Guilt slices through me.
“Sorry,” I murmur.
My phone buzzes. I check the screen.
Dad.
Of course.
How’s the Russian?
I don’t answer. I blame him for all of this. For not fighting harder. For letting me be traded. For calling it law.
I shove the phone away.
Micha walks beside me, hands in his coat pockets, his bald head glinting under the winter sun. He feels safe. Solid. The opposite of the chaos Gustav brings.
I glance at him. “Thank you for being like... a dad,” I say. “A good one.”
He doesn’t flinch at the comparison. “I lost my daughter,” he murmurs. “If my advice helps you, then I’m proud to help.”
My throat tightens. “I’m so sorry.”
“It is fine. Twenty years ago. Pneumonia.” He pauses, then adds gently, “Here is advice I would have told her: Do not be tempted by another man. Gustav will make a good husband.”
I stare at him, and reply softly, “How?”
He gives me a look that is both patient and sad.
“He chose me to guard you,” Micha says. “He chose someone safe. Someone loyal. Someone who would protect you even from him. That means something. Men like him do not choose lightly.”
I stop walking.
The wind stings my eyes. My leg aches. My heart feels twisted into impossible shapes.
And for the first time, I wonder if Gustav choosing Micha truly was an act of care... or a mistake he will never be stable enough to repeat.
I shouldn’t worry. Probably won’t see him again for weeks. Maybe months.
I frown, because deep down, a tiny piece of me still aches for the man I married.
Chapter 24
Gustav
Awoman in a thong bikini saunters across the deck. She is thick in the way many men like. She knows she is beautiful.
I didn’t want to, but I had to leave Peighton last night.
Council called an emergency meeting. So here I am.
Sunlight glitters off the Mediterranean, bright enough to sting my eyes. It smells of salt and diesel and too much money. I sit on the mid deck of a yacht that does not belong to me but to the Council, surrounded by men whose smiles are knives, pretending I am relaxed. My hands rest loosely on the arms of the chair, though the tension coils through my shoulders, through my neck, pulsing behind my eyes.
The woman smiles at me like she already won something.
I ignore her.
She keeps coming.
