Chapter 3 - Then Miller.
Both men moved back half a step.
“Are you questioning my stomach?”
“No, boss.”
Hayes held his ground.
“Just laying out the optics.”
“The optics.”
Roman rubbed both hands across his face.
“Jason is a dead man.”
He started issuing orders.
“Put a bounty on him.”
Roman’s voice became cold.
“$50,000 if someone brings him to me breathing. $100,000 if I get his head in a box. I don’t care.”
He pointed toward the door.
“But the girl has nothing to do with this.”
“She’s his daughter,” Miller said.
“She’s a maid.”
Roman’s restraint broke.
“She scrubs floors. She makes coffee.”
He stepped toward Miller.
“She told me 2 weeks ago her father would sell her out.”
His eyes were hard.
“She was right.”
Roman continued.
“Punishing someone who already knew she’d been abandoned proves nothing except that I’m a sadist.”
He pointed directly at Miller.
“You do not look at her.”
Miller swallowed.
“You do not speak to her.”
Roman’s tone became almost quiet.
“If I learn either of you even breathed heavily in her direction to prove a point, I won’t simply kill you.”
A pause.
“I will dismantle you.”
He stared at them.
“Do you understand?”
“Understood.”
“Get out.”
Roman turned away.
“Find Jason. Find the Vulov shipment.”
His anger sharpened every word.
“Tear the east side apart if you have to.”
Neither man argued.
Hayes and Miller left.
The front door closed behind them.
Roman stood alone in the foyer.
His shoulders dropped slightly.
He exhaled.
Then looked upward.
Morgana was standing at the top of the glass staircase.
Her hands gripped the railing until her knuckles were white.
She wore only an oversized shirt.
She was shaking.
Roman did not seem surprised she had heard everything.
“Go back to bed.”
Morgana descended instead.
Each step sounded unnaturally loud.
She stopped several feet from him.
“Why?”
Her voice cracked.
“Hayes was right.”
Roman watched her.
“It makes you look weak.”
She could barely speak now.
“Why didn’t you let them take me?”
Roman looked down at her.
He saw terror.
Confusion.
Disbelief.
He moved closer, but stopped before entering her space.
“Because I bought your debt.”
His voice had softened.
“Jason failed his end of the contract.”
Roman held her gaze.
“But I honor mine.”
Morgana remained still.
“You work here.”
Roman continued.
“You’re my responsibility.”
His eyes hardened with absolute conviction.
“And I protect what’s mine.”
Roman lifted 1 hand.
It hovered near her face for a second, giving her time to recoil.
She did not.
He moved a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
His fingers were warm.
“No one is going to hurt you in this house, Morgana.”
His dark eyes held hers.
“I suggest you start believing that.”
He lowered his hand.
Turned away.
Went to his office.
Morgana remained in the foyer.
The man she had been sold to had become the only person in the world standing between her and death.
February came with ice.
Frost covered the estate’s windows, blurring the city lights into pale smears.
Inside, climate controls maintained a steady 70 degrees.
The atmosphere still felt cold.
War with the Vulovs had begun.
It was not a spectacular conflict fought openly in the streets.
It existed in missing shipments.
Burned warehouses.
Men who failed to return home.
Morgana did not witness most of the violence.
She felt its effects.
Security at the estate tripled.
Armed men in winter coats patrolled the property 24 hours a day.
The house became an operational headquarters.
Lieutenants came and went at every hour.
Gray slush collected beneath their boots.
Morgana did not rush to clean it.
Something had changed after Roman’s refusal to let Miller harm her.
The obsessive urge to prove usefulness had weakened.
She no longer scrubbed because she thought dust might get her killed.
For the first time, she was simply living there.
Roman, however, seemed barely alive.
He stopped sleeping.
He stayed behind the heavy doors of his office for hours.
When he came out, it was usually to give Hayes a short order before disappearing again.
Dark circles settled permanently beneath his eyes.
