Chapter 2
two
TWO WEEKS EARLIER
It wasn’t the rogue mercenaries, the frozen wasteland, or the billionaire party that had Elliot sweating about his next mission.
It was Rue.
Rue fucking Bristow.
He had exactly fourteen minutes to get his shit together before he was supposed to meet her at Atlas Frost’s penthouse.
Fourteen minutes to finish the security protocols for their Antarctica mission, brief his back-up, and somehow transform from a bone-tired operative reeling from his best friend’s betrayal into a man ready to face Rue in party mode.
He rubbed his eyes, willing away the gritty feeling of too little sleep. The mission parameters glowed on his screen—hostile environment, minimal support, and no idea who could be trusted. And Rue, determined and brilliant and completely incapable of admitting when she was in over her head.
His phone buzzed. Griffin’s name flashed on the screen.
“You’re late,” Elliot answered.
“Nice to hear your voice too, cuz,” Griffin drawled, the background noise suggesting he was still in transit. “Traffic’s a bitch. Be there in five.”
“Make it three. I need to get to Frost’s before Rue decides to do something crazy, like ditch the party and start the expedition early.”
“Ah, yes. The infamous Rue Bristow.” Griffin’s voice dripped with amusement. “The woman who has you wrapped around her little finger.”
“She does not—” Elliot bit off the rest of the sentence. Arguing would only encourage him. “Just get here.”
He hung up before Griffin could respond and turned back to the mission. The intel from Frost suggested Praetorian had an interest in the research station where Rue was heading. What they didn’t know was why, or how far they’d go to get whatever they wanted.
Five minutes later, the door to his office banged open with enough force to rattle the framed photos on his wall. He didn’t need to look up to know who it was. Only one person in the entire Wilde Security operation entered a room like they were breaching hostile territory.
Griffin Wilde.
The only son of Uncle Vaughn, the most intense of the original five Wilde brothers, Griffin shared his father’s intensity, but he also had a reckless streak a mile wide. A deadly combination that had made him one of WSW’s most effective operatives… and one of its biggest headaches.
“You summoned me?” Griff dropped into the chair across from Elliot’s desk, sprawling his long limbs. His cousin could make any space feel simultaneously too small and like it belonged to him.
Elliot finished typing the last of his notes before meeting Griffin’s expectant gaze. “I need you on standby for the Antarctica op.”
As the head of WSW’s ops division and the only one of his cousins with a pilot’s license, Griff was the best suited for this mission. If things went sideways, he needed someone who could handle the harsh conditions and extract them quickly.
“Antarctica?” Griffin’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re going to the actual ass-end of the earth? Don’t tell me you’ve developed a penguin fetish since I’ve been gone.”
“Rue’s leading an expedition to the Thwaites Research Station.” Elliot kept his voice neutral. “Word is Praetorian’s showing interest in whatever is going on there, so I’m going to make sure she doesn’t end up in their crosshairs.“
Griffin leaned forward, his expression shifting from amusement to something sharper. “So Davey’s sending you to babysit.”
“I volunteered.”
“Of course you did.” Griffin snorted. “And this has nothing to do with your thing for the little Bristow sister.”
Elliot fixed him with a flat stare. “I don’t have a thing for Rue.”
“Right.” Griffin’s smile turned almost predatory. “You hate the cold.”
“I don’t hate the cold.”
“You wore a thermal jacket to that Rangers game in October.”
“That’s just common sense. Most people don’t sit in a freezing ice rink in a T-shirt.”
Griffin grunted and kicked his feet up on the corner of Elliot’s desk. “So, any idea what Praetorian’s after?”
“Not yet.” Elliot tapped his tablet, sending the mission brief to Griffin’s secure WSW email account. “But whatever it is, they’re sinking a massive amount of money into the project and Atlas Frost is holding the purse strings.”
“Shit.” Griffin grabbed his phone as it signaled and scrolled through the brief on his phone. “So what’s my role in this frozen adventure?”
“You’re our extraction plan. If things go sideways, you’ll be on standby in Punta Arenas, Chile, to fly us out.”
