She nods.
For the rest of the walk back, she stays close enough that our shoulders brush each time the trail narrows.
Chapter 25
Roxy
Ursa Arcane feels hollow tonight. Not the usual quiet; it’s rare for the estate to be loud. It’s an emptied-out quiet, the kind that makes you listen harder and feel lonelier. The main building’s windows glow softly, warm amber spilling across the gravel paths. Inside, only a few staff members remain: a custodian polishing the banister, a maid folding linens near the invisible laundry room, someone in the kitchen cleaning metal surfaces with the precision of habit.
Everyone else is out in the field. Mak’s orders.
I can feel that absence in my bones.Hisabsence, though I don’t want to admit just how attuned I am to him now. When did he become such a noticeable part of my life? Even at home, at the cottage, I’ve gotten so used to the idea that he’sjust down the river.That if I called him, he’d come.
Not tonight, though. He’s insisted on being out there with them ever since the death of his two men and the threat to his entire empire. Earlier I heard Lauren arguing with him; a ballsy move. Telling him that his place was to oversee operations, not get involved. But Mak’s gruff words, low with warning, made my heart pound: “To be a leader, I need to be willing to die besidethem. It’s what my father did. And it’s how I’veearnedthis respect, Lauren. Now leave.”
It’s late, later than I meant to stay. The last couple of hours disappeared into spreadsheets and maps and communications logs I barely absorbed. My mind hasn’t been cooperating today; every time I tried to focus on something concrete, it slid sideways into something else entirely. A memory. A touch. The sight of Mak standing between me and that full-grown grizzly, tall enough and solid enough that even the bear hesitated.
I keep replaying it—how he stepped in front of me without hesitation, how his arm brushed mine when the bear made a sound that felt like my death sentence, how steady he was afterward when I was shaking hard enough to feel it in my teeth.
It’s ridiculous. I shouldn’t be thinking about any of that. I shouldn’t be thinking about him this way at all.
He’s my boss. My employer. The man who signs my paychecks and tracks shipments of weapons across borders and calls himself a businessman with a straight face even when the truth of him shadows every corner of what we do. How many times do I need to remind myself of that?
But he’s also Andi’s father. And the man who keeps showing up, even when I don’t think I need him.
I needspace. A grip on my own damn sense of self.
I gather my things and head toward the back exit. Outside, the air is cool with early night; the sky shifts from cobalt to ink. Small lamps line the path to the employee lot, casting soft cones of light across the pavement. The pine trees at the perimeter look like silhouettes cut from black paper.
I take a steadying breath. Then another.
I can do this. Drive home. Make dinner. Tuck Andi in. Sleep normally for once. Reclaim my brain. Stop thinking about him.
When I reach the lot, my car is exactly where I left it—back corner, closest to the trees. While Mak’s “warriors,” as he callsthem, are respectful, I’m not comfortable enough to park in their midst—with the dipping tobacco, cigarettes, coarse talk. The whole area is empty except for a few service vehicles and Dima’s massive SUV parked near the front.
I walk toward my car, keys already in hand, when someone steps out of the shadows.
Eric.
He looks thinner than the last time I saw him, like he’s lost weight too quickly. His hair is greasy, and there’s a wild brightness in his eyes that doesn’t belong there. He forces a smile—strained, too wide—and lifts his hands in a gesture that’s meant to be harmless and fails spectacularly.
But most notably, he’s not wearing his uniform. Just ratty jeans and a t-shirt.
“Roxy,” he says, as if we’re friends meeting by accident and he hasn’t stepped onto The Bear’s property; practically a death sentence. “Hey. Been hoping to catch you.”
Every instinct in me spikes. “What are you doing here?”
He shrugs, trying to appear casual. “I was driving by. Thought I’d stop and say hi. Thisiswhere you work?” His eyes are wild, and a little too intense. Searching.
I hold my bag tighter. “Don’t pretend you don’t know that.”
Eric laughs then, a short sound that slides into something bitter. “Fine. I know. I know a lot more than you think, actually.”
He steps closer, and the lamps catch his face just enough for me to see the agitation in it—an edge I’ve seen before, but never pointed at me like this.
“Eric,” I warn, forcing my voice to stay level, “you need to leave.”
“I will,” he says, leaning one shoulder against my car door—effectively blocking it. “But first I need something from you.”
