I smiled, but just barely. “Seriously, I want you to keep her safe if it comes to that.”
“Well, how about I trade you this little babysitting service for some updates?” she said in a light but firm tone. “YouknowI like to keep a close eye on my club.”
I let out a rough breath. “No worries, I’ll make more of an effort to keep you updated about Xyst, and I’ll let you know about the girl. I haven’t pulled the trigger on her future yet. But I did start a war.”
“War.” Her voice sharpened. She knew full well how serious things were if I was using that word. “Nice to know, Nik.” She paused. “Take care of yourself, okay? Love you.”
“Love you too.”
The call ended.
I stared at the screen in front of me.
Lyla was asleep now. Curled on her side. Face streaked with dried tears. That little furrow between her brows was carved deep, even in sleep.
My chest went tight.
War.
Yeah, that was what this was now.
Not just with Delgado.
Not just with the city.
But inside me.
And as I sat there in the dark, watching Lyla breathe, I knew exactly what my next move would be.
The decision was locked and loaded. I just hadn’t fired yet.
Chapter thirty-three
The live camera feed of the guest suite played on the monitor above the one I was using for work. It had been a couple of hours since Lyla had fallen asleep, which had given me an opportunity to focus on syndicate business.
When I caught movement in my peripheral vision, I switched the live feed to the monitor in front of me.
She was stirring from her nap.
I leaned back slightly, watching her.
Lyla sat up, stretching her arms and yawning. She blinked groggily, like her mind hadn’t caught up with her body yet.
There was no panic in her demeanor, which was a good sign. Maybe she was calming her ass down a bit.
She rubbed at her eyes with the back of her hand and scanned the room—her expression wary, almost confused.
Then she rose to her feet leisurely.
She moved toward the bathroom and paused, turned back to the dresser, and pulled out some clothes.
I switched off the guest suite’s camera to give her a small bit of privacy.
When the hallway feed blinked on a few minutes later, she looked different—more awake now, clear-eyed and composed. She’d pulled her hair up into the usual crazy bun on top of her head. Her face was freshly washed, her skin bare and flushed from scrubbing. Without makeup, she looked younger—closer to her age. Wholesome. Pure fucking sunshine. And with nothing to distract from them, her dark blue eyes stood out like a stormy ocean.
The oversized navy sweatshirt she was wearing hung low off one shoulder, exposing the ridge of her collarbone, which I would have liked more than anything to have my lips on at the moment. Gray sweats hugged her hips. Fuzzy pink socks wrapped her feet in warmth.
She looked casual and comfortable, like she always had in her apartment.
