Chapter 29
The tile was cold. Adria moved through the house, inhaling the familiar scent of her mother’s cooking. It was dark, and the ambient light was barely enough to illuminate her way down the steps. She found herself propelled forward, despite wanting to turn back.
As she approached the kitchen, she heard quiet voices. Two people were arguing. Adria tried to listen. For some reason, she was desperate to hear what they were saying. But as she leaned into the darkness, all her ears picked up were cries of pain.
It wasn’t typical tears or sadness. This was a cry that came from someone’s middle. As if a core piece of them was being removed.
Adria hated how small she felt. Why couldn’t she be brave?
For a moment in the dark, she was frozen, like time stopped.
But then she moved.
Adria felt her feet padding on the cold floor below.
Right foot.
Left foot.
They moved one at a time, silent, and without her control.
As she rounded the corner, making her way into the kitchen, her heart hammered in her chest. Her body screamed to go the other way.
Go back. We don’t want to be here.
Closing her eyes, Adria refused to look, but when she felt her body slow, she opened her eyes once again.
The kitchen was filled with a dark haze.
When she finally reached the deep blue door with the gold handle, her tiny hand reached up to open it.
Her breathing was shallow but erratic. Adria was sure whomever was beyond could hear her.
The door opened, and she saw Jonathan.
Cut and bleeding. His blue eyes finding hers.
As Adria opened her mouth to scream, Jonathan’s body flickered.
And changed.
Now he was someone else.
And Maxim was there holding a knife.
“Adria, you shouldn’t be here,” he said softly, lowering the blade.
Adria tried to back up, but a hand clamped around her shoulder.
Adria woke up to Kaydon’s loud breathing, mirroring her own. Sweat and anxiety clung to her like morning dew. She tried to shake the feeling of the dream.
It seemed even in death, Jonathan was still haunting her. But now Maxim? Something about the dream stirred memories in her.
She tried to remember if she had even seen Maxim holding a knife in her kitchen. She searched the recesses of her mind, but Adria grasped at ghosts and came up empty.
She was hot from her dream and the Mexican daylight creeping into their bedroom wasn’t helping.
Their bedroom.
She glanced over. Bryson was already awake, laying with eyes open, staring at the ceiling fan.
He seemed to sense her gaze and looked over at her.
Their eyes locked, and despite the heat, goosebumps prickled across her skin.
Seth was curled against Bryson’s side, one arm draped possessively across his chest. Kaydon’s warmth pressed against her back.
Last night’s conversation on the balcony replayed in her mind—Bryson’s whispered confession, I want you to take care of them.
Now, watching him absently stroke Seth’s hair, she wondered what this meant for all of them.
Their dynamic was evolving beyond the violence and pain that had previously defined them.
The tenderness they were sharing felt like discovering a hidden room in a familiar house—both foreign and safe.
Yet beneath Bryson’s newfound softness, she sensed the jagged edges of his trauma.
Adria knew firsthand how well pain could hide itself.
Her gaze drifted to Kaydon’s protective arm and to Seth’s sleeping face; she knew Bryson wasn’t the only one carrying invisible wounds.
Things were changing so fast, and none of them had been given any room to breathe.
Bryson ran his fingers through Seth’s hair, rousing him. Kaydon’s arm curled around her middle, pulling her closer. His body enveloping her in warm safety.
“Morning, boss,” Kaydon said into her ear, sending a new shiver across her back.
Seth’s eyes flashed open, and Adria watched as he hit her with one of his sweetest smiles.
Kaydon’s erection was impossible to ignore, and Adria was having her own reaction to the proximity of the three. The air between them thickened with possibility, but there were words that needed to be said first, conversations they couldn’t afford to postpone any longer.
“We need to talk,” she said seriously.
Kaydon nuzzled his face into her hair, breathing her in. “We need to eat.” His voice rumbled in her chest. “You need to eat. Then we can talk,” he whispered.
She was about to chastise him. Tell him that he wasn’t in charge here, but her stomach growled, and Bryson and Seth laughed.
Adria tried not to be self-conscious when the four of them arrived at breakfast. Vega’s eyes acknowledged their arrival, but they held no judgment. The table was filled with eggs, bacon, waffles, fruit and accompaniments. Bryson sat down first next to Elena.
“So, what’s the plan?” Elena said from across the table.
Adria dished up a pancake with fruit. “I talked with X last night, and he thinks if we stay here about a week, the tail on us will die down.”
“Getting there is another problem,” Vega said. “If what you told me is true, your papers and plane have been compromised. You could take a charter, but that has risks.”
Kaydon said, “We could take a boat.”
Vega took a moment to think. “That could work. But we would have to be sure that you were not followed.”
“We could send a lookout party, make sure our port entrance is uneventful,” Seth said.
“That’s brilliant,” Eric said as he slid into the vacant chair, the dark circles under his eyes more pronounced than usual.
“I agree,” Vega said. “That could easily be arranged.”
“And what would be in it for you?” Bryson chimed in, his voice icy.
Adria had to take a deep breath in order to stop herself from reprimanding him in front of the whole table.
She had to remind herself that their bedroom dynamic didn’t extend into their regular life.
Bryson was a Winters heir. He was going to be a family head someday.
She needed to start treating him that way.
Vega placed a hand over his heart, feigning injury. “I can assure you my interests in you, young prince, have long since sailed. I can see the four of you are happy together, and I would never deign to get in between that.”
He turned his gaze to Adria. “I only ask that you consider my request.”
Adria coughed. “Vega, if or when I’m able to go home. Not to mention what happened before…” she trailed off, not sure how to explain herself.
“We would be willing to try. When we make it home,” Eric said, his voice sure.
Adria cocked an eyebrow at him.
We?
Daniela marched into the dining room. Today she wore flowing fabric pants and a shirt that covered most of her waist. She grabbed a muffin and seemed unusually quiet before turning on her heels.
“You probably should eat more than a muffin for breakfast,” Eric said, drawing Adria’s attention.
Daniela froze at the sound of his voice, and when she turned, the flush in her cheeks was obvious. Adria watched, mouth open, as she leaned seductively over Eric and grabbed a handful of grapes to go with her pastry.
“Happy, old man?” she said, before turning and leaving the room.
Adria watched Eric. She watched his eyes follow the girl as she left, and she watched him physically change back to his everyday self once Daniela was out of sight.
Interesting.
He didn’t normally go for brats.