After breakfast finally winds down, Laurie gathers Zoe and what I’ve learned is a bag of craft supplies. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go up to your room and get started. Loki can help us too.”
The corgi’s ears perk up at his name and he lets out an excited bark. He follows Zoe’s bouncing steps toward the staircase, tail wagging.
Dane sets down his coffee cup. “Time for an Irontrees meeting.”
Garlen nods and rises from his chair. “Upstairs. We’ll have privacy.”
Ellie touches Sloane’s arm. “Meanwhile, I’ll keep you company. We can have some girl talk.”
I hesitate. I don’t want to leave her.
Sloane looks up at me. “Go. I’ll be fine.” A small smile curves her lips. “I’ve got questions for Ellie anyway.”
Good. Let Ellie tell her everything. I don’t want any secrets between us.
I nod, but it takes effort to walk away.
We climbthe stairs to the second floor.
I haven’t been up here much. This is Garlen, Ellie and Zoe’s private space. There’s a lofted living area with comfortable seating and a short hallway that leads to three bedrooms.
We pass by Zoe’s room. The door is open, and I glimpse Laurie and Zoe already spreading craft supplies across the floor.Colorful beads spill from a bag. Loki sniffs at them curiously while Zoe laughs.
Garlen opens the primary bedroom door and we file inside.
The room is large and impressive. A king-sized bed with dark bedding, neatly made. A sitting area near the balcony with a couch, armchairs, and a fireplace—unlit now because it’s late May and there’s no need. French doors lead to a balcony overlooking the backyard. Late spring sunshine pours through, warming the space.
Through an open door, I glimpse an enormous walk-in closet. Ellie’s clothes hang alongside Garlen’s. Her dresses next to his massive shirts. Her small shoes lined up beside his boots.
This room tells the story of a settled mated pair.
My mind flashes with images of Garlen chained in the basement, feral with winter rage, while we took shifts making sure he didn’t break free and hurt someone. The desperation in his eyes. The way he howled for Ellie.
Now the windows are open. His bride’s clothes share his closet. He’s teaching at a human school, expecting a son, raising a human daughter and living a life none of us imagined possible.
Everything has changed.
And I want what he has.
Garlen settles onto the couch near the fireplace. Dane takes one of the armchairs. Aldar leans against the wall near the balcony doors, arms crossed.
I pace because I can’t sit still.
Garlen speaks first. “Let’s start with threat assessment. Aldar, what do we know?”
My cousin pushes off the wall slightly, shifting into professional mode. “Aldridge is still free and remains connected to cartel money. The State Department knows Sloane was recovered, but the details are classified.”
“Does Aldridge know she’s alive?” Dane asks.
“Almost certainly. The cartel would have reported the compound breach.” Aldar’s jaw tightens. “My estimate is one to two weeks before he traces her here. Maybe less. He has resources—private investigators, possibly mercenaries again.”
“He’s not going to stop,” I say flatly. “She has evidence that could put him in prison for life.”
Aldar nods. “He’s not going to stop.”
Silence settles over the room. And then Aldar’s mouth quirks as he abruptly changes the subject. “So. You moved her into your bedroom.”
I stiffen. “How do you know that?”
