Christian didn’t curse.Didn’t pace.Just stared at the wall while heat started crawling back up his spine.If Damian was embedded, the radio silence could be anything—mission blackout, comms interference, or just his usual ghost routine.
Still, Christian hated the silence.
He’d do anything to protect his brothers.But what did Damian need in this situation?Christian had sensed something in Nixi’s voice just before she passed out.Panic.Recognition.The way she’d said Damian’s name, like it wasn’t just a word.Like it was a warning…or a need.
Christian moved back into her room and took a picture with his phone.Not a close-up, just enough.Nixi’s face, half turned on the pillow, the oxygen line stark against her pale skin.He moved around and got a better shot of her entire face.Even so pale, with bruises already forming, she was lovely.Damian’s type?Or Damian’s enemy?Or someone he once worked with?
Christian sent the picture to his brother with a message:
EXPLOSION.NAME IS NIXI.SHE’S ALIVE.SPOKE RUSSIAN AND SAID YOUR NAME RIGHT BEFORE SHE PASSED OUT.YOU KNOW HER?
He hit send.
Still nothing.
Christian scrubbed a hand down his face, then turned to find Amka sitting, arms tight around her ribs like she was holding herself together by force of will alone.He crossed the hall.“You’re done here,” he said softly.
Her chin lifted, defiant.
May’s voice echoed in his head.You want her safe, get her horizontal.“I’m not asking,” he added.
Amka’s lips pressed into a line, but she didn’t argue.Didn’t snap back like she might’ve on another day.She stood without a word, blanket slipping off her shoulders, and walked with him through the exit, quiet and steady until they reached the cold night air.
Then she leaned into him.Not much.Just enough to tell him she needed the contact but wouldn’t admit it out loud.He gave in to his own needs and turned, lifting her against his chest.Right where he wanted her.
He didn’t look back.Nixi was safe for now.Damian would call when he could.But Amka was still breathing beside Christian.And she was his priority.
Everything else could burn.
Tika showed up like a storm.
Amka was halfway through peeling off her smoke-wrecked sweater in Christian’s living room when the front door blew open and the wolf-dog barreled in, all muscle and mud and eyes that didn’t match.
“Oh my,” she muttered, just in time to catch him before he launched all hundred pounds of himself onto the couch.
“Hey,” Christian protested, moving for the animal.
Amka held up a hand as she and the animal landed on the sofa.“No.He’s fine.Let him be.”
Tika barked once, sharp and proud, then dropped to her lap with a huff.His fur was damp, his paws filthy, and he smelled like pine needles and the wind.She ran her hands along his sides anyway, checking for wounds.Nothing but brambles.
“You didn’t call him home,” she said.
“I don’t need to.He comes home when he’s ready.”
She looked up at Christian.He was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyes shadowed but steady.That hit her strange.She stared at him, then at the dog sprawled over her legs, then back again.She saw them both.“You’re the same,” she said.“You and him.”
Christian raised an eyebrow.“Because we have different colored eyes and growl?”
“No,” she said.“Because you don’t belong in a cage, and God help anyone who threatens what you care about.”
Christian didn’t respond.But his mouth twitched like maybe he wanted to.
“And the eyes,” she added, softer.“People look at both of you and only see the wild.”
He almost smiled again.“You saying I need obedience training?”
The idea made her laugh, and at the feeling, her entire body relaxed.Finally.“No.I’m saying I get it.Would never cage either of you.”She went with her heart and said what she thought.It was all she had, and she’d give it to him.“Thought you should know that.”
