“He will protect this child,” I continue. “I know the world he lives in looks dangerous from the outside. And sometimes it is.”
“That’s exactly what concerns me.”
“I understand, Mom. I do.” I pause, choosing my words carefully. “But Kiren doesn’t treat danger the way most people do.”
She tilts her head slightly. “What do you mean?”
“He prepares for it.”
I picture the way he moves through every situation, always aware and thinking three steps ahead.
“He doesn’t ignore threats,” I explain. “He anticipates them.”
My mother folds her arms loosely. “That still sounds exhausting… and dangerous.”
“It can be.” I release a slow breath. “But it also means he doesn’t leave things to chance.”
The dryer thumps softly behind us as it changes direction. I glance toward the door briefly, picturing Kiren sitting calmly in the kitchen, probably speaking quietly with Ethan about something mundane like sports or work.
“He would burn the world down before letting anything happen to this baby,” I add firmly.
My mother hears the certainty in them. Her eyes linger on my face for several seconds. “You’re sure about him?”
“Yes.”
“And about this life?”
I think about the past few weeks. About fear, violence, and the strange calm that exists inside Kiren’s presence, even when the world around him turns chaotic.
“Yes, I’m sure.” I answer honestly.
She watches me a little longer, and something in her expression softens. Not because her worries have disappeared, but because she recognizes the look in my eyes. She’s seen it before. She saw it when I decided to become a doctor. She saw it when I chose the hospital job that kept me awake for thirty hours at a time. She saw it when I refused to give up on patients everyone else believed were already lost. My mother has always known the moment my mind is made up.
She reaches out and takes my hands again. “Well,” she murmurs. “I suppose mothers don’t get to choose the roads their children walk.”
Her thumbs brush gently across my knuckles. “But we can pray for them.”
Her eyes move toward the kitchen where Kiren waits. Then she looks back at me. “And I will pray he keeps you safe.” She rests her hand gently on my stomach. “Both of you.”
14
KIREN
Snow swirls across the estate grounds in thin, slow spirals during the first few days after Rowan returns. From the tall windows of the operations wing, the land stretches out in quiet white layers. Trees and hedges frame the long private drive as it disappears toward the distant gate. The world continues its routine.
Inside my estate, I begin dismantling a man’s life. The operations room occupies the center wing of the house, a wide space designed for planning and surveillance. A long steel table dominates the room, its surface now covered with maps, financial records, and printed reports gathered over the last several days. The far wall holds a bank of monitors displaying transaction logs, property records, and satellite images that glow faintly in the dim winter light.
The room smells of coffee and cold air that slips in each time the outer doors open. I sit at the end of the table with my sleeves rolled back, one hand resting on the edge of a map while my attention moves slowly across the documents spread before me. Phone records. Shipping routes. Storage facilities. Shellcompanies with respectable names and empty offices. Every small piece of Ivan’s operation we have uncovered since Rowan came home lies here now.
Across the room, Polina stands beside the monitors, one hand braced on the desk beneath the screens while the other moves steadily across the keyboard. Columns of financial data scroll across the largest display, pale green numbers reflecting against the table's glass surface.
Mikel leans against the far counter with a tablet in his hands, studying the reports with the calm patience of someone who knows answers rarely appear all at once.
Rowan rests upstairs. The thought stays with me constantly now, steady beneath everything else. She’s alive. She’s safe. And for the first time in days, she’s sleeping longer than she usually allows herself.
The second morning after we brought her home, she tried to return to work. She dressed before sunrise, pulling on the same calm determination she brings to the hospital every day, already prepared to face long hours and difficult decisions.
I stopped her before she reached the door.
