When I step back into the bedroom with a towel around my waist, Autumn is curled in the sheets, knees up, arms wrapped around them. Her eyes follow me, and fear sits there like a bruise.
“Autumn, it’s going to be fine. It’s just a meeting.” I pull my pants up, buckle my belt, walk toward her.
She frowns, lips trembling. “It’s never just a meeting, is it?”
I force a smile. “Sometimes it is.”
“Promiseme you’ll be careful.” Her voice is so soft it almost breaks something in my chest.
I keep my breathing even. No fear. No hesitation. She doesn’t get to see that part of me.
“I promise,” I whisper, lifting her hand and kissing the ring I put on her finger.
I step back, grab my white shirt, button it up, slide into my suit jacket. Her eyes stay pinned to me like she’s trying to memorise every inch.
“I’ll see you at dinner.” I wink and step out before I can second-guess any part of this.
Downstairs, I pull on my black boots. Kian waits near the bannister.
“We’ve got everything set up in the garage,” he says.
We walk together, our steps echoing. My hands curl into fists without thinking.
“You sure about this?” he asks.
“There’s no other way,” I say. “We need to know.”
He nods once.
Declan and Connor are already in the garage, armed and focused.
“Viviana stays here,” Declan says. “Ten of our men too. She’ll be safe.”
“I know.” And I do. Declan would die before letting anything touch her. Same way I’d burn the world if anyone laid a hand on Autumn.
I climb into the SUV beside him. Kian and Connor get into the second vehicle behind us.
We drive out, just the four of us and three guards. Kaden will meet us at the docks office. I told him not to come, but the stubborn bastard didn’t listen. He went to the penthouse to grab his gear and promised he’d meet us there.
“This shit needs to work,” Declan mutters under his breath, knuckles white on the steering wheel.
“It will.” I elbow him lightly in the ribs, forcing a grin I don’t feel. “Have a little faith, mate.”
Silence swallows the car after that. Just the low growl of the engine and the wet slap of tyres on night-slick roads.
The building finally rises ahead of us, three stories of cracked concrete and rusted steel hugging the docks like a rotting tooth. Warehouses crowd it on every side, black water licking at the back. Our “legal” office. We’ve used it twice in two months, and both times someone bled on the carpet.
Declan pulls into the half-lit lot. Headlights catch John Flanagan leaning against his Benz, Doyle beside him, Christian and Tiernan Keeffe already waiting like crows on a wire. Their soldiers melt into the shadows. Twelve, maybe fifteen silhouettes I can count without trying.
Flanagan lifts a lazy hand. He and the Keeffes disappear inside. We climb out of the SUV.
Kaden steps from the darkness the second my boots hit asphalt. No sling, no bandage, just a shit-eating grin on his face.
“Shouldn’t your arm be in a fucking sling?” I hiss.
“I’m good,” he says, voice flat, eyes already scanning rooftops. Special forces cold.
Kian and Connor stand by the door, waiting for Rurik and his brother. Declan checks his watch. “They’re late.”
