecked. Since Koh left, there’s a void in my apartment that bothers me more than I want to admit.

With Koh, everything felt warmer and more comfortable.

Now it’s cold and lifeless.

But that’s a good thing. This way, there’s no unnecessary distraction keeping me from merging with the atmosphere here.

My pill supply is almost gone. I didn’t get a chance to ask Liam for more today. Since they’re not working anyway, it’s time to numb myself with something else.

My alcohol stash is looking pretty impressive now, so I pop a pill and settle into the living room with a bottle of vodka. My goal: get so fucked up that I sleep through the next two days.

I know that’s impossible, but I sit there with a glass in one hand and my phone in the other, scrolling through the news.

When I come across an article about Selene Rashkov, a well-known art gallerist in Brooklyn, I pause.

So that’s Koh’s stepmother.

The slim woman in her mid-fifties stands in a long black silk dress in front of a huge mural. Her posture alone shows she has class and natural elegance. Her brown hair is pinned up with a gold clip, and she’s holding a lush bouquet of flowers in her right arm.

To her left stands her son, slightly turned away from the camera, but I recognize him immediately.

Levi.

I google Selene Rashkov and quickly find what I’m looking for. It’s no secret that her husband, Boris Rashkov, is the head of the Rashkov-Drakos family, which has been involved in illegal business for generations. As a gallerist and artist, however, Selene has managed to build her own name. The article is about her role as a gallerist and how she supports young artists.

It’s easy to find pictures of the Rashkov-Drakos clan. Two faces stand out in particular: Boris Rashkov, Levi and Koh’s father, and a certain Kosta Drakos, who took over his inheritance after his father’s death at just twenty-seven and is only thirty-five today.

Finding anything about Koh is much harder—which reassures me, but also disappoints me. Under the name Koh Komura, he’s nowhere to be found. So I try the name Kohaku Rashkov instead. After all, that’s the name on the copy of the contract Fox emailed me a few days ago. And sure enough...

The first result is a newspaper article about his mother’s alleged suicide, followed by the tragic case of Jerry Bruckner, Aiko Komura’s husband, who was also found dead just weeks after his wife. Suicide is mentioned here too.

I don’t think much of it because I know the truth. Koh confided in me, which secretly makes me proud. Not even that fucking Luke knows what happened.

He’s in for a surprise.

I scroll on, past unimportant posts, until I land on an article that’s only a few days old.

“Mafia Heir Not Aran Graves’ Lover After All?”

“What the…?”

I know better and shouldn’t read it, but I can’t help myself. This is about Koh, after all.