"The optimal outcome." Through the bond Dominic's composure fractures. "You let my father break your ribs and you're calling it optimal."
"Niah and the baby are unharmed. Richard is in police custody with assault charges, security footage, and medical documentation stacked against him." I reach for Dominic's hand with my right. "The optimal outcome, Dom."
His hand closes around mine and the grip is tight enough to hurt but I don't pull away. Mattaniah's face stays pressed against my shoulder, his breathing damp against my hospital gown.
"You almost died protecting me." Mattaniah says it into my shoulder.
"I didn't almost die. I have two broken ribs. The doctor said six to eight weeks." I turn my head enough to press my mouth against his hair. "I'd do it again."
"Don't you dare." His fingers tighten on my hospital gown. "Don't you dare do it again."
"If someone comes for you or the baby, I will put myself between you every single time." I say it the same way I'd present a quarterly projection. "That's not heroism, it's just the math."
"The math." Mattaniah lifts his head to look at me, his eyes red and swollen. "You got your ribs broken and you're calling it math."
"Everything is math, Niah." I reach up with my free hand and brush a tear off his cheek. "You're the variable I'm not willing to lose."
Dominic's hand squeezes mine. Mattaniah settles back against my shoulder. The hospital room is quiet except for the monitor tracking my vitals and the low murmur of voices in the corridor.
"Call the PR team," I tell Dominic. "Father just handed us enough ammunition to ensure he never gets within a hundred yards of this family again."
Dominic
Thehospitalchairhasbeen designed by someone who has never spent fourteen hours sitting in one.
Amos is asleep in the bed with his torso wrapped in compression bandages and a morphine drip feeding into the back of his left hand. The monitor beside him tracks his vitals in green lines I've been watching for hours. His breathing isshallow, and every time he shifts in his sleep his face tightens with pain.
Mattaniah is curled in the second hospital chair on the other side of the bed, his legs tucked under him, his hand resting on Amos' forearm above the IV line. He fell asleep around three in the morning with his head tipped against the chair back, the bond marks on his neck settled into the silvering purple of scars slowly becoming permanent.
The room smells like antiseptic and Mattaniah. His pregnancy scent has grown strong enough to compete with hospital chemicals, settling into the air around him in a warm layer. I've been breathing him in for fourteen hours. It's the only thing keeping me in this chair instead of driving to wherever Father is being held.
My phone buzzes at six forty-five. The caller is Detective Morales, the officer assigned to the case after Father’s arrest.
I step into the hallway to take the call. The corridor is empty and smells like nothing. The absence of my mates' scents makes the bond marks ache.
"Mr. Hale." Morales sounds like he hasn't slept. "We've completed the initial review of your father's phone records from the past forty-eight hours."
"What did you find?"
"Your father received a text message at six fourteen yesterday evening. The message read: 'All three working late tonight. One guard after six. Floor empty by seven.'" He pauses and I hear paper shuffling. "The message was sent from a number registered to a prepaid phone purchased at a convenience store in midtown three weeks ago. We traced the purchase through store security footage."
"Who bought the phone?"
"A woman matching the description of your stepmother, Mattaniah's mother. We're confirming the identification now but the footage is clear enough for a preliminary match."
The hallway stretches in both directions, empty linoleum reflecting overhead lights. My hand is gripping the phone hard enough that the case creaks.
"She told him when to come."
"The text chain goes back further than yesterday. There are seventeen messages over the past two weeks between your father's phone and this prepaid number. The earlier messages contain information about your daily schedules, Mattaniah's doctor appointments, and the security arrangements at your apartment building."
Seventeen messages over two weeks, all surveillance data fed to the man who broke Amos' ribs.
"The messages reference specific times and locations." Morales continues. "Yesterday's text included the detail that Mattaniah would be present at the office and that the security presence was minimal after business hours. The implication is that the sender had knowledge of your routine and deliberately provided a window of vulnerability."
"She knew there was one guard after hours."
"The text specified 'single guard, executive floor, elevator bank.' That's detailed operational intelligence, Mr. Hale. Whoever sent those messages was familiar with your security setup or had help."
