"Thank you."
The garden behind the mansion is my favorite place on the property outside of the nursery and my workroom.
There's something magical about it. Not because of its loveliness but because it really shouldn't exist. Not in Manhattan. Not surrounded by buildings and noise and chaos. But somehow, tucked behind high stone walls, there's this pocket of green with roses and jasmine, and large trees that provide shade.
It's beautiful. Peaceful. A little slice of something softer than the world around it.
It's a sign of immense wealth—this much green space in Manhattan, but it's one I've come to particularly enjoy.
Leo opens the door from the kitchen, and I step outside. The afternoon sun is warm on my face. The air smells like earth and flowers and summer.
I close my eyes, breathing deep.
"Better?" Leo asks.
"Much." I move toward the fountain, listening to the water. "Do you ever wish you could just... disappear? Go somewhere quiet and never come back?"
"Every day."
I laugh. "Really?"
"Really." He leans against the fountain's edge. "This life isn't for everyone. Some people are built for it. Others just survive it."
"Which one are you?"
"I'm still figuring that out." His eyes scan the garden, the walls, always watchful. "But I know which one you are."
"What's that?"
"You're built for it." He looks at me with intense eyes. I open my mouth to argue with him. "You're tougher than you think, Sera. Tougher than Adrian gives you credit for sometimes."
"Most days, I don't feel tough," I admit. "I feel like I'm walking on eggshells, waiting for someone to die."
"No one does when they're in the middle of it." He shifts. "But you're still here. Still fighting. Still protecting your son. That's strength, and it's the type that this family needs."
I want to respond, but my phone buzzes.
Finally.
I pull it out, but it's not Adrian. It's an unknown number.
I almost ignore it, but that feeling in my gut tells me to answer it.
"Hello?"
Silence. Then breathing.
"Hello?" I say again.
The line goes dead.
"What was that?" Leo asks.
"I don't know. Wrong number, maybe."
Leo's hand goes to his waistband, where he keeps his gun, and his free one takes my arm. "We need to go back inside."
"Leo—"
