Chapter 34
Kori
I watch Kane’s face fall as I walk away, but I know this is a family matter that doesn’t involve me.
As much as I’ve gotten entangled in the MacGallan drama, I’m still an outsider—a woman Kane met on a plane two weeks ago, not someone who belongs in high-stakes legal meetings about inheritances and empires.
The kitchen is warm and bright compared to the tension-filled hallway. Wren stands at the marble island, flour dusting her hands as she kneads what looks like bread dough.
“They kick you out, too?” she asks without looking up.
“I removed myself,” I clarify, washing my hands at the sink. “Seemed like a MacGallan-only situation.”
Wren snorts. “Tell that to the lawyers. Declan and I’ve been married for a year and a half, and they still treat me like I’m the help whenever legal matters come up.”
I dry my hands on a towel, studying her. Despite her casual tone, I can see tension in her shoulders. “Does that bother you?”
“Sometimes,” she admits, punching the dough with more force than necessary. “Other times, I’m grateful not to be dragged into the MacGallan madness. Like now.”
I lean against the counter, watching her work. “What exactly is happening in there?”
“The reading of Tomas’s second Will, essentially. Dividing the kingdom.” She glances up at me. “Want to help? Baking’s always been my therapy when the MacGallans get like this.”
“God, yes,” I say with feeling. “What are we making?”
“I started with bread, but I’m thinking we need chocolate. Lots of it.”
“Brownies?” I suggest already scanning the kitchen for ingredients.
“Perfect.”
We fall into an easy rhythm, working side by side as I measure and mix while Wren continues with her bread. There’s something soothing about the familiar motions, the precise measurements, the transformation of simple ingredients into something comforting and delicious.
“So,” Wren says casually as I pour the batter into a pan. “You and Kane.”
I feel heat rise to my cheeks that has nothing to do with the preheating oven. “Is it that obvious?”
“Honey, you both disappeared for hours and came down looking like you’d been thoroughly—”
“Okay, okay,” I interrupt, laughing despite my embarrassment. “Point taken.”
Wren smiles, but her eyes are serious. “Just be careful, okay? Kane’s a good guy. He hides behind a bottle whenever he’s scared someone might see past his tough-guy act. But I’ve watched how he looks at you when he thinks no one’s paying attention. That armor of his? It's got cracks now.”
“I know,” I sigh, sliding the brownies into the oven. “Believe me, I’m not planning anything long-term. We’re just... helping each other through some stuff.”
“With orgasms,” Wren adds helpfully.
I choke on air, which sets her laughing. “You’re terrible,” I tell her, but I’m smiling too.
The kitchen door swings open, and Mia enters, followed by Rory. They both pause, taking in the flour-covered counters and the smell of chocolate beginning to fill the air.
“Stress baking?” Mia asks, her eyes knowing.
“What gave it away?” Wren replies dryly.
“I’d recognize that look anywhere.” Mia rolls up her sleeves, joining us at the island. “What can I do to help?”
“Cookies?” I suggest. “We’ve got bread and brownies covered.”
“Perfect,” Mia agrees, already reaching for more flour. “Rory, make yourself useful and get the mixer.”
Rory complies with an exaggerated bow. “As the lady commands.”
The kitchen grows livelier with four of us working. Mia and Wren fall into a familiar pattern, moving around each other with the ease of people who have done this many times before. There’s something in their interaction that reminds me of—
“Oh my God,” I blurt out, the realization hitting me suddenly. “Are you two sisters?”
Mia and Wren freeze, exchanging a look before Wren bursts out laughing.
“Took her less time than it took you, Rory,” Mia says, grinning.
“To be fair, I was distracted by Kat trying to kill me at the time,” Rory defends himself, measuring vanilla extract with careful precision.
“Wait, what?” I look between them, confused. “Kat tried to kill you?”
“Not Kat,” Wren clarifies, still chuckling. “Mia. Well, she was sent to kill Connor and Declan.”
I stare at the petite, flour-dusted woman now calmly creaming butter and sugar. “You tried to kill Rory, too?”
“Not Rory,” Mia chirps. “Just Declan and Connor. It was my job.”
I must look as baffled as I feel because Wren takes pity on me.
“My sister was an assassin,” she explains, as casually as if she were saying ‘accountant’ or ‘teacher.’ “Sent to eliminate the MacGallan brothers. If they had known about Kane at the time, he would have been on her list, too.”
“An... assassin,” I repeat faintly.
Mia nods, adding eggs to her mixture one by one. “Former assassin. I retired when I fell in love with the target.”
“Connor,” I guess, remembering the way they stood together on the steps when we arrived.
“Connor,” she confirms with a smile that transforms her face. “Turns out it’s hard to kill someone when you’re busy sleeping with them.”
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, reaching for the wine bottle Rory has magically produced from somewhere. “And you all just... laugh about this now?”
“What else can we do?” Wren shrugs. “The past is the past. Besides, Mia wasn’t the only one with a secret identity. Did you know Kat was a champion kickboxer?”
“No, I did not.”
I lean against the counter, trying to process this new information. The MacGallans aren’t just wealthy and complicated—they’re apparently dangerous too.
“So let me get this straight,” I say slowly. “Mia was sent to kill the MacGallan brothers but fell in love with Connor instead. Kat is a former champion fighter. Wren is Mia’s sister, which makes her... what? Also, an assassin?”
“God, no,” Wren laughs. “I was a nurse in a nursing home when I met Declan. The most dangerous thing about me was my ability to cut off the lights at bedtime.”
