Chapter 48
FORTY-EIGHT
TRISTAN
Istand at the edge of the cliffs early this morning, watching the sun bleed over the water while I run through the plan one final time.
The gala tonight isn't a party.
It's a kill box.
Every major player in the trafficking network will be on that yacht, lured by the promise of expanded territory and new partnerships. No authorities, no media, no trials.
Just elimination.
Zoe extracts Hale from the hotel during the gala, takes him to a safe house in Connecticut. Thirty minutes later, Cat gets Keira off the yacht through a service exit. Dom will take her to Hale, where they'll be reunited and safe before the blood starts flowing.
Once they're clear, Aaron and I move through the vessel. Every trafficker on board disappears into the Hudson by sunrise. The evidence Cat's compiled isn't for the feds. It's for hunting down every remaining cell in the months that follow.
And Calder?
Calder is mine.
Everyone knows it. Whatever happens to him, however long it takes—that's between me and the man who stole seven years from the woman I love.
Every variable accounted for. Every contingency mapped. Nothing left to chance.
By tomorrow, Keira will be free. Calder's reign ends in blood.
I should feel confident.
Instead, I feel like I'm standing on the edge of something I can't see the bottom of.
The convoy loads just after seven.
Three black SUVs idle in the pale morning light, exhaust curling into the cold air. Calder's security detail moves quickly—loading luggage, checking vehicles, doing everything they're paid to do without ever seeing what's right in front of them.
It never ceases to amaze me how much fear, power, and money warp perception. In the wrong hands, blindness becomes a feature, not a flaw.
I'm positioned by the lead car when Keira emerges from the house.
Even from this distance, dressed simply for travel, she hits me like a blow to the chest. Hair pulled back. No makeup. A cream sweater that makes her look soft in a way that's completely at odds with the steel I know lives inside her.
I still don't understand Calder's obsession with dressing her in light colors. Like he's trying to turn her into something pure. Something he can corrupt.
Hale is holding her hand, chattering about something while clutching a stuffed dinosaur to his chest.
My son.
My blood.
Walking toward me without knowing who I am.
The urge to cross the gravel and pull them both into my arms is so strong.
You can do all of that soon.
Calder walks out last. Navy suit, silver cuff links, hair still thinning on schedule. He glances at me as soon as he steps outside.
Strange.
He never spares me a look unless he wants something.
Then his gaze shifts to Keira, and something in my chest tightens.
That's different too.
I've been studying this man for weeks. I know his rhythms, his tells—the way his shoulders set when he's irritated versus when he's calculating. Right now, he's neither.
He's watching.
Maybe I'm being paranoid. We're so close to the finish line that every shadow looks like a threat.
I shake off the feeling and climb into the SUV.
The private airfield is twenty minutes out.
Calder's Gulfstream waits on the tarmac, gleaming white against the gray sky. Sixty-five million dollars of engineered luxury, capable of crossing oceans without refueling.
I have two in New York. His doesn't impress me.
I do a sweep of the exterior while the others board, but my attention keeps drifting to the stairs, where Keira is guiding Hale up with one hand on his small back.
She doesn't look at me.
I know she can't.
But I see her fingers flex against his jacket. She traces a heart into the fabric.
She did that for me, knowing I'm watching.
I wonder if she feels it too—this constant pull between us. This awareness that hums beneath my skin like a live wire, even when she's nowhere near me.
I board last, taking my position at the rear of the cabin.
The interior is predictably excessive. Cream leather arranged in clusters, mahogany accents, a full bar with staff. It could easily accommodate a dozen passengers, but today there are only six of us.
Calder. Keira. Hale. The nanny. Marchand. Me.
Calder settles into a seat near the front, laptop already open. Keira and Hale take the couch across from him. My son immediately reaches for the tablet the nanny produces.
The engines hum to life. The plane begins to taxi.
And the next several hours become an exercise in controlled torture.
Why did she have to sit there?
I can't stop looking over at her.
Every time she shifts position, I notice. Every time she laughs at something Hale says, the sound cuts through me. Every time Calder glances in her direction, I have to consciously unclench my jaw.
I've got a fucking headache from the tension coiled at the base of my skull.
I want to cross the cabin and pull her into my lap. Want to feel her weight against me, smell her hair, taste her mouth. Want to take her to the back of this plane and make her scream until she loses her voice.
Instead, I stare at security protocols on my phone for the tenth time and pretend I can't feel her presence like a gravitational force warping everything around it.
Two hours in, the nanny is drifting off. Hale gets comfortable on Keira's lap, showing her something on his tablet. She's got an unguarded smile on her face as she wraps her arms around him, resting her chin on top of his head.
My family.
I never thought I'd have one. Never had much growing up. The concept was foreign, theoretical. Once I became an adult and built what I built, I decided I didn't want a family. Didn't want enemies using them as leverage. Didn't want that vulnerability exposed like a wound anyone could press.
The closest I'd come was Aaron and Dom—brothers forged in chaos.
But looking at Keira and Hale, I finally understand.
Why men start wars over this.
Why they burn cities, salt the earth, destroy everything in their path.
I would do all of it.
I would do worse.
Calder's scratchy voice ruins the moment. "Hale should rest."
I watch Keira's shoulders tense as his attention locks onto her like a targeting system.
"He can sleep on my lap. Can't you, baby?"
Hale nods, rubbing his eyes.
Calder stretches, displeasure flickering across his face. "The nanny will take him to the back. You and I need to discuss tonight's arrangements."
"We were just—"
"Now."
It's like a slap across the face. I see what it does to Keira.
She can't hide her emotions when it comes to Hale—that's always been her tell. She kisses his cheek, then releases him. The nanny jolts awake, disoriented for a moment, then ushers Hale toward the rear cabin.
I watch them go, a sunken feeling spreading through my body. When I look back at Calder, he's patting the seat beside him.
"Come here."
Keira hesitates for a second, then she obeys.
The moment she's seated, Calder drapes an arm across the back of her seat. Like he's marking territory.
My territory.
He's watching her differently now. I noticed it at the house, and it's more pronounced here. He's searching for cracks.
Does he suspect something?
We've been careful. Mostly. Until last night—but he wouldn't have found out about the laundry room this quickly. Lotte was still in the cabinet when we left this morning. I double-checked.
But Calder didn't build his empire by being stupid. If he's sensed a shift in Keira, he's trying to figure out where it came from.
I hate this.
Give me a target to eliminate. Money to move. A problem to solve. An enemy to face head-on.
I can handle that.
But this creeping uncertainty—the not knowing if he knows, if he's playing us the way we're playing him—that's the kind of thing that makes me want to rip open the emergency exit and take my chances with gravity.
Keira is holding up well across the cabin, but I'm back here, seething and thinking about it all being over soon.
So close I can taste it.
Blood and freedom and forever with them, mixed together on my tongue.