Chapter 39
Six Months Later
The MacGallan lake house gleamed in the October sunlight, its windows reflecting the gorgeous autumn foliage that surrounded it. Renovations had transformed the once-modest vacation home into a proper residence, with expanded wings and updated security that satisfied even Declan’s exacting standards.
I stood on the dock, watching the sunlight dance across the water, a cup of coffee warming my hands against the morning chill. Behind me, the sounds of the household coming awake filtered through the open windows—Wren’s laughter, the clatter of breakfast preparations, music playing softly from someone’s phone.
“There you are,”
Connor’s voice came from behind me. “I was wondering where you’d disappeared to.”
I turned, smiling as he approached. He looked particularly handsome this morning, his hair still damp from the shower, the formal MacGallan kilt and jacket he’d wear for the ceremony draped over his arm.
“Just enjoying the quiet,”
I replied, leaning into him as he wrapped his free arm around me. “Taking it all in before the chaos begins.”
Today was no ordinary day. After months of planning and preparation, Connor would officially be sworn in as the new MacGallan Clan Captain in a ceremony taking over the reins from Declan.
“Nervous?”
I asked, studying Connor’s face.
He smiled, the small crinkles around his eyes deepening. “Terrified,”
he admitted. “But in a good way. Like standing at the edge of something important.”
I understood completely. That same feeling had been my constant companion these past months as I rebuilt my life—as we rebuilt our lives together.
“You’re going to be an amazing captain,”
I said, meaning every word. “The clan is lucky to have you.”
“The clan is lucky to have us,”
he corrected gently. “You’re as much a part of this as I am, Mia.”
The thought still took some getting used to—that I belonged here, that I had a place in this family that had once been my target. The journey hadn’t been easy. There had been difficult conversations, painful revelations, moments when forgiveness seemed impossible. But we had persevered, one day at a time.
“Lily’s flight lands at noon,”
I said, changing the subject. “Ryker’s picking her up at the airport.”
He raised a brow, a knowing smile playing at his lips. “I’m sure he’ll be right on time for that.”
“Probably early,”
I agreed with a laugh. The unexpected connection between my sister and the security specialist had blossomed over the past months, beginning as friendship during her recovery and gradually deepening into something more. Ryker had transferred to Vancouver, ostensibly to establish a West Coast security branch for MacGallan Enterprises, but no one was fooled about his primary motivation.
“Come on,”
he said, tugging me gently toward the house. “Wren’s making her famous pancakes, and Declan’s already on his second cup of coffee, which means he’s almost approachable.”
The kitchen was a hub of activity when we entered. Wren stood at the stove, expertly flipping pancakes while Declan leaned against the counter beside her, coffee in hand, his expression softer than it had been in years. Rory sat at the island, one hand scrolling through his tablet, the other absently rubbing his chest where the scars from his near-fatal wounds still ached in cold weather.
“There’s the man of the hour,”
Rory called, raising his coffee mug in salute. “Ready to take on three hundred years of responsibility?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be,”
Connor replied, draping his formal wear over a chair before joining us at the island. “Though I’m still not convinced I’m the right choice.”
“You’re the only choice,”
Declan said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You’re more approachable in a way I could never be. The clan needs that now more than ever.”
My phone buzzed in my pocket, interrupting the comfortable family moment. I pulled it out, expecting a message from Lily about her flight.
Instead, a number I didn’t recognize had sent a single image—a photograph of me entering the lake house yesterday, taken with a telephoto lens from the surrounding woods. Beneath it, text that made my blood run cold:
“We haven’t forgotten what you did, traitor. Matheson had friends. Your new family won’t protect you forever.”
My fingers tightened around the phone as I stared at the screen, the kitchen conversation fading to white noise around me. This wasn’t the first threat I’d received in the months since Matheson’s death. Twice before, similar messages had arrived—each one a reminder that his organization hadn’t died with him. But never so close to the family home.
“Mia?”
Wren’s voice broke through my spiraling thoughts. “What’s Lily planning to do after the ceremony? I wanted to make sure we have time for that dinner reservation.”
I looked up, forcing my expression to remain neutral despite the ice spreading through my veins. “Sorry, what?”
“Lily,”
Wren repeated, her brow furrowing slightly. “After the ceremony. Does she have plans?”
