Jonas stilled, then crouched in front of her, his palms warm on her knees. His eyes were steady, fierce. “This isn’t on you. Do you hear me? Whatever he’s done, it isn’t yours to carry.”
“But I—”
“No.” He leaned closer, his voice cutting steel wrapped in smoke. “We’ll get through this. Together.”
Her lip wobbled again. “Then I have to fix this. I can’t just sit here.” She swallowed, her voice firmer now. “I have an idea.”
Her chest heaved. Jonas still knelt in front of her, damp hair dripping onto his bare shoulders, every line of his body tense and waiting.
She drew a shaky breath. “I need to see my mother.”
His eyes snapped up to hers, storm-grey darkening instantly. “No.”
“It’s not negotiable,” she pushed, surprising herself with the steel in her voice. “She knows more than she’s ever said. I can feel it. And if anyone can reach her, it’s me.”
Jonas stood, looming over her now, his jaw tight. “Clara, she’s been complicit, whether willingly or not. You walk into that, you could be walking into a trap.”
“Or I could walk into the truth.” She rose too, tilting her chin, meeting him head-on though her knees still trembled. “If my father has been hiding properties, funnelling money, putting everything in my name, then she knows something. She always knows. I can’t sit here waiting for all of you to fix this without me. This is my family, Jonas.”
He dragged a hand through his wet hair, pacing to the other side of the room before spinning back. His voice was rough, low. “You don’t understand what you’re asking. These people, Oliver, Hansen’s men, they play with lives like they’re pawns. I won’t put you in their line of sight.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Her voice cracked, but she forced it steady again. “You think I don’t see what it’s doing toyou? To us? If I can help, even if it’s risky, then I have to try. Otherwise, I’ll drown in the guilt of doing nothing.”
The words hung between them, sharp and trembling. Jonas’s chest rose and fell, each breath heavy enough to shake his frame.
Finally, he exhaled, long and ragged, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I need to run it by Bás. And Duchess. They’ll see angles I might miss.”
Clara stepped closer, her hand finding his forearm, her touch gentle but firm. “Fine. But don’t dismiss me outright. Please. I need this.”
His eyes softened then, storm clouds thinning just enough for her to glimpse the anguish underneath. He lowered his forehead to hers, breath mingling with hers in the quiet. “If I think for a second you’re in danger, I pull the plug. Nothing, and I mean nothing, is worth more than your safety.”
Her heart lurched, her lips parting, but before she could speak, his mouth was on hers. The kiss was fierce, sealing his vow with heat and desperation, his hands cradling her face as though she might slip away.
When he pulled back, his voice was gravel. “Get dressed. We’ll talk to Bás and Duchess together.”
For the first time since seeing her name on those deeds, Clara felt steady. Not because she was safe, but because she wasn’t alone.
Chapter 35
Jonas’s bootsechoed heavily against the concrete corridor, the sound out of step with Clara’s softer tread beside him. She kept pace, chin high, shoulders set in that stubborn tilt he was learning meant she wouldn’t bend, not to him, not to anyone.
He wanted to wrap her in bubble wrap, lock her in the safest corner of the compound, and guard the door with his own body. Instead, he was walking her straight toward Bás and Duchess.
The war inside his chest burned hotter with every step.
They reached the briefing room to find Bás already there, arms crossed, eyes narrowing as though he’d sensed Jonas coming from a mile away. Duchess leaned against the table, calm but watchful, like a hawk deciding whether to strike.
Jonas guided Clara to the chair beside him, his hand hovering at the small of her back before he forced it to drop. He didn’t need Bás catching that.
Bás’s stare cut straight to Jonas. “You look like hell.”
Jonas huffed, dry. “Been a long week.”
“Try long life.” Duchess arched a brow, then tilted her head toward Clara. “So, I’m guessing this isn’t a social visit.”
Jonas’s gut twisted. He’d intended to frame it carefully, protect Clara as much as possible. But she surprised him, leaning forward, hands clasped tight on the table.
“I need to see my mother.”
