“I’m… I will be. Maybe.” It’s the most honest answer I can give.
He nods once and turns to Damien.
“Two ambulances,” Alex calls over his shoulder without looking. “Keep the lights off until you clear the corner.” The semiconscious man is hauled up unceremoniously by the armpits, patted down, cuffed, and walked to the second cruiser. The broken-face one gets the same treatment. I catch a glimpse of his eyes as they take him away. There’s fear in them, but not the kind that learns lessons.
My gaze slides to the two bodies again. I can’t help it. Their faces are already getting covered by the snow. My stomach flips hard. I swallow it down. That man would have cut my throat. He would have… no. I erase the thought before it can fully form.
Damien feels the shift in me and moves a fraction closer; his arm wrapped firmly around my waist. “Eyes here,” he says, and taps his chest.
“Two down. They don’t need a ride,” he tells Alex. “Use the back route for the other two. No booking photos. I want them close.”
Alex doesn’t write anything down. “Understood,” he says. “We’ll keep this block quiet.” He glances at me again, a look that falls somewhere between concern and an apology. “I’ll walk you to the car.”
We move to where Orlov has parked, the SUV humming like it’s been there all along.
“Seat’s warm,” he says. It sounds like care, not small talk. Rare for him. He’s paid not to show emotion.
I pause before getting in, looking back down the block one more time.
Damien leans in and says something to Alex, something I don’t catch. Alex’s jaw sets and he nods once. It’s the nod of a man aligning his compass with someone else’s north.
A realization slides cold into my chest and sits there.
Those men in the back seat aren’t going to the station. Not tonight. Maybe not ever.
CHAPTER 34
CASSANDRA
The ride home is quiet.
I heave a sigh of relief when Orlov glides the SUV into the garage. My palms are scraped, my arm is throbbing, and my brain is doing the high-pitched buzz of adrenaline coming down.
Beneath all of that, a mantra sneaks in—baby, baby, baby.
Damien walks me to the east suite, his hand warm at the small of my back. Just inside my doorway, he stops. He checks the ribbon at my wrist and kisses my temple.
“Shower. Sleep,” he says. “You’re safe.”
As he walks away, I know he’s already planning the next ten steps.
I try to peel off the day with a hot shower and lavender soap. Afterward, I pull on my favorite sleep shirt and crawl beneath the duvet, eager for sleep to come.
That’s when I hear it.Clink.A beat then again.Clink.It rides the vent.
I could lie down and be a good girl, or I could admit what being “his” actually means for me. I need to know what it includes.
I tug on a pair of lounge pants and soft shoes and slip into the hall.
I follow the sound, finding a side staircase. At the bottom there’s a door propped open. I slowly descend, quiet as a mouse. The hallway beyond smells like bleach and old water. Somewhere ahead, I hear a male voice speaking low. Another answers through what sounds like clenched teeth.
I come to a windowless room, bright and simple on purpose. Poured concrete floor with a drain. Fluorescent lighting hanging from above. A small metal table. A chair bolted to the floor with wide straps and large, thick zip ties.
In the chair sits one of the men from the street. I recognize him as the E-bike guy. His left cheek is swollen, lip split. Eyes wide and mean when they can spare it, scared when they can’t. Damien stands in front of him, coat off, cuffs rolled, gloves on. Orlov leans against the wall by the door, face flat, eyes emotionless.
I step in before anyone can stop me. “Damien.”
His eyes flick to me, surprised, then a quick flash of regret that makes my chest hurt for reasons I don’t have time to unpack. He doesn’t bark. He doesn’t try to hide anything. He just turns toward me, his voice even.