Near 2:00 a.m. on a Tuesday, Morgana crossed a boundary neither of them had formally discussed.
She was reading a paperback in the kitchen.
Outside, guards endured the cold.
Roman’s office door opened.
His footsteps came slowly toward her.
He entered the kitchen.
Looked toward the espresso machine.
Then toward the empty drip coffee carafe.
Finally, he placed his forehead against the stainless-steel refrigerator.
He stood there silently.
The posture made him look less like a crime boss than a man trying not to collapse.
Morgana put down the book.
She did not ask whether he was all right.
The question would have been absurd.
She walked to the refrigerator instead.
Roman lifted his head as she opened it.
Morgana removed eggs and cheddar.
“What are you doing?”
“You’re out of coffee.”
She cracked 3 eggs into a bowl.
“And caffeine isn’t fixing whatever is happening to your nervous system.”
She began whisking.
“You need protein.”
Morgana looked at him.
“Sit.”
Roman stared.
Authority flickered across his face.
For a moment, he seemed prepared to remind her who he was.
Exhaustion won.
He sat on the stool.
Morgana cooked.
Butter hit the hot pan.
Eggs followed.
The ordinary domestic sounds seemed almost alien inside the war surrounding them.
She placed scrambled eggs and toast in front of Roman.
Added a glass of water.
“Eat.”
Roman picked up the fork.
He took 1 bite.
His eyes closed briefly.
It was his first hot meal in 3 days.
“The Vulovs hit the northern transit hub.”
His voice sounded worn.
Morgana stopped near the sink.
“They burned 3 trucks.”
Roman kept his eyes lowered.
“The drivers didn’t get out.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
Roman opened his eyes.
“They knew the risks. I pay them for the risks.”
He looked down at the plate.
“Your father gave the Vulovs security schedules for all my hubs.”
Morgana felt heat rise beneath her skin.
Shame.
“He gave them the blueprint for dismantling me.”
“Have you found him?”
“No.”
Roman drank water.
“He’s a rat.”
His mouth tightened.
“Rats know how to hide inside walls.”
Then he looked at her.
“Hayes thinks I should have killed you.”
Morgana remained silent.
“He thinks keeping you here makes you a liability. A distraction.”
“Is he right?”
“Probably.”
Roman’s hardness returned slightly.
“But I don’t ask Hayes how to run my house.”
He finished eating.
The tremor in his hands disappeared.
Morgana saw the meal returning some stability to him.
Roman pushed away the empty plate.
He stood.
“Thank you.”
There was nothing automatic about it.
He meant it.
“Go to sleep, Roman.”
He paused at the kitchen entrance.
“Tomorrow, Hayes gives you a phone.”
Morgana frowned.
“It will have only 3 numbers. Mine. Hayes’s. The security gate.”
His expression was serious.
“Keep it charged.”
“Why?”
“Because the walls are getting thin.”
Then Roman added, “And I don’t like liabilities.”
He left.
Morgana looked at the empty plate.
He called her a liability.
Then gave her a direct line to safety.
Roman was becoming a contradiction she could understand only by living inside it.
He was bleeding.
And Morgana, despite everything, wanted to help close the wound.
The new phone vibrated at 4:15 p.m. Thursday.
Morgana was dusting high shelves in the library.
She looked at the display.
Hayes.
“Hello?”
“Get towels.”
His voice came through over horns, tires, and movement.
“Clean towels. Bottled water.”
He spoke rapidly.
“Go to the kitchen. Clear the island. Everything off it.”
“Hayes, what happened?”
“Just do it, Morgana.”
A pause.
“3 minutes.”
The call ended.
Morgana dropped the duster.
She ran.
She gathered clean white towels from the linen closet.
Reached the kitchen.
Swept fruit, cups, and decorative ceramics from the island.
Objects broke across the floor.
Morgana ignored them.
She cleared the granite completely.
The front doors opened violently.
“Keep pressure on it!”
Hayes appeared.
Roman hung against him.
