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“I…” The words stuck in my throat.

His thumbs brushed over my hands. “I love you, Samantha. I’m not going anywhere.”

That was what finally broke through everything else.

He’s not going anywhere.

“Okay,” I whispered.

His eyes searched mine. “Okay?”

I nodded as fresh tears filled my eyes. “Okay. I’ll marry you.”

He pulled me against him, and I closed my eyes. For once, I let myself need him.

I wrapped my arms around him and held on because I couldn’t survive losing anyone else.

Chapter 20

Richard

Everything had aligned exactly as I intended.

The wedding was days away. Samantha would move in with me after the ceremony. No more space between us. She would live under my roof. Under my watch. The arrangements were already in motion. Furniture had been moved into our new house this morning. I had chosen the pieces myself.

I signed the last document and set the pen down. The company ran more smoothly under my orders. Board meetings ended faster. Decisions came more quickly. No more delays from my father’s old habits.

Colin walked in without knocking, carrying a thick manila folder. I didn’t look up from my work. He dropped heavily into the chair across from me and tossed the folder onto the desk. I opened it and scanned the contents.

Edward.

Well, this was going to be fun.

Apparently, the old fuck had been skimming money from the Collective for years through the shipping companies he controlled. After suffering several major losses, he’d gotten desperate and started threatening to expose other members if they didn’t help him cover what he’d taken.

I couldn’t help smiling as I continued reading. Edward had spent years questioning whether I belonged in the Collective. He’d watched me more closely than anyone else, always waiting for me to prove him right.

And now his name was in my fucking hands.

The order was clear. Edward and everyone in his household were to be executed.

I closed the folder.

“When?” I asked.

“Tonight.”

“Who’s our third?”

“Greg.”

I stood and straightened my jacket. I walked out with Colin at my side. We took the private elevator to the underground levels. The doors opened to the garage. Cool air carried the faint smell of concrete and engine oil. A plain black cargo van waited in the far corner. No logos. No windows. Nothing memorable. Greg stood at the back loading the equipment. Duffel bags. Gloves. Zip ties. Shotguns. Handguns. Suppressors.

Greg noticed me watching, “I hate wasting time looking for shit.”

I nodded.

“So do I.”