Matleon reaches for me. He helps me to my feet, and the moment I’m standing, he pulls me into his arms, hugging me tightly.
The weight of what just happened settles inside me, leaving my body trembling. I take a deep breath. His scent—myrrh and him—engulfs me, the warmth of his body seeping deep into my bones, steadying me. I hear him whisper,“I’m sorry,”but it could be my ears playing tricks on me in the aftershock. He has no reason to say that.
He lets go of me. My hand almost reaches out, instinct screaming for me to ask him tohold me for a few more minutes, but I stop myself.
I let him take the gun from my trembling fingers. Then he covers my palm with his, firm and grounding. He leads me toward the exit.
One of his men is dragging a groaning man outside, leaving a dark trail behind. A few others are escorting Dex away, shielding him as they move.
We don’t speak a single word on the way to his car. After settling me inside the back seat, he places his phone in my hand.
“Call your father,” he says, his voice is low.
Then he turns and walks away. I watch him through the window as he heads back inside the restaurant. An unsettling rush of gratitude tightens my chest. This is the man I wanted to stay away from, and today, he saved me. Again.
The tightness inside me begins to loosen,unwillinglymaking space for him in my heart again. I close my eyes and drag in a long breath.Not now.I won’t think about this in this state.
When I open my eyes, I push all thoughts of him to the back of my mind. I’ll revisit them later, with a clearer head.
I look down at the phone in my hand. Papa’s contact is already open. I press call.
“How’s she?” His worried voice comes through the line instantly.
“Papa…” My voice breaks into a sob.
“Iselyn. Thank God.” His breath sounds uneven. “How are you, little one?” he asks urgently.
“I’m fine,” I manage between sobs. “I was so afraid… and I couldn’t shoot anyone. I was so afraid to kill, Papa.”
“It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s completely fine, okay? Stop crying now. Aren’t you my brave daughter?”
“I’m not, Papa. I would have died if Matleon hadn’t come on time.” I wipe my tears with the back of my hand.
“Don’t think about what could have happened, Kroshka. It won’t help you. Think about this instead, nothing bad happened. And you’re the winner on both sides. You didn’t have to kill anyone, and you still survived. If it were me in your place, I would have thrown a party of Beluga Gold Line.”
I chuckle, eyes still wet.
“When are you coming back? I don’t think New York is a good place for you right now. This is the second time something like this has happened.”
“I’ll come back after two weeks. I have to do some very important testing of certain medicines.”
“I’m not comfortable with the idea,” he admits, “but I’m sure Matleon will keep you safe.”
I hum in acknowledgment.
“Alright, Kroshka. You rest for now and don’t overthink. I have to take a report from Conrad about who’s behind this attack.”
Conrad is one of my six bodyguards, he’s Papa’s man, he reports directly to him. But I thought my bodyguards had been killed in the attack.
“Is he alive?”
“He’s injured, but alive. Take care, Kroshka.”
“Okay. I love you.”
“I love you too.” The call disconnects.
I exit the contacts, and my heart skips a beat when I see his wallpaper. It’s an image ofme. It’s from last Sunday, when I was sitting in the park, beneath a maple tree. In the photo, I’m looking up, watching the leaves fall, a soft smile on my face, unaware, unguarded. I have to admit, it’s a good photo. But how did he get it?