1 arm lay across Hayes’s shoulders.
Roman’s head had dropped forward.
His hair was wet with sweat.
Most of the left side of his white shirt had turned dark red.
Blood fell onto the floor.
For 1 moment, Morgana froze.
Then Jason’s voice came from memory.
You’re useless, Morgana. You just stand there looking stupid.
She shoved the memory away.
“Here!”
Morgana pointed toward the island.
“Put him here.”
Hayes lifted Roman and laid him on the stone.
Roman groaned.
His eyes were open.
Barely focused.
Hayes took a wadded jacket from the wound.
“Hold this.”
He grabbed Morgana’s hand.
Pressed it against Roman’s side.
“Harder.”
Morgana leaned her weight into the injury.
Blood immediately soaked through.
Hot.
Sticky.
The metallic smell overwhelmed everything else.
“What happened?”
“Ambush.”
Hayes pulled out a burner phone.
“Meeting at the docks. Supposed to be a sit-down with the union representative.”
He dialed.
“Vulov shooters were hiding in the containers.”
Hayes looked toward Roman.
“Boss took 1 through the ribs.”
He spoke into the phone.
“Gallagher is 5 minutes out.”
Roman coughed.
Blood appeared at the corner of his mouth.
Morgana pressed harder.
“Roman.”
His head moved toward her.
“Roman, look at me.”
His eyes found her slowly.
“Morgana.”
“I’m here.”
She kept pressure on the wound.
“Breathe. Keep breathing.”
Hayes moved around the kitchen shouting into radios.
The estate went into lockdown.
Guards moved toward the gates.
Roman raised his right hand.
His fingers, coated with blood, found Morgana’s wrist.
“Hayes.”
The word came wet and weak.
Hayes dropped the radio and returned.
“I’m here, boss.”
“Dark’s coming.”
Roman struggled for breath.
“Get her out.”
His hand tightened around Morgana’s wrist.
“Get her out of the house.”
He stared directly at her.
“Armored sedan. Safe house in the Berkshires.”
Hayes hesitated.
“We’re locked down. Moving her now is dangerous.”
“Do it.”
Pain shook Roman’s body.
“They know she’s here.”
He looked at Morgana.
“They know Jason’s daughter works here.”
Roman’s breathing remained shallow.
“If they breach the gates, they won’t just kill you.”
His grip tightened.
“They’ll use you.”
He looked at Hayes.
“Take her.”
Even while bleeding onto the island, Roman was still trying to keep the promise he made.
Morgana looked at the blood covering her hands.
Jason would have pushed her toward danger to save himself.
Jason sold her over poker debts.
Roman had been shot, and his first instinct was to get her out.
“No.”
Hayes stopped.
Roman’s jaw tightened.
“Morgana, don’t be stupid. Get in the car.”
“No.”
She leaned toward him without reducing pressure.
“I’m not running.”
Roman’s eyes sharpened.
“I’m not Jason.”
Morgana held his gaze.
“I don’t abandon people when the bill comes due.”
Roman stared at her.
Anger disappeared.
Something else replaced it.
Recognition.
For the first time, he looked at her not as collateral.
Not as a maid.
Not as a debt.
As someone whose will was equal to his own.
The kitchen doors opened.
Dr. Gallagher rushed inside carrying a large black trauma bag.
2 armed men came behind him.
“Move.”
He pushed Hayes aside.
Then looked at Morgana.
“Keep the pressure exactly where it is.”
Morgana nodded.
“Do not move your hands until I tell you.”
For the next 45 minutes, Roman’s kitchen became an operating room.
Morgana held pressure.
Passed instruments when Gallagher asked.
Forceps.
Gauze.
Whatever he needed.
Gallagher removed a 9 mm bullet lodged near Roman’s rib cage.
Roman remained conscious.
Hayes gave him a leather belt to bite against.
Pain distorted his face.
His eyes stayed on Morgana.
May you like
She never looked away.
She anchored him to the room.
