Slowly, we both floated back down to reality. I collapsed forward, his hands catching my waist and cradling me gently. If I could’ve stopped time at that moment and remained there forever, I would have.
Afterward, we lay tangled in the sheets, breathing the same air, hearts beating in sync. Roman pulled the blanket around us, his forehead resting against mine in the silver darkness. For the first time since I’d known him, I saw something I’d never seen before—peace.
"Do you trust me?" I whispered into the space between us.
He didn’t answer with words. Instead, he pulled me closer, his arms tightening around me like I was his anchor in a storm. His hand found my stomach, resting there with unconscious protectiveness, and I knew he was thinking about the baby. About us. About a future that suddenly seemed possible.
I closed my eyes, letting myself sink into the warmth of his embrace. Roman’s breathing evened out, sleep claiming him in a way I’d rarely seen. Even unconscious, his arm remained wrapped around my waist, holding me close like he was afraid I might disappear.
I adjusted the blanket around my belly, my palm covering his larger hand where it rested protectively over our child. The life growing inside me felt like a secret we were finally sharing, a bridge between the people we’d been and who we might become.
For him. For both of us. I’ll survive this.
The thought came with fierce determination. Whatever enemies circled us, whatever betrayals lurked in the shadows, I would be strong enough. Smart enough. I wouldn’t just survive Roman’s world—I’d conquer it.
An hour later, sleep tugged at the edges of my consciousness, but my throat felt parched from the emotional intensity of the evening. Carefully, I slipped from Roman’s embrace, pausing to watch him sleep. He looked younger like this, the harsh linesof command smoothed away by exhaustion and something that might have been happiness.
I wrapped his discarded shirt around me—it smelled like his cologne and something uniquely him—and padded barefoot through the darkened hallway. The house felt different at night, larger and full of shadows that seemed to shift when I wasn’t looking directly at them.
The moonlight streaming through the tall windows provided enough illumination to navigate without turning on lights. I was halfway to the staircase when movement caught my peripheral vision.
A shadow at the end of the hall. Tall, human-shaped, watching.
My heart slammed against my ribs as I spun toward the figure, but when I blinked, the hallway was empty. Nothing but moonlight and silence and the rapid sound of my breathing echoing off marble walls.
Just paranoia,I told myself, but my hands were shaking as I continued toward the kitchen.Too many late nights, too much stress, too many stories about enemies in the shadows.
But as I filled a glass with water, I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone had been there. Someone who knew exactly when I’d be vulnerable and alone.
Someone who’d been waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
25
ROMAN
Connor’s voice cut through the morning quiet like a blade through silk. "Come to my bunker. Alone."
No pleasantries. No explanation. Just the kind of urgency that made my blood run cold.
I stood at the window of my office, watching Cassie in the garden below. She was reading in the morning sunlight, one hand resting unconsciously on her stomach—a gesture that had become more frequent since we’d returned from the hospital. The sight of her made my chest tight with emotions I couldn’t afford to examine too closely.
"When?" I asked Connor.
"Now. And Roman? Don’t tell anyone where you’re going. Not even her."
The line went dead before I could respond, leaving me staring at my phone with growing unease. Connor had been my father’s most trusted man, had saved my life more times than I couldcount. If he was calling in emergency protocols, something was very, very wrong.
I found Cassie exactly where I’d seen her from the window, curled in the wrought-iron chair beneath the oak tree that had stood on Creed land for over a century. She looked up as I approached, and I watched her expression shift from contentment to concern in the space of a heartbeat.
"You have that look," she said, closing her book around her finger to mark the page.
"What look?"
"The one that means you’re about to walk into danger and I’m supposed to pretend I’m not terrified." Her brown eyes searched my face. "Where are you going?"
I could lie to her. Should lie to her. Keep her in the safe bubble of ignorance that had protected her this long. But something in her expression—the steel beneath the concern, the way she straightened her spine like she was preparing for battle—stopped me.
"Connor needs to see me. Alone." I crouched beside her chair, bringing us to eye level. "I don’t know what it’s about, but I need you to stay here. Stay close to the house."
