Chapter 5
Nico’s voice dropped. “He did not remain in that mansion.”
Something about the way he said it made her pause.
But the plane began to descend before she could ask.
The car from the private airstrip took them not to the Vale estate she had fled, but to an older property north of the city. Stone walls. Iron gates. Forest pressing close on all sides.
The children woke as the gates opened.
Leo rubbed his eyes. “Mama, where are we?”
Evelyn swallowed. “Somewhere temporary.”
Lily looked out the window.
A mansion emerged through the trees.
It was not beautiful in the warm, inviting way houses in magazines were beautiful. It was beautiful like a fortress was beautiful: cold, deliberate, built to survive siege.
Men stood at the entrance.
Armed.
Waiting.
The SUV stopped.
Nico stepped out first.
Evelyn’s door opened.
She climbed out with Lily in her arms and Leo pressed against her leg.
Then the front doors of the mansion opened.
Marcus Vale descended the steps.
For three years, Evelyn had preserved him in memory as cruelly perfect. Black hair. Wolf-gray eyes. A mouth made for commands and rare, devastating smiles. Tailored suits. Power worn without effort.
The man coming down the steps was thinner.
Harder.
There was a scar cutting through his left eyebrow. Another at his throat, pale against his skin. His black coat hung open despite the cold, and his gaze did not move from Evelyn’s face.
For one unbearable second, the world emptied around them.
No guards.
No rain.
No children.
Only Marcus looking at her as if he had crossed hell and found her standing at the far shore.
“Evelyn,” he said.
Her name broke in his mouth.
She hated that it hurt to hear it.
She lifted her chin. “Marcus.”
His eyes dropped.
To Leo.
To Lily.
The change in him was not dramatic. He did not stagger. He did not curse. He did not demand.
He simply stopped breathing.
Leo stared back with open curiosity.
Lily hid half her face against Evelyn’s shoulder but kept watching him.
Marcus looked at the boy, then the girl, then Evelyn.
His voice was barely audible.
“How old?”
Evelyn’s fingers dug into Lily’s coat. “Three.”
A muscle jumped in his jaw.
“Mine?”
It was a foolish question. A desperate one.
Evelyn almost lied.
But Lily whispered, “Mama?”
And the lie died.
“Yes.”
Marcus closed his eyes.
For a heartbeat, the most feared man on the East Coast looked as if a bullet had found the only unarmored place in him.
When he opened his eyes, they were no longer soft.
“Inside,” he said.
Evelyn did not move.
“I’m not your prisoner.”
“No,” Marcus said, looking past her toward the road. “You are a target.”
May you like
“Whose?”
His gaze returned to hers.
