His apartment building is on a dead-end street. Three stories. Run down. The gray sedan is parked out front at an angle, the driver's door still open, like he dragged her inside in a hurry.
I park and I'm out of the car before the engine fully dies. The main door to the building is propped open with a brick. Third floor, apartment 3B. I remember from last week. I take the stairs three at a time, my footsteps echoing in the concrete stairwell.
The door to 3B is closed but not locked. I can hear his voice through the wood. High, agitated, the pitch of a man who's spiraling.
"—think your fucking boyfriend scares me? He broke my fingers, Nadia. My fingers. Do you know how much that cost me? Do you know what I lost because of you? I’m going to fucking make you pay, you bitch!"
I open the door.
The apartment is the same shithole it was last week. Fast food containers on the counter, clothes on the floor, the remains of the laptop I smashed still sitting in pieces on the desk. Kyle is standing in the middle of the room with his back to the door. Nadia is on the couch.
She's alive. She's conscious. Her left cheek is red and swelling and there's blood on her lower lip where she's bitten through it or been hit. Her eyes are wide and wet and she's pressed into the corner of the couch with her knees pulled up, making herself as small as possible.
Her eyes find mine over Kyle's shoulder and the relief that floods through them is so raw it nearly takes me to my knees.
Kyle turns.
The color drains from his face. Whatever bravado brought him to that parking lot, whatever desperate courage made him think this was a good idea, it evaporates the second he sees me standing in his doorway.
"Sit down," I tell him.
He sits. On the floor, because his legs give out before he reaches the chair. He's shaking. His splinted fingers are cradled against his chest and his one good eye is locked on me with the wide, frozen terror of a prey animal that's just realized it can't run.
I cross the room to Nadia. I crouch in front of her and take her face in my hands, gently, tilting it toward the light. The mark on her cheek is a handprint. His handprint. She's trembling but she's whole. He didn't get far enough to do anything else.
"Did he touch you?" I ask quietly. "Beyond the hit."
She shakes her head. "He just... he kept talking. Threatening. He said he'd go after my family. He said he was going to fuck me and then fuck me up."
"Okay." I brush her hair back from her face. "It's over. You're safe. I need you to do something for me."
"What?"
"Grace and Iris are on their way. When they get here, you're going to leave with them. You're not going to look back. Can you do that?"
She nods. Her hand comes up and grips my wrist. Her fingers are ice cold and her nails dig into my skin. "What are you going to do?"
"What I should have done the first time."
Headlights sweep through the window. Car doors. Footsteps on the stairs. Liam comes through the door first, reading the room in half a second. Killian behind him, silent, already positioned. Aidan a step later, phone in hand, already handling logistics.
Then Grace and Iris with Connor behind them. Grace is calm, steady, a woman who married into this family and learned long ago when to step forward and when to step back. Iris takes one look at Nadia and crosses the room without hesitation.
"Come on, sweetie." Iris wraps her arm around Nadia's shoulders. "Let's get you out of here."
“You all came?” Nadia asks, incredulous.
“Of course we did,” Iris says to her. “We’re family.”
Nadia stands. Her legs are unsteady and Grace moves to her other side, supporting her weight. Nadia looks at me one more time.
"Go on," I tell her. "Go with them. I'll be right behind you."
She lets Grace and Iris guide her toward the door. Iris is already talking to her softly, one hand rubbing circles on her back. Grace catches my eye as they pass and gives me a single nod.
The door closes behind them.
The room is quiet. Kyle is still on the floor, trembling, surrounded by five Orlov brothers who are looking at him the way wolves look at something wounded and cornered.
