“Be home for dinner by six o’clock,” I said, placing my hand on my hip. “Don’t forget to wear a helmet if you’re biking there.”
“Yes, Mom,” he teased, grinning ear to ear.
Julian and Alistair stepped out of the office as Damian tugged on his helmet and slipped into his sneakers. He gave Julian a polite nod, then tossed me a salute. “Bye.” With that, he ducked out the door.
Julian chuckled. “He’s quite a kid.”
Sapphire’s gaze wandered upward, taking in the glitter of the chandeliers.
“Damian’s great,” I said. “Too much screen time, though. I keep pushing him to spend more hours with real kids instead of computer avatars.”
“Let’s get straight to it,” Alistair said, settling onto the divan. I stood behind him, resting my hands on his shoulders while Saph and Julian took the sofa opposite.
“Alistair, thank you for everything you’ve done for Julian,” Saph said, her fingers lacing through my brother’s.
“There’s no need to thank me,” Alistair replied evenly. “Julian, Jessie’s out of your life. Lester Harbor Women’s Correctional Facility will be her new address.”
Saph squeezed Julian’s hand tighter.
I spoke up. “She and I already talked about taking out the trash, meaning Saira.”
“I’ve agreed,” Saph said, glancing at my brother. “But only if Julian’s on board.”
Julian’s eyes hardened. “Alistair filled me in on the details. I want Saira Quinn to rot in hell, but not if it costs anyone.”
“There’s one more person whose career deserves to burn.” I turned to Saph. “Your colleague Raphael tried to ruin my brother’s life by going after you.”
“He failed,” Saph said coolly. “And he’s terrified Alistair will finish him off. He knows exactly who you’re connected to.” Her gaze flicked to Alistair.
He stroked his chin, thoughtful. “Want me to call Paul about him?”
“The guy played a hand in destroying my brother’s life. Show him no mercy.” I dropped my thumb down.
Julian muttered, “Pollice verso.” It was our old inside joke—he’d point his thumb down whenever I was in trouble with Mom. But this time, the meaning was deadly serious. No mercy for the wicked.
“You’re right,” Alistair said, pulling out his phone. He pressed dial, then switched to speaker. “Paul, it’s me. I need a favor.”
Senator McGrath’s voice came clear and casual. “Yeah? What can I do for you?”
It took a few minutes to convince Paul to end Raphael’s career. Once the senator agreed, Alistair slipped out when another call lit up his phone, retreating to his office.
Julian sat with his arm draped around Saph. “Ad Augusta per angusta,” he murmured, then translated, “Vee, you’re the eagle rising high, overcoming hardship.”
If only he knew half of it. But Julian carried his own wars. We all did. My thoughts turned to Damian.
“Alistair wants full custody of his son,” I said quietly. “The appeal’s already in motion. It’s a war with Saira—and Damian’s the one paying the price every time he’s with her.”
Saph’s cool eyes softened. “You’re becoming attached.”
“Damian’s my son, too. Not in blood but in spirit,” I answered. “He and Alistair love me. I love them.”
Julian pushed to his feet and began pacing, circles etched into the rug. Silence thickened until he stopped. “I told Saira to leave me alone. Peace for peace. She refused.” His dark eyes lifted to mine. “Her time’s up. She’s going down.”
Alistair
“Frank, I trust you didn’t call me about the weather.” I pressed the phone to my ear and shut the office door, locking out the world.
“Scotty, I’m glad we could talk. Montville State Statutes authorize peace officers to?—”
