I chuckle. “No, I’m not a ninja.”
“Then why are you dressed like one?” she says, eyeing my black vest and combat boots.
I smile. “I’m Damon. I’m a soldier.”
But the other one—Ella, I’m guessing—pipes up with quiet confidence. “Mommy says soldiers keep people safe.”
A strange lump forms in my throat. “Sometimes,” I say, my voice rough.
Emma’s expression doesn’t waver. She leans forward, stretching out a hand toward me. There’s no hesitation in her movements, no fear.
My heart clenches. She’s fearless, just like I was as a kid according to my mom.
Emma holds up her stuffed unicorn proudly. “This is Sparkles,” she tells me. “She keeps the bad dreams away.”
I crouch in front of her, my hand resting on my thigh as I consider her. “Sparkles, huh? She looks like she’s seen a few battles. Must be tough.”
Emma giggles, thrusting the unicorn closer. “She’s the bravest unicorn ever.”
Mia places a hand on Emma’s shoulder, gently guiding her back into bed. “It’s late, sweetheart. You and Ella need to rest.”
“Mama,” Ella whispers, her voice barely audible. “Are we safe?”
“Always,” Mia says firmly, tucking the covers around her.
The word punches me harder than it should.Always.It’s what I promised myself I’d be to Mia once. And now it’s what she promises these two little girls who couldn’t be more than five.
The timeline clicks into place in my mind—our night together, her disappearance, their age.
“Are they his?” The question is out before I can stop it.
Mia stiffens, her back to me as she presses a kiss to Emma’s forehead. Slowly, she straightens and turns, her hand resting protectively on Ella’s bedframe.
“No,” she says after a beat, her voice cool but edged with steel. “Their father isn’t in their lives. And I don’t expect him to be,” she adds, her chin tilting slightly as she looks at me.
Her answer is calculated, her posture defensive. But it’s the way she keeps her hand on Ella’s bedframe, the way her eyes dart toward Emma when she thinks I’m not looking, that tells me there’s more.
I want to press her, to demand answers, but I force myself to be quiet. To think.
After all, Mia’s mother had dark hair, too, and genetics can be tricky. The girls’ resemblance to my family might just be a coincidence.
I can’t make assumptions.
Still, something nags at me as I take a step back toward the door, my professional mask slipping firmly into place.
She’s standing at the door, hand gripping the knob too tightly.“They’re asleep now,” she says softly. “I think it’s time we talk about the next steps.”
CHAPTER 3
MIA
The twins’bedroom feels impossibly small with Damon in it, his presence swallowing up the space. He stands near the doorway, his arms crossed, his broad shoulders looking like they could brace the frame if the house ever decided to crumble. His gray eyes track the twins, now asleep on their bed.
Even in sleep, Emma and Ella look dwarfed by him.
Damon doesn’t move closer. His hands are shoved into his jacket pockets, his eyes fixed on the girls. It’s the stillness of him that unnerves me, the way he watches them like he’s trying to make sense of something he doesn’t yet understand.
“They’re beautiful,” he says quietly, his voice low enough not to disturb them.
