I stare at him for several minutes, then assert, "Well, we're going to need to figure one out." I veer onto the road and gun the Mustang, angry, guilty, and hating the predicament I'm in more than ever.
21
Valentina
Two Weeks Later
Brax is barely a shadow in my life right now. Not because I want him to be but because the O'Malley graveyard shift has swallowed him whole. He sleeps in scraps of daylight, collapsing for an hour here or twenty minutes there, his body stealing whatever rest it can before the night pulls him back under.
When he told me about Liam's punishment, he wore his cocky shrug, lazy grin, and the exact kind of confidence that suggests even the Grim Reaper would need to take a number.
I knew it wasn't good.
He just tried to assure me, "It's temporary," then kissed my forehead like there was nothing to worry about.
But I know what temporary means in our world. Someone always has to bleed, break, or stop breathing. Only then does temporary end.
So the nights roll by with more space in my bed than I want to admit. The silence that used to steady me in my condo has shifted into something hollow and unnerving. And the brief moments I do spend with Brax stretch way too thin.
I stay in my place instead of his, even thoughhe hates it.
"Your building isn't safe," he tells me again, standing in my kitchen with the collar of his jacket popped, his hair still damp from a cold night outside, the O'Malley tattoo on his chest peeking from his shirt.
"Safe enough," I counter.
He lifts one brow, unimpressed. "Security cameras in the hall. Two guards at the front. A steel door you don't even always lock."
I cross my arms. "Your place has a keypad you punch in with a smirk and a prayer."
He grunts.
I remind him, "It doesn't matter. If someone wants in, they'll get in."
Silence settles between us. It doesn't matter if we're on the Royal Council. The investigation into Kirill and Fiona's beheading is still active, and neither Brax nor I trust anyone outside of our circle.
We both know neither of us lives in a fortress, but safety is a myth served to children and tourists. If the Omni wants access to us, they'll have it, with or without permission.
So I default to my condo because it lets me breathe a fraction easier. I can see the lake from my windows and pretend the water can wash anything clean. My things are here, and being at Brax's only reminds me he's not there.
I hate that I miss him.
But I do.
"We need to get another place," he states.
"My place is fine and it's paid for," I declare.
His face darkens, and his jaw tics. "I have money, Minx."
"I didn't say you don't. But you also had your salary frozen for six months," I remind him gently.
His haunted expression deepens. He insists, "It's fine."
I don't say anything else. We've never discussed our finances. Brax insists on paying for everything whenever we do go out, but I don't know how deep his pockets go. Six months without pay is a long time. And Kirill put a freeze on all Omni payments until the investigation is over, so we're both living off savings.
"I know," I agree, giving him a soft smile, even though it scares me. I don't know how long the investigation will take, and living in Chicago isn't cheap.
He sighs, tugs me against him, then presses his mouth to the side of my throat. "Stop worrying, Minx."
