"Don't look at me like that."
He continued looking at me like that.
"I am not jealous," I said. "I am... observing a skill deficit. It’s a good trait to identify ones weaknesses."
Fergus yawned.
"Fine. I'm jealous."
We reached the house. I left Fergus in the mudroom with a towel and his motivational rations. He'd earned them, the patrol had been thorough, and surprisingly I enjoyed his company. I walked to Artem's office with the envelope still in my hand.
Artem was at his desk. Ivan was in the leather chair by the window, field-stripping a sidearm with the ease of someone who could do it in his sleep and probably had.
I dropped the envelope on the desk.
Ivan's hands stopped moving.
Artem picked it up. Wax seal. Irish crest. The sort of stationery men used when they wanted to remind you they had heritage while threatening your family.
He read it. His jaw clenched so hard I heard a crack.
"Well," he said, setting the letter down. "Callum is coming."
Ivan slammed the magazine back into his gun with more force than necessary. "When?"
"Friday."
"That's four days."
"Yes."
"We could kill him at the gate."
"We could," Artem agreed. "And then we'd spend the next three years fighting every Irish syndicate from Dublin to Chicago while the council decides whether we're worth the headache." He leaned back. "Maeve deserves to know. This is her father. Her decision."
Ivan shifted in his chair. "She just stopped flinching at doors."
"She's stronger than you think. She held her own in front of the council."
Ivan looked at me, surprised. I rarely offered opinions. It wasn't my role.
But I'd been watching Maeve for a long time now. I'd seen her stand in a room full of Bratva bosses and insult Yuri's tailoring.I'd seen her walk into a Vegas chapel with a scar bared and her chin up. I'd seen her feed our son at three in the morning while humming something Irish and sad, and I'd stood in the hallway outside the nursery like an idiot because I didn't know how to go in and offer company without a tactical reason.
"We've been treating her like glass," I said. "She's not glass. She's the woman who survived a forced bond and three years alone and still stopped to pick up a freezing dog on the side of a road."
Fergus, who had somehow escaped the mudroom and followed me to the office, barked once in affirmation.
"We don't hide this from her," I continued. "We bring her in."
Artem's mouth curved. "I agree."
"You already knew that."
"I did. I was waiting for you to say it."
Ivan looked between us. "Is this a test? Were you testing us?"
"No," Artem said. "I was testing Gregor. He passed."
