Chapter 52 | Anna
We didn’t leave at first light. It was two days.
Two days of agonized waiting. I hated waiting for anything. Especially when the thing I was waiting for was home.
Kincade had said first light like it was a done deal. Calm voice, steady hands, as if the world obeyed him. It usually did. Annoying.
But “prepared” was his religion. I was the convert he’d decided to save. And apparently he was making me prove I could survive two days without setting something on fire. I’d been close. Twice.
The worst part? I couldn’t even be properly furious, because every time I tried, my brain served up the memory like a traitor. His hands on my face, his mouth on mine, and that low, ruthless truth. It had knocked the air out of me. I loved you the second you pepper-sprayed me.
Who says that? Who confesses love like that?
An ancient man with baggage, that’s who.
And then, like it was a binding spell, my own stupid whisper in his chest, No backsies.
Of all the things I could have said.
God, I was ridiculous.
And completely, impossibly gone for him.
The two days had been a blur of logistics I wasn’t allowed to help with. Ludwig packing weapons like he was preparing for war. Ulrich mapping routes with the intensity of someone planning a moon landing. Kincade coordinating with Silas in low voices I wasn’t meant to overhear.
I’d tried to help. Been politely redirected. Repeatedly.
And then Silas appeared like a ghost in the night with an envelope for me. My passport, a spare credit card, my favorite lip balm, which had Grace written all over it. Like someone had reached into the life I’d left behind and handed me proof it was still mine.
Silas had provided passports for the others, too, like he kept a guy for that in his hip pocket.
Who was I kidding? He probably did. The network was connected and vast.
It was well past midnight when I stood in the doorway of the courtyard for the last time, listening to the fountain’s murmur and memorizing the way the string lights made the flagstone glow.
This was the place where everything changed again—where I reconnected with my mother, where he confessed, and where I realized I could survive the next turning of the world.
He was behind me—I knew he was—still as a shadow, giving me one last breath of a place where I could hide.
I turned away at last.
“I’m ready,” I said.
And when I did, he held out his hand to me. I took it and together, we walked out of the villa for the last time.
Four months had passed since I was taken from the manor. It had been summer. Now autumn was making a serious argument for winter.
I sat in the backseat of the sedan, hands in my lap, about to vibrate out of my skin. Kincade sat beside me doing his rugged, I’m-too-cool-to-be-nervous thing. Ludwig drove. Ulrich rode shotgun.
We’d flown into Bristol, made it through customs with no issues, and were now making the drive toward the manor as the sun came up. The morning was clear and cold. At least it wasn’t raining.
Ludwig made the last turn and ahead, I saw the gates. New iron ones with a giant W in the center. My mouth went dry, my heart pounding like it wanted out.
Next to me, Kincade reached for my hand. He didn’t say anything. Didn’t even look at me. Quiet comfort he’d become so good at.
There was a callbox at the gate. Ludwig pushed the button.
A deep male voice answered, “Cleared for entry.”
Like it had been planned. Like we were expected.
We were.
It had Silas’s fingerprints all over it.
Ludwig drove through. Gravel crunched under the tires.
And then I said, “Stop the car.”
He did. I was out before he even put it in park. If I was going to live behind guards, then I wanted to know who was holding the line.
I walked with purpose back toward the guard shack. Behind me, doors opened and shut. I didn’t have to look to know Kincade was a few steps behind me.
His M.O.
At the shack, I paused at the open door. The man inside didn’t hide his surprise when he saw me.
He was tall like the others—seriously, was it a prerequisite to be six-foot-plus?—with a youthful face and bright green eyes. His blond hair was cropped short. He wore a black coat with a W embroidered on the chest—the same style as the one on the gate. Like this place had uniforms now.
Silas thought of everything, didn’t he?
“Hi,” I said, with a nod.
“Hello?” He looked confused. A faint English accent.
“Do you know who I am?” I asked.
Behind me, footsteps stopped. I didn’t have to turn to know Kincade had gone still. The young man’s gaze flicked to him, then back to me.
When he didn’t answer, I stuck out my hand. “Anna Walker.”
“Oh.” He hesitated, then shook my hand. “William.”
“Nice to meet you, William.” I peered past him into the shack. A monitor, like Silas had promised. A radio. An uncomfortable stool. A stainless-steel mug.
“Coffee or tea, William?”
He blinked, still thrown. I motioned to the mug.
“Tea,” he said, like he wasn’t sure why he was answering.
“What kind?”
Again, he looked at Kincade, like hoping for an explanation. Or a rescue.
“Earl Grey,” he said.
“Cream and sugar?”
He nodded.
“Great. I’ll make sure you have fresh,” I said. “How long is your shift, William?”
