“You eliminated all of them,” I say. Not a question.
“Yes.”
“And you’re okay with that? With what you had to do?”
“I’m okay with keeping you and the boys safe. Whatever that requires.” He reaches for my hand, threading his fingers through mine. “They tortured you because you wouldn’t give them my name, and I made sure no one will ever do that again.”
His voice is steady but I can see the exhaustion in every line of his face, the weight of what he’s been carrying while I’ve been inthis bed recovering. He’s been fighting a war while pretending everything was fine whenever he sat in that chair beside me.
“Thank you,” I say, and I mean it. “For ending it. For making sure we’re safe.”
“You don’t have to thank me for protecting my family.”
My family. He keeps saying it like it’s the most natural thing in the world, like we’ve always been this instead of two people who met on a plane six years ago and have been fighting our way toward each other ever since.
A nurse brings a wheelchair even though I insist I can walk. Hospital policy apparently, and Dr. Hayes isn’t budging on the rules even though I’ve been walking to the bathroom by myself for over a week now.
Cassian helps me into the chair with gentle hands that were probably breaking bones a few hours ago, and the contrast between the violence he’s capable of and how careful he is with me makes my chest tight.
We take the elevator down to the parking garage where Declan’s waiting with one of the black SUVs that all of Cassian’s people seem to drive. He nods at me, asks how I’m feeling, then gets behind the wheel without waiting for much of an answer.
I’m in the back seat with Cassian beside me, his hand still holding mine like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he lets go. We’ve been like this for weeks now—him refusing to leave my side, me letting him stay because being alone means the nightmares are worse.
“The boys don’t know what happened,” Cassian says as we pull out of the garage. “Julian and Nadia told them you were hurt andneeded time to heal, but nothing about the Petrovs or why you were taken.”
“Good. They don’t need to know that yet, maybe not ever.”
“They’ve been asking when you’re coming home every single day. Nadia’s been bringing them to visit but it’s not the same as having you there.”
Guilt twists in my stomach even though I know this wasn’t my fault. “How long has it been since you’ve actually slept in a bed instead of that chair?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Cassian.”
“I’m fine. You’re the one who was tortured, not me.”
“You’re exhausted. I can see it.”
He doesn’t argue, just leans his head back against the seat and closes his eyes while still holding my hand. Within minutes his breathing evens out and he’s asleep, still sitting upright but finally resting.
Declan catches my eye in the rearview mirror. “He hasn’t stopped moving since we got you out. Taking care of you, eliminating threats, coordinating with Julian’s people. Man needs a vacation.”
“Will he take one?”
“Not until he’s sure you’re completely safe and healed. You know how he is.”
I do know. Stubborn and protective and willing to burn down the entire city if it means keeping his family safe. Our family.
We pull up to the Vance estate forty minutes later and Cassian wakes up immediately like he’s got some internal alarm that tells him when we’ve arrived. His eyes find mine first, checking to make sure I’m okay before he even registers where we are.
“We’re home,” I tell him.
Home. Not the medical facility where I’ve been for six weeks, not the safe house in Ireland where I spent five years hiding, but here at the estate where Julian and Nadia have been taking care of my sons while I recovered.
Where my family is.
Nadia must have been watching for us because she opens the front door before we even make it up the steps, and behind her I can see two small figures trying to push past her legs to get outside.
