Chapter 49
FORTY-NINE
TRISTAN
We land at Teterboro just after two, and I feel the shift before the wheels stop rolling.
Three cars wait on the tarmac instead of two. Black, tinted, and identical except for the plates. But that's not what catches my attention.
It's the additional security detail standing beside them. Six men in matching suits who don't belong to Calder's usual roster.
And then there's the seventh guy.
Tall and built like a brick house. Dark curly hair, sharp jaw, dual-colored eyes. The face that's been plastered on sports magazines and billboard before. He's wearing the same black suit as the others, an earpiece curled around his left ear.
Dominik Lewis is standing on a private tarmac in New Jersey, pretending to be a hired gun.
The captain of the New York Slashers. My brother in everything but blood.
Which means Aaron's team is already in position.
The plan is moving forward.
Some of the tension in my chest loosens.
Calder's head of security is already directing traffic, gesturing the nanny and Hale toward the third vehicle. Keira moves to follow them, but Calder's hand shoots out and he turns her back, saying something low in her ear.
Her face goes pale.
I'm crossing the tarmac before I can stop myself.
"—the Langham on Fifth," the security head is saying into his phone. "The boy stays there until tomorrow's breakfast gathering."
The Langham.
That's not the plan. Hale was supposed to be at the same hotel as Keira, extracted from his room during the gala. This throws a wrench into Phase One.
Fuck.
"Mr. Calder's orders," the man adds, catching me listening. "Changed this morning."
"Why?"
He looks at me like I've grown a second head. "Excuse me?"
"The change. Why wasn't Mr. Calder's personal detail informed?"
"I don't know and I don't care." He steps closer, dropping his voice. "And neither should you."
"I don't like when plans involving my watch get changed without notice."
He leans in, full of coffee breath. "Hey, asshole, we have the same boss. You want to question his decisions, take it up with him. Otherwise, do your fucking job."
Then he walks off, my eyes boring into his back. I stand there with my fists clenched.
He just made the list.
I feel someone at my shoulder.
"Easy." Dom's voice is so quiet. "I've got the kid."
I don't look at him. Don't acknowledge him beyond a slight shift in my stance.
"The hotel change—"
"Already handled. Zoe's en route to the Langham. Cat's rerouting Phase One extraction. We'll have eyes on him within the hour."
The relief is almost dizzying.
Dom is going to be in the car with Hale. My son will have a six-foot-five hockey player whose tactical training consists entirely of body-checking people into plexiglass and occasionally chasing his wife through the woods for fun.
Not ideal, but I'll take it.
"The extra security?" I ask, still not looking at him.
"Mortelle sent them as a courtesy. Calder accepted because turning them down would've looked suspicious."
Which means half the security on this tarmac actually works for us.
Aaron, you brilliant little shit.
"Anything else I should know?"
"Yeah." Dom takes a deep breath. "Calder's been making calls all morning. Encrypted line. Cat's trying to crack it, but whoever he's talking to has insane protection on their comms."
The unease flares back to life.
"You think he knows?"
"I think he's paranoid. Whether that paranoia is pointed in our direction…" Dom trails off. "Don't worry, we've got this."
I quickly glance over at him. "It's good to see you, man."
"We're happy you're home. I'll see you later."
Then he's moving away, joining the detail around the third car, where the nanny is buckling a crying Hale into his seat.
Keira has noticed. She's pulling against Calder's grip, her eyes locked on the car that's about to take our son away.
"Where are they taking him?"
"Sister hotel. He's joining us for breakfast tomorrow. Better for him to be away from the chaos tonight. Maria will be with him," Calder says dismissively.
"But you said he'd be with us—"
"Plans change, wife." His fingers dig into her elbow. "He'll be fine. Don't make a scene."
Through the car window, Hale presses his small hand to the glass.
His face crumples. Tears stream down his cheeks as he calls for his mother.
Keira's composure cracks. Tears slide down her face even as she forces a smile, waving at him through the glass, trying to comfort him when she's the one falling apart.