I hadn’t intended to grill the poor kid, but here we were.
“Twelve hours,” he said. “Ma’am.”
Behind me, a faint snicker.
“Don’t call me ma’am,” I said, voice even.
“Sorry. Miss Walker.”
Heat flared up my neck. “Not that either. Just Anna.”
“Okay,” he said quickly.
“Where do you stay? On the estate?”
“Anna—” Kincade’s voice, warning.
I waved him off.
“Uh… the bunkhouse.”
“Bunkhouse?” I turned to Kincade. “You know about a bunkhouse?”
“No.”
“It’s the stables,” William offered.
“The stables,” I repeated. Then to Kincade, “I want to see them.”
“Now?” he asked.
“Yes. Now.” I looked back at William. “Thanks for the chat.”
Then I pivoted and headed for the car. Kincade fell in step beside me.
“What was that about?” he asked.
“If there are going to be men living on my estate and guarding it, I intend to meet every single one of them.”
“All of them?” His brows lifted.
“Yes. We can start with the perimeter guards after I see the stables. Oh, and get that kid a better chair. That stool looks like a medieval torture device.”
None of them moved. Ludwig stayed by the driver’s door. Ulrich watched me like he was recalculating.
Then Kincade said, “You heard the lady. Let’s go.”
He got in and shut the door. I slid in beside him.
“I thought I wasn’t a lady,” I said.
“You have your moments,” he replied.
“To the stables, Ludwig,” I called.
“She always this bossy?” Ludwig asked.
“You have no idea,” Kincade said.
I grinned.
The stables were on the east side of the estate—a separate outbuilding that once housed thoroughbreds. Edward had sold them off at some point, leaving the place hollow and unused.
I was out again before anyone else, marching toward the door. It never occurred to me there would be anyone in there until I barged through and halted.
Seven men.
Three in various states of undress—that was awkward—two playing cards, and two who popped up from a stall to see who’d arrived.
Behind me: Ludwig and Ulrich.
Beside me: the imposing presence that was Kincade.
“Put a shirt on,” Kincade barked.
Ah. So, we were doing jealous this morning.
They scrambled to obey. All but one.
But I wasn’t looking at them—okay, a little, because abs—I was looking at the living conditions and feeling my stomach drop.
Narrow iron-frame beds had been shoved into stalls that used to house horses.
“This is the bunkhouse?” I said.
“I’m sure it’s a work in progress,” Kincade said, like that made it better.
“These are men,” I snapped, heat rising. “Not livestock.”
One of them—who looked like Ludwig’s flirty twin—decided to press his luck. Dark hair. Black eyes. Nice smile. Dimples.
He was still holding a shirt like it was personally offensive to cover his torso.
“Hello, gorgeous,” he said.
Kincade stepped between me and him so fast it was funny.
Gosh, he was possessive.
I liked it.
“Shirt,” Kincade said.
The man’s mouth twitched. “She looked like she was enjoying the show.”
Kincade glared back at me over his shoulder.
I shrugged. Innocent. Because, dammit, my expressions never lied.
“I can be furious and appreciative at the same time.”
“Apparently.” His mouth flattened into a straight line.
I expected to have a discussion about this later.
“All right,” I said, clapping the moment shut. “This needs to be fixed immediately. If they’re going to live here, they’re going to have a decent place to stay. And tell Silas I want the bill this time.”
I snapped into business mode, pretending there weren’t seven hot men standing around staring at me.
“Is someone taking notes?” I asked, looking back at Ulrich and Ludwig.
Ludwig’s hand lifted like he was in class. “Do you want bullet points or a spreadsheet, boss?”
Ulrich didn’t speak. He pulled a small notebook from his coat like he’d been waiting his whole life for this moment.
“We can start with bullet points,” I snapped.
And then introductions were made. Honestly, I doubted I’d remember their names by the time we left. Night shift—sleep-deprived, suspicious, and quickly recalibrating when they realized who I was. Not a girl with a smart mouth.
The person who owned the place.
And Kincade wasn’t some towering menace—he was in charge of them.
I loved that we’d crashed their morning unannounced.
Rather than get back in the car, I walked the estate. He already knew the routes of the two perimeter guards and fell in step next to me. Behind us, Ludwig and Ulrich.
“You really should have announced yourself first,” he said.
“I like the element of surprise. Keeps them on their toes.”
He gave me a sideways glance.
“They weren’t naked,” I said, trying to make it sound better.
“Good thing.”
“It’s not my fault your men are all eye candy.”
“Not helping.” But he sounded amused. And maybe a little annoyed.
I wondered if he had sudden regret. But then I hooked my arm around his. “You don’t have anything to worry about.”
“It’s not you I’m worried about.”