"I know that."
"Do you?" He takes another half-step closer. "Because you should be terrified. You should want to run as far from this as possible."
"Maybe I don't run."
His jaw clenches. "Then you're a fool."
"Perhaps." I hold his stare. "But I'm still here."
His expression shifts.
"You can't leave here with your brother," he says.
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me." His tone is flat. Final. "Reilan takes you out of here, you're exposed. Easy target."
"I don't need your permission to..."
"You do, actually." He cuts me off. "You're going to be my wife. That makes you Murphy property. Murphy responsibility."
The words sting more than they should. Property. Like I'm a shipment to be guarded. A transaction to be secured.
"I need to see my father."
"Fine." He doesn't move from his position between me and the door. "You'll go with my security team. They'll take you to the hospital, stay with you, bring you back."
"That's not..."
"That's how it is." His voice is hard now. Controlled. "The Russians know about you. They know you matter. Which means you're a target, and I can't protect you if you're running around Ireland with just your brother."
I want to argue. Want to tell him he has no right to dictate where I go or who I go with. But the logic is sound.
My hands tighten on the towel. I'm suddenly hyperaware again of how little I'm wearing. How vulnerable I am standing here arguing with him while water drips down my skin.
"You need to leave." My voice is quiet. "Now."
His eyes drop, just for a second, to where my hands are gripping the towel. Then back up to my face.
"Yeah," he says roughly. "I should."
But he doesn't move immediately. Just stands there, looking at me like he's memorizing something. Like he's fighting with himself.
The silence stretches between us.
Then, unexpectedly: "How are you?"
I blink. The question is so incongruous with everything else, the tension, the anger, the way he was just looking at me, that for a moment I think I misheard.
"What?"
"How are you?" He asks it again, and this time I hear something different in his voice. Something softer. Almost gentle. "After last night."
The crack appears before I can stop it. Something in my chest that I've been holding together with pure will fractures at the edges.
I look away, blinking hard. "I'm fine."
"Aoife..."