“Sounds like a vacation. I’ll be hitting the slopes and getting lucky with some Chilean snow bunnies while you’re freezing your ass off.”
“You know it’s summer there, right?”
“Okay, so I’ll sunbathe with some Chilean beach bunnies.” Griffin’s smirk faded as he continued reading. “Wait—you’re going as her fiancé?”
Heat crept up Elliot’s neck. “It’s a cover.”
“A cover.” Griffin’s lips twitched. “Right.”
“The engagement gives us a reason to be together at all times without raising suspicion. Especially since Frost knows who I am.“
“Genius,” Griffin said, not bothering to hide his amusement. “And completely necessary, I’m sure.”
Elliot ignored the jab. “Davey approved it.”
“Davey’s been distracted lately.” Griffin’s expression darkened. “Ever since he tossed Cade out on his ass.”
The shift in conversation gave Elliot whiplash. “Cade wasn’t tossed out. He quit.”
“After Davey accused him of betraying the family.” Griffin’s voice hardened. “For what? Doing his job? Because Rowan couldn’t handle?—”
“Careful,” Elliot warned.
Griffin leaned forward, jaw tight. “Cade’s family. Rowan is just the woman Davey’s currently fuck?—”
“Be careful what you say next, Griff.” Elliot’s voice dropped low, all traces of exhaustion gone. “That’s my future sister-in-law.”
Griffin blinked, genuine surprise flashing across his face. “They’re engaged?”
“As of last week.”
“Well, shit.” Griffin exhaled slowly, the anger in his posture not quite dissipating but shifting into something more contained. “No one thought to mention that to me?”
“You’ve been in deep cover for three months,” Elliot reminded him. “And it just happened.”
Griffin ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, a habit he’d had since they were kids. “So Davey’s actually settling down. With Rowan Bristow of all people.”
“You got a problem with that?”
“You mean besides the fact that she’s an assassin?” Griffin’s laugh held no humor. “Or that she had a contract for Davey’s head?”
Elliot felt his patience wearing dangerously thin. “She saved his life. Multiple times.”
“After endangering it in the first place.”
“That’s not how it happened, and you know it. They’re good together. In their own weird, slightly terrifying way.”
Griffin snorted. “Yeah, well, at least now I know why Davey’s been walking around with little hearts circling his head.”
Elliot checked his watch. Seven minutes left. “Look, I didn’t call you in here to gossip. Are you in for Antarctica or not?”
Griffin studied him for a long moment, then shrugged. “I’m in. Someone’s got to watch your back when you’re playing house with the younger Bristow.”
“It’s not—” Elliot caught himself. Arguing would only feed Griffin’s mean streak. “The mission brief has all the details. I need you ready to move on short notice.”
“Always am.” Griffin stood, stretching his tall frame. “When do you leave?”
“Three days.” Elliot gathered his tablet and phone, mentally calculating how long it would take to get to Frost’s penthouse. “I’m meeting Rue at Frost’s pre-expedition party tonight. You should come.”
Griffin’s eyebrows shot up. “To a party at Atlas Frost’s? Hard pass. That guy is fucking nightmare fuel.”
“He’s Rue’s benefactor. And our best source of intel on Praetorian’s movements.”
“He’s also the most dangerous man in Manhattan,” Griffin countered. “And he looks at you like he’s calculating the most efficient way to dispose of your body.”
Elliot couldn’t argue with that. Frost had that effect on people. “All the more reason to keep an eye on him.”
“Your funeral.” Griffin moved toward the door, then paused. “You sure you want to take this one, E? After what happened with Brody?—”
“I’m fine,” Elliot cut him off, sharper than he intended. He softened his tone. “Davey’s already hovering like I’m made of glass. Don’t need it from you too.”
“Brody almost killed you a few weeks ago.”
“I remember.”
“He was your best friend.”
Elliot rose from his chair and checked his watch again. Five minutes to get to Frost’s. “And the best way to put that behind me is to do my job.”
