Page 75 of The Silent Princess

“They will be expecting us.”

“And we will make sure to be extremely polite guests, then.” I nod, the weight of his life heavy on my shoulders. We change into tactical gear in the adjoining security room: black Kevlar vests, reinforced gloves, hidden comms, holsters strapped tight, trading polished shoes and tailored shirts for equipment that does not forgive hesitation. I check my phone. A sleepy Ella, curled on her side in my sheets, is still there. I let out an exhale. Focus. Both of us, alone, with no other security or men, because when you are about to commit a crime, you keep it, well, I would say, in the family, but for this once, I will say you keep it to the bare minimum. Matt and I. With his veteran experience, that should be enough to have my back. And still, I will admit, I would have gone by myself without batting an eye.

With our Glocks in our holsters and the vault shut, I make a mental note to erase my presence on the building cameras and my phone’s GPS. And if a cousin of Cole or an uncle comes after me, I will give them the same treatment, although I am sure they would shut their mouths after using the piece of blackmail I have on them. A family name is a brand, and I am sure it matters more to them than avenging a piece of crap like Cole. Especially knowing all the warring around in their family to become the heir, pretty sure some of them would almost thank me for it.

“Ready?” I ask Matt after removing a speck of dust from my shoulder.

“Let’s kill some rats.” He smirks, and we go out, the both of us, back to the elevator, then to the car, heading outside the city, where the lights end and the forest begins. Right into the belly of the beast. Although jumping from a plane with Nate or trying spicy scorpions in South America was quite heart-racing, this time, I have never been calmer. Composed. Focused. The ride chips away any crumbs of fear and stress. Because Ella is all I can think about: her and her way of watching me like I am a good thing brought to this world; her and her ways of being mad at me despite her lack of voice; her and her presence seeing right through me on any occasion. I used to watch over the gray skyscrapers, wondering if she existed. This person. My person. Waiting for me. And she was, all along, trapped inside a cage I should have freed her from long ago.

She feels like cold water on my face, like a collision of the best sort, a car crash that keeps on happening, only it’s not destroying me. It’s destroying everything I have ever held onto: the loneliness, the obsession with living a disciplined life like I was meant for this, when sharing a piece of cake with her had actually brought more joy to my life than anything I had ever done. Ella shows me happiness is in the little things, as long as they are with her.

We ride, lights out, the city now behind us, with no music because the concrete under the wheels is enough to remind us of where we are heading—Cole’s manor. The thing so big it only contrasts with what I gather is a total lack of self-confidence. With one last check on my surveillance app, I run my thumb over her silhouette, curled on my side of the bed, wearing my T-shirt, exactly where she should have always been. The image blurs, and I notice the signal disappearing.

“No signal,” Matt grunts. “They must have jamming emitters made for this. There’s a satellite phone in the glove box if needed.” My knee bounces. This isn't ideal, but aside from this grain of sand in the neat architecture of my plan, her safety is bulletproof. I have a team at home monitoring the perimeter and circling the block. Cameras on every entrance. A tracker in her phone. I have left nothing to fate. Whoever tries to get near her will end up in a bloodbath before catching even a glimpse of her. I have covered every corner of my plan, thought through every move, outlined every detail. Nothing can happen to her. Even with a damn signal cut, she will remain safe while I take care of the only threat left. A part of me, far in the back of my head, tells me I should go back. But another part, the one thirsting for her protection, needs to act before Cole makes an irreversible move.

I will be home soon, next to her, and perhaps I will find enough courage to tell her, to tell her that I have fallen for her. That I love her in the way that no future is worth it if it is not beside her. That I intend on buying her books until the end of time and filling our house with cheesecakes and light blue cushions and even flowers if she wants me to. That loving her is a second nature, a vital need.

“Over there,” I point, noticing the staff entrance on the side of the manor. “There, it will be easier to enter.” It is not like we are going to knock on the door. We are going to climb the fence, break in, and perhaps…perhaps slit his throat in his sleep. I’m not sure yet. But the closer we get, the more definitive my plan becomes. Threatening never worked. I’ll need to go all in this time. We park in the darkness, the wind and branches so loud I am sure no one noticed our arrival since we were driving without lights on. Still, you can never be sure. Matt turns off the car, and I can hear my heart in my temples, equal tempo, as if I am underwater. A simple exchange of looks tells me Matt is ready too.

“Wait for me here. If I am not back in ten, drive away.”

“No.”

“That was not a question.”

“I am coming with you.”

“I need you here to have my back and get the car driving when I get out.”

“It’s that personal; you want to go in there alone?”

“Yeah. It is that personal.” And because I won't put him at more risk since he's already committed more than he should have, I'll carry all the weight of the consequences. He lets out a groan, shaking his head, and I take out my Glock, checking the bullet before opening the door. Before closing it, I hold the door.

“It was a hell of a ride to get to know you,” I tell him, my voice low and not expecting an answer. He clenches his jaw, and I shut the door because we are not here to have a dramatic goodbye, and hence, perhaps no goodbye at all, but I have learned from Nate that telling people about feelings is a good thing, so. Well, I can't say I didn't try. In total darkness, I find the staff door and manage to grip the brick wall, climb its four, and slide above it with a not-so-graceful drop.

An owl chants away, and I am met with complete darkness. Alone, in enemy territory. Going back to all the times my father sent me hunting with him, I remind myself of all the lessons he taught me. Easy steps, keep a low profile, find the prey, match your breathing to theirs, and wait, wait until they relax in the false comfort and then, then you strike. I crack my neck, heading toward a window that will be my door, guiding me to Cole Vodianov. One of us will die tonight. With one last thought going to my woman and her soft heart holding on to all the good parts of me, I let the darkness take possession of me, becoming one with it. No longer man. No longer human. Just a predator, hunting for the kill. And I hope I make it, because my Ella is waiting for me, and when I come back, I will tell her. I will tell her how much she changed everything.

How much I love her.

I’ll tell her, I repeat to myself.

I’ll tell her I love her.

Ella

What is this noise? My temples hurt like crazy. It is five a.m., and my phone keeps ringing. I was peacefully drifting away when the alarm dragged me out of the heaven I was barely setting foot in.

“Tristan? Tristan?” I repeat, my lips moving despite the silence hitting me back. His bedside lamp casts a honey-like light on the room, sparing me from complete darkness. He is not here, but just a few minutes ago, he was; he was there, right? I did not make that up? Has he already gone to find the person who threatened me? And why do I feel my lungs closing in on me, ruffling the sheets, searching everywhere in the room as if this was a bad joke? There’s a note on his pillow.

I’m taking care of everything.

Do not leave the house.

I’ll see you in a few hours, sweetheart.

T.

It should reassure me, but my heart doesn’t catch up; the alarm sound is still pulsing in the room. Catching my phone on the bedside table, I cannot see who’s calling—unknown caller. Swiping right just to make it stop, I press it close to my ear. Whoever is calling must have no idea that a call isn't ideal for talking to me.