“This isn’t optional,” Kayne said, voice calm but absolute.“You’re coming to the safe house.Tonight.”
Leo scoffed weakly.“Kayne.”
“Leo,” Kayne cut him off without raising his voice.“They used you to draw her out.”
Chloe felt the truth of it settle heavily.It wasn’t an accusation, just fact.The most dangerous kind.
Kayne didn’t look at her when he said it.That almost undid her more than if he had.He was standing squarely in front of Leo, shoulders broad, hands loose at his sides, posture deceptively relaxed.Kayne was a man who could dismantle a room without ever appearing to move fast.
“You don’t get to argue with me about this,” he continued.“You’re moving into the safe house, traveling in our bulletproof vehicles, and wearing a Kevlar vest.No exceptions.”
Leo glanced at Chloe then, something apologetic flickering in his eyes.“Chloe.”
“I’m fine with it,” she said immediately.“Please.”
Because if Leo had been killed, if she’d lost him after already losing so much, she wasn’t sure there was a version of herself that came back from that.
Kayne finally turned toward her, and his gaze softened the instant it landed on her.He crossed the distance between them in three steps and lowered his voice, the way he did when the world got too loud.
“This isn’t about control, Chloe,” he said gently.“It’s about keeping your people breathing.”
Your people.
Not assets.Not liabilities.Not collateral.Family.
Her heart swelled so fast it almost hurt.
She nodded because words were suddenly unreliable things.Kayne had been protecting her since the moment he walked into her life, but this was different.He wasn’t just worried about her anymore.He was widening the circle and drawing lines around everyone she loved, daring the world to cross them.
She loved him.With all her heart.
Kayne glanced between her and Leo once more, then nodded decisively.“We move now.”
Anja was already on her phone, efficient and composed, setting things in motion.Leo rubbed a hand over his face, resigned but pale.Chloe recognized how shaken he was.
She reached for him, squeezing his arm.“This doesn’t make you weak,” she murmured, parroting the words Kayne constantly preached to her.“It makes you alive.”
His mouth twitched.“You always did know how to put things.”
“I bill hourly for emotional support,” she added, because someone had to keep the world from collapsing entirely.
Kayne opened the SUV door for her, one hand braced protectively above the frame as she slid in.The Kevlar vest pressed against her ribs again, no longer foreign or uncomfortable, just reassuring.
Before he shut the door, he leaned in, voice low enough that only she could hear.
“I won’t let anything happen to him,” he said.“Or you.”
Something in her cracked open.“I know,” she whispered.
And she did.
