The sun poured into the apartment through sheer curtains, soft and golden. Morning light had never felt so still.
Ava hadn't slept much. She'd paced the floor for what felt like hours, then stared at the ceiling until the early dawn began to creep in. Her thoughts were a mess — a tangled knot of suspicion, loyalty, and something else she couldn't quite name.
Vera was in the kitchen now, barefoot, pouring herself coffee like it was any normal morning. Ava sat at the edge of the sofa, waiting.
"You're not gonna say anything?" she finally asked.
Vera glanced over her shoulder, then brought her mug to the table and sat across from her.
"I said I'd tell you everything."
Ava didn't nod. She just stared.
Vera took a long sip before setting the mug down. "Alright. You want the truth?"
"I think you owe me that much."
Vera leaned forward, elbows on knees, fingers knotted together. "The truth is… I work for a system, a Mafia. I don't really know them. None of us do. The institution I work for is theirs. The mafia funds the institution, protects it, and profits from it.
No one can betray the system without paying a high price. No name. No headquarters. They just assign you clients, and in return, you get money and power."
Ava blinked. "What kind of clients?"
"Men. Mostly rich, arrogant ones. The kind who think they can buy anything — women, silence, loyalty." Vera shrugged. "They're the easiest ones to take down."
"You scam them?" Ava's voice was low.
"I con them. Yes." Vera didn't flinch. "Fake investment deals, blackmail setups, romance stings, inheritance lies. Whatever fits the mark."
Ava sat back slowly. "And they don't know?"
"Of course not. That's the whole point."
Ava stayed silent.
Vera's tone softened. "It's not a game, Ava. It's organized. Controlled. The institution gives us targets. Backgrounds. Access. They fund everything. In return, they get half the cut. Always."
"What if someone runs?"
"They don't."
Ava didn't ask why. She could tell from Vera's eyes — running wasn't an option.
"And you just…do it? Over and over?"
"Yes. And I live. Really live." Vera's voice hardened. "I wear what I want. I eat what I want. I sleep without worrying about tomorrow."
Ava looked down at her hands. "Why are you telling me this now?"
"Because you're already in it," Vera said simply. "You came with me. You're in their database. You're on their radar. They know you know. So it's either you join, or you… die."
Ava's breath caught. "So I don't get a choice?"
"You do."
"Then I want to."
"You can. But only until you turn eighteen."
Ava looked up, surprised.
"They have rules," Vera said. "Strict ones. No minors. No slip-ups. No witnesses. You're safe — for now."
"And when I turn eighteen?"
Vera hesitated. Her eyes dropped for the first time since they started talking. "Then you'll have a choice. But…" She exhaled hard. "I don't want you to do it."
Ava's brows knit. "What?"
"I brought you with me because you had no choice. Because that man would've kept hurting you. But this?" Vera gestured around. "This world? It's not a rescue. It's a trap with glittery walls. The money, the clothes, the power — they're real. But so is the danger."
"But you're still in it."
"I made peace with that," Vera said quietly. "You haven't."
Ava folded her arms, stubborn. "So what, I just sit around for two months and then leave?"
"Yes," Vera said. "If you're smart."
A long silence stretched between them. The kind of silence that carried weight.
Later that day, when Tess was still asleep, Ava stepped out to the tiny balcony to get air. She looked over the streets of a city she didn't know, with people she couldn't trust, and a future that felt just out of reach.
Vera joined her, leaning on the railing beside her.
"I was younger than you when I got pulled in," she said. "Thought I was invincible. I wasn't."
Ava didn't say anything. She just looked at the horizon.
"I know you want more than the life you had," Vera continued. "But be careful who you become trying to get it."
Ava's jaw clenched. "No one cared who I was before."
Vera looked over at her. "I did. And I still do. That's why I don't want you in this."
Ava finally turned to face her. "You said they won't let me in until I'm eighteen?"
Vera nodded.
Ava narrowed her eyes in suspicion and asked "Then how did you get in if you were younger than me?"
There was a slight hint of surprise on Vera's face but she quickly composed herself and said, "The rules changed. They're more careful now for some reason."
"Two months."
"What?"
"I turn Eighteen in two months. I guess you've got two months to change my mind."
Vera gave a hollow laugh. "Or two months to prepare for the day I lose you to this world."
They stood in silence again, the air between them heavy. The sun was starting to dip. The city was waking up.
Ava wasn't backing down. And Vera knew it.
She could only delay the inevitable.
…
Later that night, when the apartment had fallen quiet and the only sounds were the soft breaths of two sleeping girls, Vera sat alone on the balcony. The air was cooler now, brushing against her skin like a warning. She wrapped her arms around herself and stared out into the dark.
She hated lying to Ava. But she had to.
There was no rule about being eighteen. That was just the story she'd spun to keep Ava from diving in too quickly. The truth? The mafia didn't care about age. They only cared about results. If Ava wanted in, they'd take her tonight.
And that terrified her.
Ava was smart, sharper than most girls she'd ever known. That's what made her perfect for this life — and also what made it so dangerous. She'd thrive. She'd shine. And she'd burn.
Vera closed her eyes.
She didn't want that for her. Not because Ava was fragile — no, Ava was anything but that. But once the institution had you, they never let go. Vera knew the weight of that firsthand.
"I need her to think it through," she whispered into the night. "I need her to feel like she has time."
If Ava rushed in, there would be no turning back. But if she had two months — two quiet months without pressure — maybe she'd change her mind. Maybe she'd find another path. Maybe… she'd stay human.
A shadow crossed Vera's face. She knew it was wishful thinking.
But it was all she had.