Charles stares at the notification for a long moment. Then he pours himself scotch from the cabin bar, drinks half in one swallow.
“I should be angry,” he says finally. “I should be furious that my three best friends have been in love with my sister for years and nobody told me. That two of you are the fathers of my nephews and I’m finding out like this.”
“Are you?” I ask, pulling my eyes away from the screens to look at him directly. “Angry?”
“I’m angry you didn’t trust me enough to tell me,” Charles says. “But Parker’s an adult. She makes her own choices. And honestly?” He finishes the scotch. “I’ve already said I’d rather her be with you three—people I know will die protecting her and those boys—than with someone like Ryan who sees her as a strategic alliance and a way to climb the power structure.”
Something in my chest loosens slightly. Not complete acceptance, but acknowledgment. Permission, maybe. Or at least the absence of active opposition.
“But we’re talking about this later,” Charles adds, his voice going hard. “About how this affects the organization and what happens when—if—this becomes public knowledge.”
“Why?” Silas asks, “It’s not like we can’t do our jobs and be with Parker.”
“No, it is like that,” Charles leans back and looks at each of us. “How can I ask you three to put your lives on the line knowing it’s Parker, Liam, and Noah who are waiting for you to come home?”
Well, fuck.
He takes a breath, shaking his head. “I’m not saying everything has to change, but I’m saying we need to have a longer discussion. One that includes Parker so we can operate effectively. Understood?”
“Understood,” all three of us say.
50
PARKER
My head is pounding.
That’s the first thing I’m aware of. A dull, throbbing ache that radiates from the base of my skull up through my temples. The second thing is the zip ties cutting into my wrists, binding them behind what feels like a wooden chair.
The third thing is panic.
The boys.
My heart starts racing, adrenaline cutting through the fog of whatever drugs are still in my system. Noah and Liam. Are they safe? Did someone go after them? Did Ryan somehow get to them while I was unconscious?
No. No, they’re at Maria’s estate. With Mom. With Sienna. With Jimmy and Lottie. Protected by Maria’s security, by Charles’s resources, by everyone who matters.
They’re safe.
I force myself to breathe. In through my nose, out through my mouth. Focus. Assess. Don’t spiral.
I’m in a room. Nice room, actually. Hardwood floors, exposed beam ceiling, large windows showing mountain views. A rental property, maybe. Definitely not a warehouse or some horror movie basement. Whoever took me wants me conscious and relatively comfortable.
Which means they want something.
I try to piece together what happened. Marcus was driving me to the tarmac. We were talking about the boys, about how excited they’d be when I got back from Asheville. Then another car, swerving into our lane, the sickening crunch of metal on metal as we were T-boned at the intersection.
Marcus tried to swerve. I remember his hands jerking the wheel, his voice shouting something I couldn’t make out over the sound of the crash.
Then someone at my door. Concerned voice asking if I was okay, if I needed help. I was disoriented, the airbag had deployed, my head was spinning, and this person seemed so helpful, so genuine.
And then nothing. Darkness. Must have drugged me. Needle or cloth over my face, I can’t remember which.
Stupid. So fucking stupid.
I left my children. Left them safe at Maria’s estate because I trusted a video call. Because I saw Cal’s face on my phone screen, heard his voice, heard Jace and Silas in the background. Because they told me Ryan and Aria were handled, that there was a meeting in Asheville, that Charles wanted me there.
Except it wasn’t them.
