Christmas music is playing when I step into the Savage Reign living room, and it feels like some kind of cruel joke.
Not because the song is wrong. Who doesn’t love Bing Crosby, right? And it’s not because the decorations are too much or the laughter coming from the kitchen sounds fake.
It doesn’t. But this place does not reflect the hell this night has been. I look around and can not see any tension or worry among the Savage crew. Or the women.
I’m standing here with snow melted into my hair, gunpowder in my pores, and three years’ worth of sins stacked on my shoulders like bricks… while a warm fire crackles in the stone hearth and the air smells like browned butter, cinnamon, and something savory that makes my stomach ache with hunger.
I don’t know if I want to cry, beg for forgiveness, or ask Phantom to stop at the nearest gas station so I can run far and fast with my daughter.
This life is not for her.
My father made it very clear the second he found out his second child betrayed him like his first, he would put them in the ground.
Well. I did that in spades in his eyes. And if he finds out his granddaughter is the child of a Savage… there is no telling what he will do to us. It’s why I’ve stayed away.
But my brother needs me. I side-eye at Phantom as he talks with Reaper, his president. I hate being blackmailed, but here we are.
My brother has caused me a lot of grief, but family is family and Micah is only trying to do the right thing. In our father’s eyes, Micah is the only one of his children who hasn’t betrayed him and we all paid the price for his choices.
Now I’m paying again, only this time I’m paying in heartbeats and bullets and the way Phantom’s hand is still burning into mine like he has a claim he never stopped believing in.
Thirty minutes ago, I’m in his SUV with Kaylee curled up between us, fighting sleep like it’s a personal enemy. Phantom drives one-handed through the storm like he owns the road, and with his other hand he holds mine, thumb rubbing slow circles into my skin like he’s grounding himself.
Like he’s grounding me.
The whole drive over, my daughter asks a million questions in a whispery, stubborn little voice that sounds like mine but carries his calm.
“Why do you smell like smoke?”
Phantom glances at her in the rearview mirror, eyes softer than I remember. “Because I was near a fire tonight, baby girl.”
“Who put that scar on your cheek?”
She cuts a few syllables here and there like toddlers do while learning to speak that has Phantom smiling.
His jaw tightens, but his voice stays even when he goes to answer her. “A bad man a long time ago.”
“Do you know my mommy?”
The question punches straight through me. I stare out the window so she won’t see my face break or the freaking tears in my eyes.
Phantom’s hand squeezes mine. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “I know your mommy.”
“Are you my friend, too? I like friends.”
I can’t help but chuckle at that. “She never met anyone she didn’t like.”
He exhales like he’s been waiting his whole damn life to earn that title. “I’m your friend forever.”
“Shh now, baby girl,” I whisper, kissing her forehead when she finally slumps against my coat. “Rest. It’s been a long day.”
“I’m not tired,” she mumbles all the while her eyes are drifting closed again.
If she asks any more questions, my tears won’t be able to hold.
We pass through the parish roads like ghosts, the snow turning the bayou edges into a black-and-white nightmare. Then the compound appears out of the darkness the way it always does, like it’s rising out of the land instead of sitting on it.
High walls. Floodlights. Cameras that track movement. A wrought-iron gate guarded by men who look like they were built in a war zone and never learned how to relax afterward.