Dom catches my eye through the window. A single nod before he drives away.
I watch the car merge into airport traffic and disappear, carrying my son toward a hotel I didn't choose, protected by a man I'd trust with my life.
"Henri."
For a second, I don't register that Calder's speaking to me.
He's standing by the second car, one hand on the open door, watching me with an expression I can't read.
"You're driving."
Not a request.
"Monsieur?"
"Keira and I will ride in back. I want to discuss security arrangements for this evening. Easier to do it in private."
This is a test.
He's sensed something or seen something. Now he's putting me in a box to see how I'll react.
"Of course, monsieur."
I slide into the driver's seat. Calder nudges Keira into the back. The door closes with a heavy thunk, sealing the three of us inside.
Through the rearview mirror, I watch him settle beside her.
"Take the tunnel," Calder instructs. "I want to avoid bridge traffic."
"Yes, monsieur."
We merge onto the highway, Manhattan rising in the distance.
It's good to be back home.
This is where I belong. Where I'm strongest.
For the first few minutes, Calder is silent—typing on his phone, making occasional sounds of acknowledgment at whatever he's reading. Keira sits rigid beside him, hands folded in her lap, staring out the window.
Then his hand moves.
His fingers slide from the back of the seat to her shoulder, settling on her thigh just above her knee.
She doesn't react whatsoever. She's mastered the art of disappearing inside herself.
But I pick up on the slight tremor in her clasped hands.
His fingers dig into her thigh. "You're very quiet, darling. Everything alright?"
"Just tired from the flight and missing Hale."
"Mmm." His hand moves higher. "You should rest before tonight. I want you at your best."
My grip on the steering wheel tightens.
Don't react. He's watching you through the mirror. He's waiting for you to slip.
"I'll make sure to rest," Keira replies quietly.
"Good girl."
He didn't just fucking say that to her.
Those are my words.
Mine.
I whisper them against her skin when she falls apart in my arms. I breathe them into her ear when she surrenders to me. They're praise and promise and possession—and hearing them come out of his mouth is fucking obscene.
I'm going to spend quality time choking those words back out of him when I finally get the chance.
I force my eyes to the road. Force my breathing to stay even. Force my body to remain loose and uninterested.
Keira. Hale. Endgame.
That's all that matters. There's no room for slips right now, no matter how much I want to commit murder.
The tunnel passes in a blur of yellow lights and dirty tile. When we emerge, the city rises around us like a canyon of glass and steel.
"The Carlyle," Calder says flatly. "East 76th Street."
I already know. He knows I know.
Another tell. He's stopped trusting me.
"Of course, monsieur."
I navigate through traffic, hyperaware of every sound from the back seat—his murmured comments, her monosyllabic responses, the soft rustle of fabric that tells me his hands are still wandering over territory that belongs to me.
When we finally pull up to the hotel entrance, it takes everything I have to keep my voice steady.
"We're here, monsieur."
Calder makes a sound of acknowledgment. In the mirror, I watch him lean close to Keira, lips brushing her ear. She nods mechanically, reaching for the handle.
A doorman opens it before she can, and she slips out. Then Calder is beside her, hand on the small of her back, guiding her toward the entrance like the devoted husband he's never been.
I sit in the car and watch them disappear through the revolving doors.
My hands shake from the restraint it takes to stay in this seat instead of following them inside and painting the marble lobby with his blood.
Less than six hours.
I pull into the underground garage. Find a dark corner where no cameras reach. My phone is in my hand before the engine dies.
Phase One adjusted. Slasher has the package. Ready for Phase Two.
Cat's response comes in thirty seconds.
Copy. All teams in position.
I pocket the phone and stare at the concrete wall.
Tonight we end this.
No matter how many pieces need to fall into place, what adjustments need to be made…I'm getting them out.
I hate that she's up there in a hotel room with him right now.
Just a few more hours.
Tonight, Calder meets the version of me I've kept leashed for weeks.
And he's going to learn exactly what it costs to take something from a man who will burn down the world to get it back.