“Of course, kitten. Whatever you need.”
I burrow my head into his shoulder. “I’m not hurting you?”
“I’m always strong enough to hold you.”
I tilt my head back to narrow my eyes at him. “Being strong enough is different from me not hurting you.”
He runs his thumb over my cheek. “You’re not hurting me.”
I shake my head, melting a little deeper into him. “That’s good. I would never want to make your wounds worse.”
“I feel the same,” he murmurs against my temple. “In fact, I think it might be my mission in life to protect you."
“Win,” I swallow down a lump, the emotion that hits me threatening to swallow me whole. I know how I feel about him, but the more he says things like that, the harder it will be to let him go. “You can’t mean?—"
“Your Grace,” Andrew, the flight attendant, steps into the main cabin. “Apologies for disturbing you, but Mr. Smith, that is Triston, is on the phone.”
He holds out one hand, and I start to climb off his lap, but his arm tightens, holding me in place.
Andrew brings him the phone, his brows elevated as he stares at us. “I know you’re a traitor,” I say softly. “Russians don’t take kindly to traitors.”
His eyes go wide but a smile curves Win’s lips as he takes the phone. “Watch out, Andrew. She means business.”
“Your Grace,” Andrew gasps, looking pale as Win takes the phone from his hand.
But Win waves his hand for Andrew to leave as he addresses his brother, “Tris.”
I’m only inches from the phone so I hear Win’s brother answer. “Winston, what the fuck happened? Why am I getting reports that there were shots fired.”
“Because…” Win sighs. “There were shots fired.”
“Are you all right? Were you hurt?”
“Both Katarina and I were shot, actually.”
Silence fills the line. It stretches for several seconds. Long enough that I start to sit up.
But Win holds me in place again. “Tris, you still there?”
“I can’t decide if I should ask why Katarina is with you or how you both ended up with gunshot wounds.”
“Katarina was hunting her father and her father found me. That should answer both.”
“Yes. Yes, it does.” Then he clears his throat. “How bad are you?”
“I’m fine. We both managed to escape with flesh wounds.”
“Is she…how’s she doing?”
“Furious,” I answer for myself. “My father managed to escape yet again.”
“Oh,” Triston answers, as Win switches the phone to speaker. “I meant more in terms of your injuries.”
I wave my hand like he can see me. “I’ll be right as rain in a few days. I’m more concerned about Sasha. She told me about Sver’s visit.”
“Sver,” Win growls out.
But I nearly miss it, because at the same time Triston chokes, “When did she tell you about that? I thought she didn’t know where you were?”