Griffin held his gaze for a long moment, then shrugged. “Fine. But watch yourself with Frost. And with Rue.”
“Rue’s not the problem.”
“No?” Griffin’s mouth quirked. “Then why are you fidgeting with your tie like you’re heading to prom?”
Elliot’s hands froze, suddenly aware he’d been adjusting his already-perfect tie. He dropped his hands to his sides. “Just making sure I look presentable.”
“For a cover story?” Griffin’s eyebrows arched. “Or for your fake fiancée?”
“For a high-society event at Atlas Frost’s penthouse.” He grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair. “For a mission with potentially international consequences.”
Griffin’s answering grin was all teeth. “Keep telling yourself that, cuz.”
Elliot checked his watch again and swore under his breath. “We’ll finish this later. Just be ready.”
“Always am,” Griffin said as he headed to the door. He paused at the threshold and glanced back. ”Just... be careful, cuz. With Frost, with Praetorian. With her.”
“I’m always careful.”
Griffin’s laugh was sharp and genuine. “No, you’re not.
You’re just better at hiding the reckless shit than the rest of us.
But don’t worry. I’ll be ready to pull your ass out if you need me.
“ He tapped his knuckles against the doorframe. “And for what it’s worth, I’m happy for Davey. Just wish it hadn’t cost us Cade.”
Elliot didn’t move as Griff vanished down the hallway. The mention of Cade twisted in his chest. Another fracture in their family, another casualty of the war with Praetorian.
But he couldn’t fix that right now.
He had exactly three minutes to get to Frost’s, and being late to Atlas Frost’s party wasn’t just rude, it was potentially dangerous.
He snatched up his keys and moved for the elevator, checking his reflection in the polished steel doors as they slid shut. Griffin hadn’t been wrong about the tie. He looked like he was trying too hard, which was absurd. This was a mission, nothing more. Another cover to keep intact.
The fact that his pulse kicked up a notch every time he thought about spending three weeks pretending to be engaged to Rue Bristow was irrelevant.
The elevator descended toward the parking garage, and Elliot tried to focus on the tactical elements of the evening.
Frost’s penthouse would be crawling with New York’s elite—politicians, tech moguls, old money socialites.
Any one of them could be connected to Praetorian, feeding information back to their handlers.
He needed to stay sharp, watch for tells, catalog faces and conversations.
The elevator dinged softly as it reached the garage level. Elliot stepped out into the concrete cavern of WSW’s underground parking, his footsteps echoing off the walls. His motorcycle waited in its designated spot—a sleek black Ducati that could slice through Manhattan traffic like a blade.
He swung his leg over the bike and fired up the engine, the rumble reverberating through the garage. The familiar weight of the machine beneath him helped center his thoughts. This was what he was good at—moving fast, thinking faster, staying one step ahead of whatever was coming.
Even if what was coming was Rue in a cocktail dress, probably already three drinks in and charming information out of every dangerous person in the room.
The ride to Frost’s building took exactly four minutes through the maze of Manhattan streets.
Elliot pulled up to the valet stand outside the gleaming tower that housed Atlas Frost’s penthouse, handing over his bike to a young man who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.
If he had the time, he’d have parked it himself. But he didn’t have time.
The lobby was all marble and glass, designed to intimidate. It didn’t work. Much.
He announced himself to the security desk and waited while they verified his invitation, studying the cameras positioned at every angle. Frost didn’t take chances with his security, which made him wonder what exactly the man was protecting.
The private elevator to the penthouse required a key card, which the security guard swiped before hitting the button for the fiftieth floor.
As the doors slid shut and the elevator began its ascent, Elliot felt the familiar pre-mission tension settle into his shoulders.
By the time those doors opened again, he’d be in character.
Rue’s devoted fiancé, protective but not overbearing, successful enough to run in Frost’s circles but not threatening enough to be a problem.
The elevator climbed silently through the floors, each number lighting up in sequence. Forty-seven. Forty-eight. Forty-nine.
At fifty, the doors opened onto another world entirely.