Her lips pressed together, but the sharp retort he expected didn’t come. Instead, she tilted her head, studying him with that relentless curiosity of hers. He finished the sweep of the suite, every window secure, every potential risk cataloged and dismissed.
Only then did he let himself breathe fully. Elise, still watching him, folded her arms and gave a quiet shake of her head. “You really don’t know how to turn it off, do you?”
“No,” Blake said evenly. “And that’s why we’re both still alive.”
The words hung between them, stark and undeniable, until Elise finally dropped her gaze, her fingers brushing along the polished wood of the table beside her. For once, she didn’t argue.
And then, Elise’s voice cut through the silence, sharp and stubborn. “No one’s tried to kill me yet. I mean, not here.”
He turned, the words hitting a nerve. Her chin was lifted in defiance, but she had no idea how close she’d already come. He closed the distance, his tone flat, cold with truth. “You’d be dead if you hadn’t left that shed in Antwerp. The one where the private investigator died.”
Her face went pale, the retort dying on her lips. “How—how could you possibly know that?”
Blake didn’t let her see the fight behind his calm. Jewell had sent him the video while Elise was in the library that afternoon. It was grainy street camera footage showing Elise and the PI entering the shack and then the investigator leaving it seconds before the place was engulfed in chaos. The men who weren’t down had hustled into the shed but came out empty-handed. Somehow, she’d escaped. Jewell told him about the old tunnels under the city and that she’d found Elise three blocks away from the water treatment plant on the other side of the bay about twenty-five minutes later.
“Street cameras,” he said evenly. “Antwerp’s covered with them.”
“And how did you get the video?”
“Guardian.” He shrugged. “Guardian has resources beyond your understanding.”
“Did you see him killed?”
Blake stared at her and nodded slightly. Enough that she knew he had.
She blinked, apparently stunned, and then moved to a chair as though her knees had given out. Her hands pressed flat to herthighs, her gaze distant, unfocused. “Sometimes it all feels like a nightmare,” she whispered.
Blake crouched down in front of her, leveling his gaze with hers. She looked small at that moment. He wasn’t underestimating her. She was still fierce, still stubborn, but shaken to her core. He reached for her hands, wrapping them in his, hoping to ground her.
“Nothing will hurt you,” he said, his voice low but implacable. “Nothing will get past me.No oneis more dangerous than I am.” He tightened his hold just enough to make sure she felt it, the iron in his words. “I am your shield, your armor, and your defense. Don’t ever worry about your safety. I am here.”
For a beat, she just stared at him, her eyes searching his face as though trying to decide whether to believe him. He didn’t look away, didn’t give her a crack to pry at. Because this, her safety, was the only promise he couldn’t afford to break.
And even if she didn’t know it yet, he meant every damn word. And no, he wasn’t going to examine the fact that he felt more than just duty towards her. Because he’d have to admit to having an attachment, or at least the beginnings of one. That was something that had never happened before and it would stay hidden.
For a long moment, she just sat there, her eyes locked on his. Blake held her gaze, steady and unyielding, letting her see the truth in his vow. He expected pushback. Some sharp words or that stubborn streak flashing hot, but instead, something in her face shifted. The rigid line of her mouth eased, the tension in her shoulders loosening as if she’d finally let go of a weight she’d been carrying alone.
Her fingers curled slightly against his, not pulling away but not clutching either. Just … resting there. Trusting yet tentative and fragile.
Elise drew in a slow breath and nodded once. “All right,” she whispered, “I believe you.”
He didn’t move, didn’t gloat. He just gave her hands a reassuring squeeze before releasing them and giving her the choice to move away. She stood, smoothing her palms down the front of her skirt, trying to reclaim some measure of composure.
“I’m tired,” she said softly, her eyes flicking toward the nearest doorway. “I think I’ll turn in.”
Blake rose with her, watching the way she moved across the room. She paused briefly at the threshold of her bedroom, her hand resting on the doorframe. For a moment, she glanced back at him, something unspoken passing in her eyes. He wasn’t sure if it were gratitude, uncertainty, or maybe even a quiet plea for him to keep his word.
He gave her a single nod, solid and certain. “Rest. I’ll be here.”
Her lips curved faintly, not quite a smile but close enough, before she slipped into the room and closed the door behind her.
Blake exhaled, the quiet of the suite folding around him. He ran one last glance over the locks and the sightlines before settling into his vigil. Elise might have softened, but that didn’t mean the danger had. And if anyone came for her tonight, they’d learn exactly how dangerous he could be.
Blake joltedawake at the faint rattle of the door handle, and in an instant, he was off the sofa and crouched in the dark, his senses sharpened, every muscle wired tight. He had his knife drawn and ready beside him.
In his earpiece, Con’s low voice cut through the silence. “Two bogies outside your door. No weapons drawn that I can see. Move fast.”
Blake didn’t answer. He slid to the door, hand hovering over the latch. The handle twisted again, this time harder. Blake yanked the door open and exploded into the hall.
