Chapter 5
Burning Bridges
Anton:
I've killed men with my bare hands, watched the light fade from their eyes without flinching. Made peace with the kind of darkness that would break most people.
But sitting in this car, listening to Fee's breathing, soft, trusting, alive, terror claws at my chest. Not the clean fear of a gun to my head. Something infinitely worse.
The fear of losing her.
Lorenzo's gates loom ahead, black iron twisted into symbols of power. Every instinct screams at me to turn around, to take Fee somewhere safe, somewhere I control. Instead,
I pull directly to the mansion's main entrance.
This isn't my territory. These aren't my rules. And I can't solve this with violence. Can't put a bullet in the problem and walk away. This requires something far more dangerous than killing.
Politics.
I pull directly to the mansion's main entrance. Carrying Fee against my chest, I approach the mansion. The massive doors open, revealing Moira with Lorenzo and Connor behind them.
"Fee!" Moira's hands flutter toward us. "What happened to your foot?"
"I just stepped on some broken glass."
Moira's expression shifts as she processes Fee's careful phrasing. Her green eyes narrow slightly, that Quinn intelligence picking apart what Fee isn't saying.
"Broken glass," she repeats slowly.
I enter the home and pause in the foyer, allowing the sisters their moment.
Fee sighs. "It was an attack at the boutique. But I'm here, Moira. I had protection."
Moira's hand flies to her mouth, the other instinctively cradling her belly. "Attack?"
Her gaze shifts to Lorenzo with laser precision. He remains impassive, but I catch the slight tightening around his eyes.
Connor clears his throat. "Perhaps we should get Fee settled first."
Smart man.
"I'm fine, please don't worry." Fee reaches out to squeeze Moira's hand, and I shift slightly to accommodate the gesture.
"Look at you, though. You're glowing. Motherhood is powerful, Moira.
You're carrying life, growing by the minute, and your petite frame is handling it like the powerhouse you are. "
The deflection works partially. Moira's worried expression softens as she glances down at her rounded belly, but I can see she's filing away questions for later.
"The medical quarters are upstairs," Lorenzo says, his voice carefully neutral. "My personal physician will examine Fee."
We head toward the grand staircase. Moira's breathing becomes labored halfway up, so I slow my pace.
"The stairs are harder now," she admits, pausing on the landing. "Everything's harder."
"Except looking radiant," Fee says firmly. "That part you've mastered."
"You're required to say that because you're my sister." Moira manages a smile.
Her smile wavers as we reach the top. "The doctor thinks I might need a C-section. The baby's measuring too big."
Fee tenses in my arms. "A C-section?"
"It's safer for both of them," Lorenzo says, his hand finding Moira's back.
"Then that's what we'll do." Fee's voice carries steel. "I'm staying here as long as you need me. Someone has to be here to give you a break from Mom."
Moira's eyes widen with understanding. "Oh God, she's gone from never being here to being here constantly. It's..."
"Too much," Fee finishes. "See?"
"I love her, but yes. Too much." Moira stops halfway down the marble hallway, catching her breath against the wall.
Lorenzo immediately sweeps her into his arms.
Connor opens the door to the medical quarters, a room equipped like a scaled-down emergency room. I set Fee onto the examination table.
"Thank you," she says, squeezing my wrist.
"Always."
Lorenzo's doctor examines Fee's foot, confirms my stitches are clean, and recommends staying off it for a few days. Fee accepts crutches despite my offer to carry her, that stubborn independence I'm learning to expect from her.
We settle both sisters in the upstairs living area, a spacious room with oversized sofas overlooking manicured gardens. Fee immediately places her hand on Moira's rounded belly, both of them laughing over their shared craving for strawberries.
This is what Fee needed: her sister, familiar comfort, safety.
But peace and security aren't the same thing.
"I'll be right downstairs," I tell Fee. "I'll be back."
Her lips curve into that small smile that's become my weakness. "I'm not going anywhere."
"Good," I reply, holding her gaze.
Moira gives me a knowing look, clearly amused by the tension between us. "Go handle business, Anton. I'll take good care of Fee."
Fee's cheeks flush slightly at the obvious implication, but her smile deepens.
She's opening up to me again. Not completely, I can still see the careful distance she's maintaining. I dug this hole with my fear, my retreat when she needed me to be brave. Now I have to climb out of it.
Whatever it takes. Attention, gifts, patience, honesty—I'll shower her with everything until she trusts me again. Until she looks at me the way she did before I walked away.
Fee's eyes follow me until I disappear from view, and that knowledge burns through me like whiskey.
I follow Lorenzo to his study where Connor waits, his weathered face etched with tension.
The study door closes behind us with a click that sounds like a trap snapping shut.
Lorenzo settles behind his massive oak desk. Connor doesn't sit; he stays by the windows, silhouetted against the night. The darkness carves deep shadows across his weathered face, turning every line into something harder.
Lorenzo leans forward, his dark eyes sharpening. "What exactly did Shane see in that tailor shop?"
