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Ronan closed his eyes. “Yes.”

It would destroy whatever future he and Felicity might have had.

She would never forgive him.

But the alternative was unthinkable.

At least she’d be free.

Alive.

*

The sun streamed through the hotel room windows. Ronan sat in the chair facing the bed and watched as consciousness slowly returned to Felicity.

A frown appeared between her brows. She shifted beneath the sheets.

His stomach twisted. “Morning, Lissy-love.”

She turned her head. Blinking against the light, she squinted at him. “Ugh. My head.”

Ronan saw the exact moment she realized something was wrong. Her gaze flicked to the window, back to him. Her eyes narrowed. “What time is it?”

“Almost ten.”

“Ten? Ten!” She sat up abruptly.

The movement was clumsy. Uncoordinated. Her hand flew to her head. “What’s wrong with me? It’s like I’m drug—”

Ronan didn’t answer.

The color drained from her face. “No.”

He rose slowly to his feet. “Felicity—”

“Did you drug me?” The question cracked like a gunshot between them.

His chest tightened. “I did.”

For a heartbeat she simply stared at him. “Why?”

He nodded toward the polymer parts spread across the low coffee table.

The barrel.

The frame.

The magazine.

Every piece of the weapon he’d found in her luggage.

And the ammunition she’d hidden the heels of her new boots.

“I couldn’t let you do it.”

She jerked as if physically struck. “No.” Her gaze snapped from the dismantled gun to him. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” The words emerged as little more than a hissed whisper.

Ronan held her gaze. “I saved the woman I love from spending the rest of her life in prison — or getting herself killed.”