“And you all just... coexist now? One big happy family?”
The three of them exchange looks that speak volumes.
“‘Happy’ might be stretching it,” Rory admits. “But ‘family,’ yes. A weird, dysfunctional, occasionally homicidal family.”
“We’re working on the happy part,” Mia adds, her expression softening. “Connor helps. He’s good at bringing people together.”
“Unlike Declan, who’s good at strategic planning but terrible at emotional intelligence,” Wren sighs.
“And Kane?” I ask, unable to help myself. “Where does he fit in all this?”
“Kane’s the wild card,” Rory says thoughtfully. “Always has been, even when we thought he was just a cousin. He’s the one who questions everything, who refuses to play by the rules.”
“He’s also the one most like Tomas,” Wren adds. “Though he’d hate to hear that.”
“I don’t think he’s quite the manwhore as his father, though,” Rory said.
I think about Kane—his restlessness, his intensity, the way he chafes against expectations while simultaneously craving connection. It makes sense that he would be the one most like the man who set this whole convoluted treasure hunt in motion.
“And now I’m sleeping with him,” I mutter into my wine glass. “Great life choices, Kori.”
Mia laughs, the sound unexpectedly warm from a former professional killer. “If it helps, you’re probably the sanest person he’s ever been involved with.”
“Low bar,” I grumble, but I’m smiling despite myself.
The oven timer dings, saving me from further embarrassment. As I pull out the perfectly baked brownies, the kitchen door swings open again, revealing Kat. Her face is tight with tension, but it eases slightly at the sight of us and the array of baked goods.
“Please tell me those are stress brownies,” Kat says, making a beeline for the pan in my hands. “I need chocolate after that nightmare.”
“Fresh out of the oven,” I tell her, setting the pan on a cooling rack. “That bad, huh?”
Kat grabs a knife, not waiting for the brownies to cool before cutting herself a piece. “Worse. Tomas left everything divided equally among all his children—including Kane.”
“And Kane’s not happy about it?” I guess, remembering his reaction earlier.
“Kane walked out,” Kat says, taking a bite of brownie and closing her eyes in momentary bliss. “Said he didn’t want any of it. Declan’s furious.”
I feel a pang of worry for Kane. “Where is he now?”
“Last I saw, he was heading toward the stables.”
I glance at the clock, realizing I’ve left my phone upstairs for hours. “I should probably check my messages. Excuse me for a minute.”
As I head upstairs, I can’t help but worry about Kane. I understand his reluctance to accept an inheritance from a father he never knew. Still, I also know the MacGallans well enough by now to recognize that refusing his share will only complicate matters.
In my room, I rummage through my bag for my inhaler first. The stress of everything—the sex with Kane, the MacGallan family drama, the revelation about Mia being an assassin—has my chest feeling tight. I take a puff, holding my breath for the required count before exhaling.
Next, I grab my phone, which I’d turned off this morning before Kane arrived with breakfast. It powers on with a series of chimes as notifications flood in. Before I can check any of them, the screen lights up with an incoming call from Jen.
“Hey,” I answer, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I was just about to call you.”
“Kori!” Jen’s voice is frantic. “Thank God you answered. Mark’s coming for you!”
My stomach drops. “What? That’s impossible. He has no idea where I am.”
“He knows you’re with the MacGallans,” Jen insists. “He came by Wavecrest yesterday looking for you, and when I wouldn’t tell him anything, he got furious. Said he’d track you down himself.”
“Jen, calm down,” I say, trying to keep my own voice steady. “There’s no way he could know I’m in Canada. I’m safe here.”
“No, you don’t understand,” she cuts me off. “He put a tracking device on something of yours when he was at Wavecrest. He bragged about it when he came back yesterday.”
“A tracking device?” I repeat, my mind racing. “That’s insane. Mark isn’t some spy—”
“It’s one of those Bluetooth tiles,” Jen explains. “The kind people use to find their keys. He said he activated it when you weren’t looking.”
A chill runs down my spine as I remember Mark standing close to my luggage when he visited Wavecrest. He’d seemed to be leaning against it while we talked, but I’d been too upset to pay much attention.
“I have to go,” I tell Jen abruptly. “I’ll call you back.”
I drop to my knees beside my suitcase, yanking it open and pawing through the contents.
Nothing seems out of place, but then I spot my toiletry bag, the one thing I would definitely bring with me everywhere.
I dump it out on the bed, and there, stuck to the bottom, is a small plastic square no bigger than a quarter.
A tiny light blinks green on its surface.
“Fuck,” I whisper, staring at the tracking device.
My first instinct is to destroy it, but then a better idea comes to me. I should warn Kane and the others first. I grab the tile and my phone, hurrying toward the door.
As I reach the top of the stairs, the doorbell rings, its chime echoing through the massive foyer below. Through the tall windows flanking the front entrance, I can see a rental car parked in the circular drive.
Before any of the staff can respond, I call out, “I’ll get it!” and hurry down the stairs.
My heart pounds as I approach the door, the tracking tile clutched in my palm. There’s a slim chance it could be someone else, a delivery, another lawyer, anyone but—
I pull the door open, and there he stands.
Mark looks exactly as he did at Wavecrest, though his clothes are more rumpled from travel. His expression shifts from determination to triumph when he sees me.
“Found you,” he says, a smile spreading across his face that doesn’t reach his eyes. “You’re a hard woman to track down, Kori.”