72. Lars
Rowan is standing at the end of the conference table talking about something related to financial routing when my phone vibrates against the polished wood in front of me.
Normally, I would ignore it. Enzo hates interruptions during meetings, and most people who work for this family understand that if something is important enough to interrupt us, they’ll call twice.
But as Violette’s name flashes across the screen, something cold sinks into my chest. She and Neomi were going shopping this morning.
I pick up the phone before the second vibration finishes.
“Vi?”
“Are you at the estate?” she asks, and the tension in her voice has the bile rising in my throat.
“Yes, what’s wrong?”
Enzo turns, his eyes focused on me, his jaw tight.
“Are you with Enzo?”
My grip tightens around the phone. “Yes, what happened?”
A brief pause stretches across the line.
“Neomi’s car exploded.”
For a split second, my brain refuses to process the words. Fear courses through my veins.
“What? Vi, was she in the car?”
“No, thank God,” Violette says quickly. “Listen to me, Lars, she’s alive. Your girl is a little banged up, but she’s okay.”
The air rushes back into my lungs in a violent gasp.
“Where is she?”
“Northwestern Memorial,” she replies.
“I’m on my way.”
I’m already moving before I hang up the call. My chair scrapes loudly across the floor as I stand.
Enzo rises with me. “Lars, what happened?”
I’m already heading for the door. “Neomi’s car exploded.”
The room goes completely silent.
“Is she alive?”
“Yes. Fuck, Enzo, I need to get to her.”
Dante is already grabbing his jacket.
Enzo moves past me with quiet authority, his voice cutting cleanly through the stunned silence left behind in the room. “Rowan, lock everything down. I want eyes on every camera between here and that hospital. No delays or blind spots.”
Chairs scrape. Orders ripple outward. The machine starts moving.
I don’t stay to hear the rest. My pulse is too loud, too fast, every beat slamming hard against my ribs as we move through the halls. Doors open ahead of us before we reach them, security already falling into place around us.
Enzo grips my shoulder as we step into the garage, his voice low and controlled, anchoring. “She’ll be okay, Fratello. I’ll get you to her as fast as I can.”
“I know,” I say, but the words don’t process. They don’t stick. They don’t settle the storm tearing through me. “I know, but—”
But she was supposed to be safe, she was with Violette on an ordinary afternoon. She was just going shopping.
The car door slams as I drop into the passenger seat. Enzo is already behind the wheel, the engine roaring to life before I’ve even buckled in. The convoy moves instantly—two SUVs locking in behind us, another pulling ahead. The gate opens, and we’re gone.
The city blurs past the windshield in streaks of sunlight. I drag a hand through my hair, my breath uneven. I need to hear her voice. I need to know if she’s okay.
Then I think of Gabriel.
My hands shake as I pull my phone from my pocket, dialing his number. He answers on the first ring.
“Lars?”
“Neomi,” I say, the word catching in my throat before I force it out. “Her car exploded.”
The silence that follows is tight, coiled with fear.
“Is she…is she all right?” he asks, his voice shaking in a way that makes my chest tighten further.
“Yes,” I breathe. “She’s okay. She’s at Northwestern Memorial getting checked out.”
“I’m on my way. Stay calm, baby.”
I blow out a tight breath. “I’m having trouble with that right now.”
“I know, but she’ll be okay. I’ll see you in a couple of minutes, okay? I love you, Lars.”
I look down, picking a piece of lint off my pant leg. “Okay. Love you, too.”
He hangs up the call, and I stare at the screen before dropping my hand, my breath refusing to settle. The panic is still there, sharp and insistent, clawing its way up from somewhere deep.
Enzo glances at me, his expression unreadable, but his presence solid. “We’re almost there,” he says.
I nod, but it’s reflex. Because my mind is already imagining the scene—smoke, fire, metal twisting under heat. The image forms whether I want it to or not, each detail sharper than the last. What if she had been closer? What if—
“Lars.”
Enzo’s voice cuts through it, firmer now. I look at him.
“Don’t spiral before you see her,” he says, his tone steady and grounding. “You need to hold it together until we know exactly what we’re dealing with.”
There’s no judgment in it. It’s just Enzo walking me back from the edge. He knows me better than anyone in this world, and he can tell I’m crumbling inside.
It’s the only thing that keeps me from breaking apart completely.
I swallow hard and force a nod. “Okay.”
But my hands still won’t stop shaking.
The hospital doors slide open, and security moves ahead of us, clearing space, voices low and efficient. I can barely hear them. The world narrows, everything else fading until there’s only one thing left in focus.
Her.
Neomi sits upright in the hospital bed, a thin blanket draped over her legs, a nurse bracing her shoulder while a doctor leans in close, finishing a careful pass with a pair of tweezers.
A small shard of glass catches the light before he drops it into a metal tray already dotted with others.
Her hair is damp where they’ve been working, pushed back to expose a shallow cut near her hairline, and a deeper bruise has begun to bloom along her temple.
She winces, her fingers tightening in the blanket, and a soft cough breaks from her chest.
Every muscle in my body locks.
The doctor glances up when I step into the room, assessing me in a second before shifting his attention back to Neomi. “Almost done,” he says, voice steady, like this is routine. Like she didn’t just walk away from something that could have killed her.
He removes one last fragment, smaller than the rest, and drops it into the tray with a quiet clink. “That’s it,” he adds, setting the instrument aside. “We’ve cleared the visible debris. The cuts are superficial. She was lucky.”
