Chapter Fourteen

The blood was gone.

The carpets scrubbed, the walls wiped clean, the shattered vases replaced—like nothing ever happened.

But I remembered.

The way the gunshots had echoed off the marble floors. The way Reuben’s body dropped. The way Jillian looked at me—really looked at me—like I wasn’t just the girl sold into his world.

Like I was something more.

Even now, days later, I could still feel the weight of the gun in my hand.

I hadn’t fired. I hadn’t needed to.

But I had changed.

And I could see that he saw it too.

Jillian hadn’t left my side since that night. Wherever he went, he made sure someone was stationed outside my room. He didn’t say much—he never did—but the way he hovered near me said everything.

Something between us had shifted.

We weren’t strangers anymore.

Not really.

He knocked once before opening my door. He always did that now, even though it was his house.

“You’re up early,” he said.

I was sitting by the window in my robe, a cup of untouched tea in my hand.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

He walked over and took the cup from me, setting it down beside the windowsill.

“Something on your mind?”

I turned my head slowly toward him. “We killed people. Here. In this house.”

His jaw clenched. “We defended our own.”

“That’s what this is now?” I asked quietly. “My home?”

“Isn’t it?”

I didn’t answer right away. “It doesn’t feel like it. Not yet.”

He stepped closer. “And what would it take to make it feel like home?”

I let the silence sit between us for a second, then looked up into his eyes.

“You.”

That made something flicker behind his gaze. His hand reached for mine instinctively, his fingers rough and warm.

He looked like he wanted to say something.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he pulled me into him, his lips brushing against my temple as he held me tight.

“I’ll protect you,” he whispered. “Always.”

“You already are.”

He rested his chin on my head. “Then why do you still look scared?”

I pulled back and met his gaze. “Because Alyssa’s still out there.”

And we both knew she didn’t disappear that night because she was scared.

She vanished because she had a plan.

Later that day, I followed Jillian downstairs to the east wing—somewhere I hadn’t been yet.

The hallways were darker on this side, more secure, lined with thick steel doors and a set of security cameras.

“This is the war room,” Jillian said, placing his hand on the scanner by the last door.

The lock clicked.

Inside, a long table filled the center of the room. Maps of the city, coded files, weapons cases—it looked like something out of a movie.

Joseph Colbert sat at the head of the table, flanked by two men I hadn’t met yet.

They all turned when I walked in.

Joseph raised a brow. “She comes with you now?”

Jillian’s voice was firm. “She needs to be aware of what’s happening.”

Joseph looked at me carefully. “She froze the first time. What if she freezes again?”

“I won’t,” I said. “I’m not the same girl I was that night.”

The older man looked amused. “Spoken like someone who doesn’t know the weight of war yet.”

Jillian stepped beside me. “She’s not just some pawn. She’s my wife.”

Joseph didn’t argue.

But he didn’t agree either.

“We’ve tracked Alyssa to an estate outside the city,” one of the men said, pointing to a red mark on the map. “She’s lying low, but she’s not hiding.”

“She wants us to come to her,” Joseph muttered.

“She wants a rematch,” Jillian corrected. “And she won’t stop until one of us is dead.”

The air in the room shifted.

I felt it. That chill.

The cold truth.

This wasn’t over.

And it wouldn’t be until someone bled for it.

After the meeting, Jillian didn’t go back to his office.

He took my hand and led me outside into the garden, a place I hadn’t been since arriving. The air smelled like roses and citrus, a strange contrast to the tension clawing at my chest.

“Do you ever get tired of all this?” I asked as we walked.

He looked up at the trees, his thumb absently tracing the inside of my wrist. “All what?”

“The violence. The weight of it.”

He exhaled slowly. “I don’t think about it anymore. It’s all I’ve ever known.”

I stopped and turned to him. “You didn’t choose this life?”

He stared at me for a long moment. “No. But I chose to survive in it.”

I reached up and brushed my fingers across his cheek. He leaned into the touch.

“Maybe you don’t have to just survive anymore.”

He laughed softly. “And what would that even look like?”

I smiled. “A little less blood. A little more peace.”

He pulled me to him, wrapping his arms around my waist.

His mouth hovered above mine. “With you, maybe that’s possible.”

And when he kissed me, it was softer than before.

Not urgent.

Not lustful.

But like a promise.

A vow.

That night, I couldn’t sleep again.

Too much noise in my head.

So I slipped out of bed quietly and made my way to the hallway.

I didn’t expect to find anyone else awake.

But as I neared the end of the hall, I saw him—Jillian—shirtless, leaning over the balcony with a lit cigar in hand.

The moonlight made his skin glow pale gold. His back muscles flexed as he turned, hearing me approach.

“You should be resting,” he said, voice low.

“So should you.”

He looked down at the city lights. “Can’t.”

I stepped closer. “Are you scared?”

He looked surprised at the question. “No.”

“Liar.”

He took a drag from the cigar, then looked at me with those sharp, stormy eyes.

“Fine. I’m scared of losing everything I never thought I’d want.”

I moved beside him, the cool stone of the balcony pressing into my arms. “Like what?”

His eyes dropped to my lips.

“You.”

And in that moment, all the fear I carried melted away.

Because despite everything—the lies, the danger, the blood—I had him.

Maybe not forever.

Maybe not even completely.

But I had this.

Us.

Now.

The next morning, everything changed.

The guards were doubled. Joseph was making phone calls nonstop. And I could hear Jillian shouting behind closed doors.

I didn’t need anyone to tell me what had happened.

Alyssa had made her move.

She’d bombed one of the Colbert safe houses across town.

Six men were dead.

And the war had officially begun.

I walked into Jillian’s office just as he threw a glass against the wall.

It shattered loudly, the shards spraying across the floor.

He turned toward me, rage in every inch of him.

“She killed them,” he hissed. “And she smiled while doing it.”

“What do we do?”

“We retaliate.”

His voice was hard.

Unforgiving.

But his eyes softened when he looked at me.

“I need you to stay inside, Christy. No arguments this time.”

“You know I’m not just going to sit—”

“I know,” he snapped. Then paused. Ran a hand through his hair. “But I need to know you’re safe. Please.”

That “please” broke me.

“I’ll stay inside. For you.”

He nodded once and pulled me into his arms.

And I knew… whatever came next, it would be brutal.

But I wasn’t just the girl they sold into a life of danger anymore.

I was a Colbert now.

And Alyssa had made a mistake.

She started something she couldn’t finish.