Chapter 70 Laney
Laney
We argue in the back office of the tavern.
Not loud.
Not at first.
The baby monitor hums softly on the desk between us.
“This is exactly what she wants,” I say, keeping my voice low. “You standing in front of this. Drawing fire.”
Saint shakes his head.
“It’s not me she wants.”
His voice is steady, but there’s steel in it.
“It’s Emmy.”
The name lands heavily between us.
“She wants leverage,” he continues. “She wants something I won’t risk losing.”
His gaze flicks toward the hallway where the baby sleeps.
“She’ll never touch my daughter,” he says quietly. “Not once. Not ever.”
“I’m not asking you to hide!” I snap.
I catch myself and lower my voice again.
“I’m asking you to think about Emmy.”
He gestures toward the hallway.
“That’s exactly what I’m doing.”
“And if they escalate again?” I ask. “If it’s worse next time?”
His jaw tightens.
“I won’t let them hurt her.”
“You can’t control everything!” I say, the words coming out sharper than I meant.
Silence fills the room.
Heavy.
Then Saint speaks again.
Quietly.
“I can die trying.”
The words hit me like a slap.
My chest tightens.
“That is not romantic,” I whisper. “That is not brave. And it is not fair.”
His expression shifts.
Like I’ve wounded him somehow.
“I don’t know how to do this halfway,” he says.
And I believe him.
That’s the terrifying part.
I take a slow breath.
“I do,” I say softly.
“Because I have to.”
I step closer.
“We need you alive.”
For a moment neither of us moves.
The distance between us suddenly feels enormous.
We’re both breathing too hard.
Both scared.
Not of each other.
Of losing everything.