“Oh, right,”
I managed, sliding my phone face-down onto the counter. “She mentioned wanting to see the lake at sunset. Maybe a walk if the weather holds.”
Wren nodded, turning back to her pancakes. “Perfect. I’ll tell the restaurant we’ll be there around eight, then.”
Connor’s hand settled on my lower back, his touch gentle but questioning. He’d noticed my distraction, the subtle tension that had crept into my shoulders. I gave him a small smile that didn’t reach my eyes, one he knew was forced.
“I should start getting ready,”
I said, standing abruptly. “It takes me longer than you’d think to look presentable for ancient Irish ceremonies.”
“You have hours yet,”
Declan pointed out, checking his watch.
“I know, but...”
I gestured vaguely at myself. “This doesn’t happen by accident. I’ll meet you all at the club.”
Before I could escape the kitchen, Connor caught up with me in the hallway, gently pulling me into the small study off the main living area. He closed the door behind us, his eyes searching mine.
“What was it?”
he asked quietly. “Another message?”
I hesitated, then nodded, handing him my phone. His jaw tightened as he read the text, a muscle working in his cheek.
“We should tell Declan,”
he said, his voice low. “Increase security for the ceremony.”
“No,”
I replied firmly. “This is your day, Connor. I won’t let them ruin it with their threats.”
He set the phone down, taking my hands in his. “Your safety is more important than any ceremony.”
“I know,”
I said, squeezing his fingers. “But I also know these people. They’re trying to provoke me, to make me afraid. To make me feel like I don’t belong here.” I forced a smile. “I’m not giving them that satisfaction.”
Connor didn’t look convinced, but he nodded. “At least tell Winters. Her team can—”
“I will,”
I promised. “Right after I get ready.”
Back in our bedroom, I closed the door and leaned against it, the facade of composure crumbling. This wasn’t just another threat—the photograph proved they were here, watching, close enough to strike. Close enough to hurt not just me, but everyone I loved.
I moved to the window, scanning the tree line with practiced eyes. They could be out there now, watching this very room. My gaze shifted to the dresser where Connor had laid out my outfit for the ceremony—an elegant green dress that matched his kilt, a nod to my new place in the clan.
My new place. The thought struck a chord of bitter irony. I had fought so hard for this life, this family, this sense of belonging. But not if my presence was the very thing that put them in danger.
I picked up my phone, my finger hovering over Winters’ contact. But instead of calling her, I found myself opening a different app—the travel booking site I’d used during my operative days, with its anonymous payment options and last-minute availability.
The decision crystallized with sudden clarity. I couldn’t be here. Not today. Not when whoever sent that threat might be waiting for exactly this gathering—all the MacGallan’s in one place, celebrating, defenceless.
My hands moved swiftly, efficiently, packing only essentials into a small bag. The rational part of my brain argued that I was overreacting, that we could increase security, that running wasn’t the answer. But the operative in me—the part trained to assess threats and make split-second decisions—knew better.
As long as I remained with the family, the threats would never stop. Matheson’s allies would keep coming, using my new attachments as leverage, as targets. The only way to protect them was to remove myself from the equation.
I scribbled a note, tears blurring my vision as I struggled to find the right words. How do you explain to the person you love that leaving is the only way to keep them safe?
Connor,
By the time you read this, I’ll be gone. The threat this morning wasn’t random. They’re watching the house, watching me, and they’ll be watching the ceremony. I can’t risk them hurting you or anyone else because of me.
I know you’ll be angry. I know you’ll think I should have stayed and fought. But some battles can’t be won by standing your ground.
I love you more than I ever thought possible. Enough to walk away to keep you safe.
Please tell Lily I’m sorry. Tell Wren and Declan that I’m grateful for the family they gave me, however briefly.
—Mia
I placed the note on my pillow, knowing Connor would find it when he came looking for me. The flight I’d booked departed in three hours—enough time to slip away unnoticed while the family prepared for the ceremony.
I shouldered my bag and moved to the window, checking the grounds one last time before turning away. The lake sparkled in the morning sun, peaceful and perfect. I memorized the view, knowing it might be the last time I saw it.
I was halfway down the back stairs when a voice stopped me in my tracks.
“Going somewhere?”