Zayn turned sharply, calling out in Arabic to his guards.“This is my son—the future heir of Lativa.Protect him with everything you have!”
There was a beat of stunned silence before his guards sprang into motion.
Zayn didn’t wait for Azlyn’s agreement.He didn’t ask for permission.
He’d tried that last time.
This time, he simply swept her into his arms—baby and all—and carried her to the nearest waiting SUV.
Azlyn yelped in protest, her hand instinctively cradling Griffin tighter.“Zayn!”
He didn’t stop.Didn’t look back.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a black SUV idling down the street.
His jaw tightened.
That wasn’t one of theirs.
All of his men were accounted for—some guarding the vehicle, others flanking the house.None were in a SUV across the street.
Zayn’s instincts roared to life.Whoever was in that SUV wasn’t there for a neighborly visit.They were watching.Waiting.
They were afterher.
And whether they knew it or not, they were after hissontoo.
The vehicle’s door shut behind them just as the SUV peeled forward, Zayn slamming his palm against the door frame.“Go!”he barked.
The SUV sped off, weaving through the neighborhood and onto the freeway.They were gone within minutes.
Inside the vehicle, Azlyn shifted the sling, pulling the baby forward.The child—Griffin—was still flushed and sniffling but quiet now, blinking in bewildered silence.
Zayn stared.
For a moment, father and son studied each other.The baby looked unconvinced.Suspicious, even.
Zayn could relate.
He wanted to touch the boy.Brush the silky dark hair.Trace a finger across the tiny, furrowed brow.But he didn’t move.Not yet.Not until he was sure they were safe.
Suddenly, the world outside dimmed.
Sunlight vanished as they descended into underground parking.
Azlyn’s voice broke the silence.“Where are we?”
“We’re in the private garage of the hotel where we’re staying,” Zayn replied, still watching her closely.
The SUV door opened, and a corridor of guards lined the path to the elevator.At the end, another guard held the doors open, waiting.
“We need to move, Azlyn,” Zayn said, gently but firmly.
“I need—” she began, then stopped, lips forming a soft “O” as her gaze darted to her son, then to Zayn, then to the silent ring of security outside.
He saw it in her face: the confusion, the exhaustion, the terror… all barely held in check.
He reached out, his hand finding her arm, grounding her.
