35. Fifteen Minutes
Chapter 35
Fifteen Minutes
MEGAN
A fter putting Deuce down for his nap, I step out of the nursery, stretching my sore shoulders as I make my way to the living room. The apartment is quiet, save for the muffled hum of the city beyond the glass windows. I expect to find Lars doing what he always does—standing watch like an immovable sentry. Instead, something in his expression stops me cold. His face, usually a blank mask of stoic disinterest, is drawn tight with something close to concern.
I know that look. I don’t like it.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, scanning his face.
Lars hesitates, as if debating whether to tell me the truth. That alone makes my stomach knot. I cross my arms, my stance firm. “Tell me,” I demand.
He exhales through his nose. “There’s someone downstairs to see you.”
My heart stutters. For the briefest, most naive moment, I allow myself to hope— maybe it’s Naomi.
“Your sister,” Lars clarifies.
My chest tightens. So Hunter didn’t kill my family like I once feared.
My voice is careful when I ask, “Did you tell Hunter?”
“Not yet.”
“Don’t.”
“Megan—”
“I’m not the same person I was the last time I saw her, Lars. I can handle whatever she came here to say.”
He eyes me warily, but there’s something knowing in his gaze. “I bet she’s a different person now, too,” he says, a quiet warning in his voice.
I already know what he means. Hunter is a man of vengeance, and my sister’s past actions—her betrayal—haven’t been forgotten. If she’s had a rough time of it, it’s because she earned it.
Still, she’s my sister.
I weigh my options. There’s no way in hell I want Rachel near Deuce. She doesn’t even need to know he exists. Which means the only choice is to go downstairs alone. The baby nurse isn’t due for another hour, so Lars will have to stay up here with my son.
“You’ll have to stay with the baby. I’ll go see what she wants.”
His frown deepens. “Not a good idea.”
“It’s not the best idea,” I concede. “But I’m not an idiot. Hunter has eyes everywhere. I know there’s a car stationed outside, probably someone lurking in the damn bushes for all I know. I won’t leave the lobby. I’ll stay in plain sight.”
“I don’t like this,” Lars mutters, jaw clenched. “My job is to protect you. And that includes reporting anything suspicious to Hunter.”
“But she’s here,” I press. “And I need to see her.” My voice softens, just a little. “She’s still my sister, Lars.”
He scoffs. “Blood isn’t everything. It just means you didn’t get a choice in the matter growing up. Now you do. I’d choose not. ”
I meet his gaze and say firmly, “This isn’t a negotiation. I know you work for Hunter, but I’m marrying him—which means you work for me, too.”
The words leave my mouth before I even process them, but I don’t regret them. I respect Lars. He’s older, wiser, and damn good at his job. But this is my life. My decision.
His expression hardens, but after a long beat, he relents. “Fifteen minutes,” he growls. “Then I’m calling my other boss.”
Ooh, he’s pissed.
But I don’t care.
I need this closure.
“Deal.”
I slip into my room, change into a clean shirt, and make my way to the elevator. As I descend, my pulse pounds in my ears. The moment the doors slide open, a new guy at the front desk gives me a nod and subtly gestures to the far left corner of the lobby.
Rachel stands with her back to me, staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the city beyond.
At first glance, she looks… unfamiliar. Like any other young woman lost in thought. But when she turns around, my breath catches.
She’s unrecognizable.
Gaunt. Sallow-skinned. Her once-lustrous hair hangs in limp strands around her sunken face. Her clothes are loose, hanging off her body like she’s been starving. And for the briefest moment, I mourn for the selfish, reckless girl she used to be—because the person standing before me now is broken.
Her eyes flick over me, assessing. “Megan.”
“What are you doing here, Rachel?” My voice is sharper than I intend, but I can’t help it. I fight the urge to ask when she last had a meal. “What do you want?”
Her lip trembles. “I haven’t seen you in a year, and that’s what you ask me?”
“Rachel, I have a lot on my plate. Your showing up here was unexpected. And frankly, unwanted. ” I level my gaze. “What. Do. You. Want.”
Tears slip down her face, but I don’t trust them. She’s always known how to cry on command.
“I was kidnapped,” she whispers. “I don’t know where our parents are. And you want me to leave?” Her voice rises, raw and pleading. “I have nowhere else to go.”
I knew Hunter had something to do with this. But the fact that she doesn’t know that? That’s a miracle.
“You were kidnapped,” I repeat.
“Yes!”
“And you escaped ?”
“Yes!”
“Well,” I say slowly, shifting uncomfortably. “Then you’re safe now.”
“Megan!”
“What?”
“I need help! I’m your freakin’ sister! ”
I cross my arms. “You’ve never been a sister to me, Rachel. Not ever. ”
Her eyes flash with something unreadable. “What do you mean? Is this about what happened with your ex?”
I scoff, barely able to believe my ears. “It’s everything, Rachel. I’m not saying it’s all your fault, but you’re missing something inside you.”
A brain.
A heart.
A soul.
“Something I don’t think you can just learn. ”
Her face crumples. “Are you saying I’m a monster?”
I shrug. “You come from monsters.”
“And so do you!”
I tilt my head. “I remember my mother. She wasn’t a monster.”
“And mine is?”
“The fact that you have to ask that is the problem.”
Her shoulders shake as silent sobs wrack her body. For the first time, the tears seem real. Her pain? Real.
She swallows hard. “Megan…” Her voice cracks. “I’m sorry.”
I slide my hands into my sweatpants pocket, fingers brushing over the cash I grabbed on my way down.
This apology is enough for closure. But not enough for anything more.
I pull out the cash—one hundred and twelve dollars—and press it into her palm. “Use this to get something to eat.”
She stares at the bills, then up at me. “Can I stay here for the night?”
“No,” I say simply. “But I can give you the name of a shelter.”
I scribble down the address of the one Lena told me about—the one that actually helps women get back on their feet.
“A shelter?” Rachel whispers, looking defeated.
“Yes,” I say.
She looks at the paper, her fingers trembling. “So this is goodbye, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” I hold her gaze. “And Rachel?—”
She lifts her chin. “Huh?”
“Don’t come here again. If Hunter had been home, this would have ended very differently. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
She gives me a bitter smile. “You’re in love with a psychopath.”
I smile back. “No. I’m in love with a protector. ”
Saying the words out loud settles something inside me.
Hunter isn’t a monster.
He’s what a man should be.
Protective.
Loyal.
Loving.
And undeniably, all mine.
“Good luck, Rachel.”
Then I turn and walk away without looking back with a smile on my face and, more importantly—one in my heart.