Page 12

Maggie studies me with red-rimmed eyes. “Are you going to rest?”

“No.”

Her mouth tightens as if she expected the answer and dislikes it anyway. “Alexei.”

“There are things I need to handle.”

A shiver passes through her, subtle but visible.

“Maggie,” I whisper, “no one will reach this house tonight. You’re safe.”

“I believe you.”

The certainty in her reply stays with me. She’s seen enough tonight to fear my world, but she still trusts me to stand between her and whatever comes next. I reach out and brush my knuckles along her cheek. Her skin is warm beneath my hand. She closes her eyes, leaning into the touch.

“Thank you,” I tell her.

Her throat moves as she swallows. “For what?”

“For not letting go of her.”

A tear slips down her cheek, and this time she doesn't wipe it away. “I couldn't.”

“You saved her.”

I lean in until my mouth finds Maggie's. The kiss is brief, but it isn’t casual. Nothing about this woman has ever been casual. My hand remains on her cheek for another heartbeat after the kiss ends.

Maggie's breath trembles against my mouth. I pull away before leaving becomes infinitely more difficult.

“Sleep,” I tell her.

She nods, though I doubt either of us will manage much of that.

I walk to the door and glance back once. Maggie has curled carefully around Ivy, protective without smothering her. My daughter sleeps with her face tucked against Maggie's side, one hand closed around the woman who saved her.

Downstairs, the mansion has changed into a fortress. My men move through the halls, speaking low into earpieces and monitoring feeds. The staff has withdrawn to the rear wing unless needed. Luka waits outside my office door, phone in hand, his mouth set in a grim line.

“Roman is expecting your call,” he informs me.

I nod and enter without stopping. The office door closes behind me, shutting out the muted activity beyond it. The grounds beyond the tall windows disappear into darkness. Security lights burn along the perimeter, turning the oaks silver and black. Usually, the view offers clarity. Now it only reminds me how many places danger can hide.

I cross to the desk and reach for the secure phone. Roman answers on the second ring.

“Brat.” Brother.

His voice is calm, but I hear the anger beneath it. My brother has always been at his most dangerous when he sounds reasonable.

“Did you get anything from him?” I ask.

Roman pauses, which gives me the answer before he speaks.

“No.”

My hand tightens around the phone. “He died too quickly.”

“He bit down before we got far enough. Cyanide capsule hidden in a back molar,” Roman answers.

There’s little room for interpretation. He was professional and prepared, sent here knowing exactly how this would end.