"Shane only said one thing before the sedatives took over again," I begin, watching both men's faces carefully. "He saw someone. Just a glimpse, but enough to recognize the type."
Connor straightens against the window frame. "What type?"
"A contractor. Professional killer." The words hang in the air like smoke from a gun barrel. "Yuri's calling with more details once Shane's conscious enough to talk coherently."
Lorenzo's knuckles whiten against his desk surface. "How professional are we talking?"
"The kind who charges seven figures and should not have missed." I move closer to the desk, noting how both men unconsciously shift their weight, preparing for bad news. "Shane's lucky to be breathing."
Connor's weathered face hardens further. "What about Morrison? Shane was supposed to meet the bastard."
"No sign of the judge at the scene." I cross my arms, studying Connor's expression. "Which raises an interesting question about who Shane was really meeting."
The silence stretches, loaded with implications none of us want to voice.
"That fucking son of a bitch." Connor's words carry the cold fury of a man who's been played. "Morrison set Shane up."
"Morrison's a middleman at best," I reply. "Someone like this doesn't work for a corrupt judge. Morrison can't be doing this alone."
Lorenzo drums his fingers against the desk, a rhythmic sound that matches the ticking clock on his wall. "The question is why target Fee specifically. She's not involved in family business."
"She witnessed something," I say with absolute certainty. "Or our killer thinks she did."
Connor's entire body goes rigid. "My daughter is being stalked by a professional killer."
"Both your daughters," I correct quietly, my gaze shifting to Lorenzo. "Anyone targeting Fee would know about Moira's location. Her vulnerability."
The temperature in the room drops ten degrees.
Lorenzo rises from his chair with the controlled violence of a predator. His dark eyes lock onto mine with laser focus.
"My security here is absolute."
"Against normal threats, yes." I don't back down, matching his intensity. "But we're not dealing with normal."
Lorenzo steps around his desk, closing the distance between us. "Forty fucking armed men. Motion sensors on every damn perimeter. Bulletproof glass on every window, and that's not fucking enough for you, Anton?"
"Do you think that could stop someone with my skill set?" I challenge.
"Are you calling me incompetent?" Lorenzo's hand moves toward his jacket, stopping just short of his weapon. "You think I can't handle one fucking man?"
"I think you're underestimating what we're dealing with." I shift my stance, ready for whatever comes next. "And I think your pride is going to get both women killed."
"Lorenzo," Connor's voice warns. "He's not the enemy here."
Lorenzo's dark eyes never leave mine. "No? He walks into my home, questions my competence, insults my security, and expects me to fucking smile and thank him?"
I lean back against the wall, crossing my arms as I study Lorenzo's face. Time to lay all the cards on the table.
"Those seven-figure contracts I mentioned?" I let the words settle in the charged air. "When they come through the Basovs, most of them come to me directly."
Lorenzo's expression shifts, the pieces clicking into place. His dark eyes narrow as he reassesses exactly who he's been arguing with.
"I'm the killer they send when the target is supposed to be unkillable." I keep my voice conversational, matter-of-fact, no need to turn this into a shootout. "Heads of state. Rival bosses who think they're untouchable. Men like you, Lorenzo, who believe their security is absolute."
The room goes dead silent. Connor straightens from his position by the window, suddenly understanding the stakes.
"So when I tell you that your security isn't enough, it's not an insult. It's a professional assessment from someone who makes a living proving people wrong about their invincibility."
Lorenzo's laugh starts low and builds into something unhinged, borderline maniacal. His head tilts back as the sound fills the study, echoing off the marble and expensive paintings.
"Entertain me, Baev." His voice carries that dangerous edge I've heard right before men die. "What's your plan?"
"Simple test." I meet his manic energy with cold calculation. "You put your guards on high alert. Tell them there's a credible threat against Moira and Fee. Given today's attack, Moira will expect heightened security anyway."
Lorenzo's laughter cuts off abruptly. "And then?"
"I infiltrate your mansion. I get to Fee." I watch his face carefully. "When I do, two things happen. First, I tell you exactly how I breached your defenses so you can fix them. Second, Fee comes with me."
Connor pushes away from the window. "You want to take my daughter?"
"Yes." I turn to face him directly. "To a place where I control every variable. Where security isn't just forty men with guns, but contingency after contingency built by someone who thinks like our enemy."
"My security is impenetrable," Lorenzo snarls.
"Prove it."
Lorenzo's smile turns predatory. "Go right ahead, Baev. But I'm telling my men to shoot to kill. You breach my perimeter, you die."
"I wouldn't expect anything less." I shrug. "Fair warning, though, you'll end up with a lot of unconscious guards. Might want to call for reinforcements."
"When?"
"Tonight."
The gauntlet is thrown down. Lorenzo's hands flatten against his desk, knuckles white with controlled rage. Connor watches this exchange with the expression of a man watching a train wreck in slow motion.
"You arrogant piece of shit!"
My phone cuts through the tension with sharp insistence. Yuri's number flashes on the screen.
"Da?"
"Anton." Yuri's voice carries a dark tone. "Morrison's been shot."