Neomi exhales slowly, her shoulders easing, but she coughs again, harder this time. The doctor’s gaze flicks to her throat, then back to me as he steps away and strips off his gloves.
“She’s dealing with some smoke inhalation,” he explains. “Irritation in the airways, which is causing the coughing. We’ll monitor her oxygen levels, but right now she’s stable.”
My eyes move to the gauze packed against her ear.
“What happened to her ear?” I ask.
“Ruptured eardrum,” he says plainly. “The pressure from the blast can do that. Her hearing on that side will be affected for a while, though the eardrum should heal on its own. We’ll have her follow up with a specialist.”
I nod, but the information doesn’t settle well. It just stacks on top of the fear.
He continues, “Bruising, minor lacerations, and some impact trauma, but nothing life-threatening. Given the circumstances…” He lets the sentence trail off, like even he knows how close this came to going another way.
My gaze finds hers.
She’s watching me, eyes clear despite everything. And that’s what breaks something open in my chest.
“She’s going to be okay?” I ask, my voice low.
The doctor meets my eyes. “Yes. She’s going to be okay.”
Only then do I move toward her.
“Neomi.” My voice breaks before I can stop it.
“Hey,” she breathes.
I’m across the room in seconds. I gently take her hand, needing the contact.
“You’re okay,” I say, but it sounds like I’m trying to convince myself.
“I’m okay,” she repeats, her hands coming up to cover mine, grounding me. “I’m right here.”
I want to hold her, pull her to me, but I’m scared I’ll hurt her. Instead, I lift her hand and place a gentle kiss. I hold her hand to my lips, not wanting to let her go.
“That call scared the hell out of me,” I whisper against her.
Her free arm wraps around me. “I know,” she whispers. “It happened so fast, Lars. One second I was unlocking the door, and the next—”
I lean back, my thumb brushing gently against her cheek, my chest still too tight.
“Don’t,” I say quietly. “You’re here. That’s all that matters.”
The door opens behind us.
I turn just as Gabriel steps into the room, and for a moment, everything stills.
His gaze goes to Neomi first, scanning every detail before it shifts to me. Something dark and shaken moves through his expression, quickly buried beneath control.
“She’s okay,” I say, even though he can see it.
He steps closer, slower than I did, like he’s holding something back.
“Hi,” Neomi says softly.
His hand comes up to cradle her jaw, his thumb brushing just beneath the bruise with care. “My little Siren,” he replies, his voice soft.
For a moment, the three of us exist in that small space, the world narrowing again, but this time it’s different. It’s quiet and fragile.
She reaches for both of us, her fingers threading through mine and then his, pulling us closer together.
“We’re okay,” she says softly, like she’s trying to anchor all of us in that truth.
Maybe it’s the adrenaline wearing off, or it’s the sight of my wife in a hospital bed, battered by something that I know was caused by my world, but the edges of panic are creeping in before I can stop it. The room feels too small, the air thinner and I feel my pulse skyrocket through my body.
“I need a second,” I say, my voice rough.
Neomi’s grip tightens. “Lars—”
“I’ll be right back,” I add quickly, already stepping away before I lose control completely.
The hallway is quiet, and that should give me a bit of peace, but I still feel it. My hands brace against the wall as I try to breathe, but it isn’t working. My chest is tight, my pulse too fast, my thoughts spinning too quickly to catch.
Footsteps approach behind me. Gabriel stops beside me.
“Breathe, baby.”
“I’m trying.” I force out.
Gabriel removes one of my hands from the wall and places it on his chest.
“Focus on my breath. Match it.”
I feel his chest rise and fall. I hear his breath leaving his lips. Slowly, I try to match it. He stands with me, breathing with me until I begin to feel some sense of calm.
“Talk to me,” he says quietly.
A harsh breath leaves me. “We could’ve lost her.”
My words are raw and exposed.
“But we didn’t; she’s okay,” he says, steady.
“I know,” I snap, pushing off the wall and dragging my hands through my hair.
“I know that, but she wasn’t supposed to be in danger in the first place.
She was with Violette, in the middle of the day, and someone got close enough to put a bomb in her car.
” My voice cracks. “I feel like it’s my fault,” I continue, pacing now, my hands shaking.
“I brought her into this world, and I can’t keep her safe. ”
Gabriel doesn’t interrupt.
“What does that say about us?” I demand, turning toward him. “I couldn’t keep my wife safe. What if I can’t keep you safe? If they can reach her out there, what happens when they decide to come for you too?”
The words keep tumbling out of me uncontrollably. I drag a hand down my face, forcing a breath in, then out.
“I can’t lose her,” I say, quieter now. “I can’t lose either of you.”
Gabriel moves to me, wrapping his strong arms around me, and that’s when I break. His hand moves to the back of my neck, kneading the knotted muscles there. I drop my head to his shoulder, the scent of cedar and mint fills my senses, calming me.
His hand runs up and down my back as he whispers, “We’re not going anywhere, Lars. We’ll get her home. You can do whatever you do to increase security, and you’ll find out who did this.”
“I hope they know they just signed their own death warrant,” I say, anger replacing the panic.
Gabriel sighs, amused. “Our protector.”
He places a kiss on my shoulder, gripping my arms to pull me back. His energy is calm and gentle.
“We need to be steady for her right now. We’ll wage the war later, but right now, I want you to be her rock. Okay?”
I suck in a breath and let it out slowly. “Yeah, okay.”
“Good. Now let’s go take care of our girl.”