Chapter 44
Ronan
Location: Coastal North Carolina — Private Residence
Time: Night
Idon’t raise my voice.
I don’t have to.
The second Lena walks through the door, and I see the dried blood flecked in her hair—from glass that almost took her eye—I feel something inside me go ice-cold and lethal.
I shut the door behind her and lock it.
She watches me carefully. “Ronan—”
“You’re done going out,” I say evenly.
Her jaw tightens instantly. “Excuse me?”
I cross the room, cupping her face gently, thumbs brushing her cheeks like I need to reassure myself she’s whole. Breathing. Here.
“He tested you,” I say. “That wasn’t an accident. That was a measuring strike.”
“I know that,” she fires back. “Which is why I—”
“No.” I cut her off, voice low but absolute. “You are not walking into public spaces right now. You are not predictable. You are not exposed.”
She pulls back just enough to meet my eyes. “You don’t get to cage me.”
The word hits hard.
I take a breath, forcing control.
“I’m not caging you,” I say. “I’m keeping you alive. I don’t want to go through losing you again. I love you, and that bastard isn’t getting anywhere near you.”
“You don’t get to decide that for me.”
I step back, hands fisting at my sides. This is harder than any firefight.
“Malenkov doesn’t miss,” I say. “He escalates. Today was glass. Tomorrow it’s a car. A source. A bystander.”
Her voice drops, dangerous and calm. “And the day after that, he thinks I’ll disappear.”
“Yes,” I say. “And he’s wrong.”
She crosses her arms. “Then why are you grounding me like a child?”
Because I’ve already buried people I loved.
Because I will not bury you.
Because I don’t know how to say that without sounding like I’m breaking.
“You are my line,” I say quietly. “And he crossed it.”
Her breath stutters.
“I will not lose you,” I continue. “Not while I still have breath in my body.”
Silence stretches between us, thick with everything unsaid.
Then Lena exhales slowly.
“Okay,” she says.
The ease of it makes me suspicious. “Okay?”
“Yes,” she says. “I won’t go out.”
Relief flickers—brief, dangerous.
“But,” she adds calmly, “I’m not stopping.”
I stare at her. “Stopping what?”
“Working,” she says. “Digging and connecting dots. You want me safe? Then let me do what I do best—from here.”
She steps closer, placing her hand over my chest, right above my heart.
“You don’t protect me by silencing me,” she says softly. “You protect me by letting me help you end this.”
I search her face—this woman who walked through broken glass without screaming, who stared down men like Malenkov with nothing but truth and grit. Who was held prisoner for three years, when I thought I had lost her. The only woman I will ever love.
I don’t like it.
But I trust her.
“Rules,” I say finally.
She lifts a brow. “Compromise?”
“Yes,” I answer. “Delta Five security rotation. No solo movement. You don’t publish anything without clearance.”
She considers it. Then nods. “Agreed.”
“And,” I add, stepping closer, voice dropping, “you don’t lie to me about what you find.”
Her fingers tighten against my shirt. “Never have.”
I pull her into my arms, holding her tightly now, no restraint left. She presses into me just as hard.
For a moment, the world narrows to heartbeat and breath.
Then she murmurs against my chest, “You realize he wanted this.”
“What,” I ask.
“To make you afraid.”
I tilt my head down, lips brushing her hair. “He failed.”
She smiles faintly. “Good.”
Because if Malenkov thought today would make me retreat…
He just declared war.
And this time?
I’m not fighting it alone.