“You did,” he replied, settling into the chair at the head of the table.
His guards had picked up a bouncy chair for Griffin, but the little man was still asleep.And if Zayn was honest, he didn’t want to put him down just yet.It was still astonishing, holding this tiny creature.Griffin.Their son.His name was Griffin, though Azlyn called him “Griff.”It wasn’t a name Zayn would’ve chosen—but he liked it.It fit.
“What does that mean?”Azlyn asked, snapping him out of his reverie as she poured thick sausage gravy over the steaming biscuits.
“I saw you on television last night,” he said.
She froze, her hands suspended in midair.“You…saw me?”
“On the news.You were off to the side, but the camera caught you in the frame.”
He reached for one of the biscuits.A year ago, she’d introduced him to this strange, sloppy meal, and he’d been equal parts horrified and intrigued.But after those first few bites—shared with her in a tiny Chicago diner—he’d asked the palace chef to make it occasionally.Not because he missed her.He just… wanted to remember the way her eyes lit up with laughter at his disgust.And because, as it turned out, biscuits and gravy were pretty damn delicious.
She lowered her gaze, staring at nothing.“I didn’t realize I’d outed myself.”
He watched her, gently bouncing Griffin when the baby let out a soft squawk.
“Your Highness,” one of the guards said, stepping into the room.“We need to leave.”
Zayn stood without hesitation, abandoning the food on his plate.“Right,” he said, already issuing orders.
When he turned back, Azlyn was still seated at the table, looking startled and confused.
“Sorry, love,” he murmured, walking over and handing Griffin off to a guard who already had a baby carrier strapped to his chest.Griffin blinked, now just as startled as his mother.
Zayn crossed the room again and gently took Azlyn’s arms, pulling her up from the chair.“We have to go.Now.I don’t know what changed, but I never second-guess my guards.If they say move, I move.”
He met her gaze, holding it.“Will you trust me?Just for a few more minutes?”
Azlyn stared up at him.Zayn held his breath.
She hadn’t trusted him twelve months ago.And he hadn’t given her much reason to.
But after a long moment, she gave a nod.“Fine.What do I need to do?”
“Just follow me.”
The guard holding Griffin gave a sharp nod.The others already had their weapons drawn, tense and alert.
“Zayn, what’s going on?”Azlyn whispered, fear beginning to creep into her voice.
“I don’t know,” he said quietly, pulling her in close as they moved.“But these guys are the best.Whatever changed, they’ll get us out.”
“But—”
Whatever protest she was about to make died on her lips as the guards surrounded them, quickly ushering them out of the penthouse suite.
The elevator was packed with heavily armed men, all scanning the space with grim focus.
Griffin, now sensing the shift in energy, started squirming.His tiny head wobbled as he searched for Azlyn, his wide eyes blinking with confusion.He was only three months old—still learning how to control his oversized noggin.
Zayn’s arm wrapped more tightly around Azlyn’s waist.
He didn’t know what threat was coming.
But whatever it was, it had better pray it never reached them.
Azlyn moved closer, resting her hand gently on Griffin’s soft, fuzzy head.“It’s okay,” she whispered, forcing a smile.“Everything’s going to be fine.This big guy here is going to take care of you.”
