The knot of tension Zach had carried for months loosened fractionally. Not gone. It might never be gone entirely. But the immediate threat, the blade hanging over his family for so long?—
Done.
Marcus couldn't hurt them any longer.
“The resort?” he asked.
“Secure. Nick ordered a full sweep. Marcus only had those two men—the assassin in the cave and the groundskeeper you caught.” Emma tilted her head. “Nick told me about Marcus. Hewas so arrogant, so sure of his superiority to you guys, that he would destroy you.”
Zach nodded. “Yes. Nick and David?”
“Both fine. Worried about you. They wanted to stay, but I sent them to bed.” A pause. “I said I’d stay with you.”
Zach’s chest tightened. Not with pain this time. With something else.
The realization hit him then, fully and completely. Not in fragments or half-acknowledged truths, but as a solid, undeniable fact:
“You saved me,” he said it simply. Honestly. No deflection, no hedging. Just truth. His eyes remained glued to hers.
Emma shook her head, a small motion she made whenever she downplayed something. “We saved each other.”
“No.” Zach held her gaze. “You kept me conscious. You got me out of the cave. The poultice. You—” His throat felt tight. “I would have died if you hadn’t been there.”
“You would have found a way?—”
“Emma.” Her name stopped her mid-sentence. “Don’t. My body was shutting down. I know how close it was.” A breath. “You saved me. Your poultice slowed the venom enough for me to fight it off.”
She glanced away, her jaw working. When she looked back, something raw crossed her face, something she’d been holding at bay since the moment he woke up.
“I couldn’t lose you,” she said quietly. “I couldn’t—after everything?—”
The rush of emotion almost overwhelmed him. Gratitude, yes. But more. Something deeper, more fundamental. Something that had been building between them for weeks, but he’d been too controlled, too locked down, tooafraidto acknowledge.
This was the turning point. The edge of a cliff more dangerous than any physical precipice.
He could retreat. Default to his training, his conditioning, his lifetime of maintaining distance. Keep her safe by keeping her separate.
Or he could do something he’d never been good at: tell the truth.
He opened his mouth to deflect. To reject her words. But that would be rejectingher, and he couldn’t bring himself to do that.
“I should’ve told you sooner,” Zach procrastinated, offering a truth, but notthetruth.
Emma frowned. “Told me what?”
“About Marcus. About everything.” The words felt rusty, unused. He shifted uncomfortably. “About what I was. What he wanted. The threat you were under just by being here.”
“But you didn't. You left me in the dark.”
Zach went still. “I didn’t want you pulled into this.”
Emma’s expression shifted. Not anger. Something sharper. “You decided for me. Didn't give me a choice.”
He forced himself to hold her gaze, to not look away from whatever judgment or anger might lie there. “Yes.”
“Without asking what I wanted.”
“Yes. I thought if I kept distance—” He stopped, stomach churning. “You'd be safer.”
