If Roman believed I could do this, if he thought I was strong enough to not only be Sorcha’s protector but also a father, then maybe I could believe it too.
I gave him a short nod, sharper this time, more certain. “Your word means everything, Roman. More than you know.”
He didn’t answer, just tipped his chin in that quiet way of his, the unspoken acknowledgment that was as close to sentiment as he let most people see.
And I carried his words with me like armour as I walked out into the night, knowing that if Roman Dragic believed in me, then I wouldn’t fail. Not Sorcha. Not our child and not the family we were building.
The drive back was quieter than usual. Roman’s words stayed with me, circling my thoughts like wolves on a hunt. ‘You will be a great father’.I gripped the wheel harder, trying to make sense of how something so simple had eased the storm in me. My brother’s belief was a foundation, and for once, I let myself lean on it.
By the time I pulled through the gates, my men already sweeping the grounds with their watchful eyes, I felt something I hadn’t in weeks, I felt that I was steadier. I still wanted to tear the world apart for every threat that could touch her, but at least I could breathe through it.
Inside, the sound of laughter surprised me, it was unexpected which met me before I even reached the sitting room. It wasn’t the men. It was her.
I stepped into the doorway and froze.
Sorcha sat curled on the couch, a blanket over her legs, her eyes fixed on the television. The glow from the screen lit her hair like fire, and there was a flush on her cheeks, not from sickness but from excitement. Troy, Jericho, and Ivan were gathered around, but the second they saw me, they were on their feet, silent as shadows.
They bowed their heads slightly and slipped out without a word, leaving us alone.
Her head turned toward me, that spark in her eyes striking me harder than any blade ever had. “You’re back.”
I crossed to her in three strides, sinking down beside her, my hand brushing over her hair, needing to touch her just to prove she was real. “Always.” My voice came out rougher than I intended.
Her gaze flicked back to the TV, then back at me, her lips quirking. “I didn’t take you for the type to watch football.”
I arched a brow, following her gaze to the screen. Two teams in bright kits clashed across a massive green field. “I’m not,” I said flatly.
She grinned, leaning back, eyes dancing with mischief. “Good. Because I’d destroy you in stats and history. You wouldn’t last a second.”
I tilted my head, studying her. “You know the game that well?”
“Know it? Lucien, I live for it. Used to go to matches with my dad. Could tell you who’s top scorer this season, or who’s holding the worst defence line. But…” she gave me a sly glance, “…I don’t think you’re ready for that kind of education.”
A laugh rumbled out of me, from the depth of my chest which startled me as I’m not one to find amusement in much, but it was real and felt good. “You think you can teach me?”
“Think?” Her smile widened. “I know.”
The amusement in her tone tugged something deep in my chest. She wasn’t teasing to provoke, she was teasing because for once, she was at ease. She was glowing, alive, and I would do anything to keep her like this.
I leaned closer, brushing a lock of hair from her face. “Careful, sweetheart. You teach me too much, and I’ll start winning.”
She snorted. “Not a chance.”
And just like that, I was lost. I caught her mouth with mine, the kiss hard and claiming at first, then deepening into something slower, hungrier. Her lips parted, and I swallowed her soft sound, my hand sliding to the back of her neck, anchoring her to me. She melted against me, her warmth sinking into every crack I didn’t know I still had.
When I finally pulled back, my forehead pressed to hers, her breath mingled with mine. “You keep surprising me,” I whispered.
Her fingers curled into my shirt, holding me close. “Get used to it.”
And for the first time in too long, I let myself believe I could.
I was just about to answer when my phone beeped. Grunting, I pulled it from my pocket, Draugr’s name flashing across the screen. My jaw tightened. Draugr didn’t call unless it was urgent.
“Yeah?” I answered, still stroking my fingers through Sorcha’s hair, smiling faintly when I saw her attention had drifted back to the game on the screen.
The sound that came through the line wasn’t calm, wasn’t measured. It was fire, rough and raw.“We have a fucking problem.”
Every muscle in my body locked. My hand stilled in her hair before I forced it away. Slowly, deliberately, I stood. “I’m listening.”
