"Another message from Dominic's people." His voice is ice. "More specific this time. They know where you are. They know I'm the one keeping you here." A pause. "They want you back within twenty-four hours, or they're coming to get you themselves."
The words land like stones in my stomach.
"Twenty-four hours," I repeat. My fingers find a loose thread on my jeans and twist. "And then what?"
"Then he sends people to collect you."
"People." My stomach drops. "You mean?—"
"The kind you don't want showing up at your door."
He's across the kitchen before I can blink, his hands finding my arms—firm, not rough, but certain. Grounding. The cold in his eyes flickers, just for a moment, and I see something underneath. Something desperate.
"I'm handling it," he says. "I'm working on something."
"And if it doesn't work?"
"It'll work."
"Grim—"
"I'm not letting them take you." His grip tightens. "You understand me? I don't care who he's connected to. I don't care what it costs. You're not going back to him."
I believe him. That's the thing. I look into those grey eyes—cold on the surface, burning underneath—and I believe every word. He'd burn the world down before he let Dominic touch me.
That's exactly what I'm afraid of.
The hours crawl by.
Grim disappears into meetings with his brothers. I catch glimpses of them through doorways—Vice, Knox, a massive man with a face like a thundercloud who I think is called Wolf. They talk in low voices, phones pressed to ears, expressions grim. Planning something. I don't know what.
I pace my room. Sit on the bed. Pace some more. Pick up one of his books, put it down without reading a word. My hands won't stay still.
Twenty-four hours. That's all the time we have. Twenty-four hours before dangerous men show up looking for me, before Grim has to do something that could get him killed, all because I was too naive to see what Dominic really was.
By late afternoon, I can't take it anymore.
I find Grim in the hallway outside the room they use for meetings. He's alone, leaning against the wall, eyes closed. For a moment, he looks exhausted. Human. Not the cold-eyed killer from this morning.
Then he hears me approach, and the walls slam back up.
"You should be resting," he says.
"I can't rest." I stop in front of him. Force myself to say the words I've been turning over in my head for hours. "Maybe I should just go back. End this before?—"
"No."
The word cuts through the air like a blade. He pushes off the wall, suddenly looming over me, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off him.
"You're not going anywhere near him."
"But I'm not—"Not yours. Not one of you. Not worth whatever this is about to cost.
"Youare." His voice breaks on the word. Actually breaks, cracking down the middle like something inside him is fracturing. "You're mine. And I protect what's mine. That's not—that's not negotiable. That's not something you get to argue with."
"Grim—"
"You're not leaving me." His forehead drops to mine, his breath ragged against my lips. "I can't let you go back to him. Ican't. Do you understand? I spent fifteen years making sure Inever had anything to lose. Never letting anyone close enough to matter. And then you?—"
