Chapter 20

Tethered.

The water hit my back like a slap, scorching at first, but I didn’t flinch. I just stood there, palms braced against the tiled wall, watching the steam swirl around me like smoke from a fire I couldn’t put out. My thoughts drifted back to her, Sage, Specter, Ghost. My girl. God, I hated how natural that sounded in my head.

She had slipped behind my walls like it was nothing, walked through my defenses, both the literal and the emotional, with that damn calm of hers. Unbothered. Unapologetic Unreachable. But somehow, she saw me. Not just the Irish mafia boss with blood on his hands and a reputation that preceded him. She saw me, and she hadn’t looked away. That scared the shit out of me more than any mark or ambush ever could. I let the heat soak into my skin, hoping it would burn the tension out of my muscles. But it didn’t. It never really did. So, after scrubbing off the grime and whatever weight I could shake, 1 toweled eff, dragged on some sweats, and padded barefoot into the kitchen. The house was still too quiet, no gunfire, no arguments, no urgent calls. Just the hum of appliances and the low murmur of Nico cursing softly at his screen in the other room. Liam was likely doing inventory again, checking on the boys, maybe reworking our patrol strategy. I should have been helping. I wasn’t. Instead, I was standing at my stove, heating oil in a pan like it mattered. I cracked eggs, diced vegetables, threw together whatever was left in the fridge that didn’t look like a war crime. The motions were muscle memory, something human, something normal. But my head wasn’t in it. My mind kept flickering back to the way she’d said my name. Just once. Like it meant something

“Are you safe?”

Not where are you or what’s next. Just are you safe. She didn’t want thanks. Didn’t want praise. Hell, she didn’t even care about credit. She just wanted to know I was breathing. I reached for a plate and caught my reflection in the dark oven glass, eyes tired, jaw tight, hair still damp. I didn’t recognize that version of myself. Not really. That man looked… tethered. Like he’d found something he didn’t want to lose. I plated the food, tossed some onto an extra plate because I knew Liam and Nico would wander in eventually. But for a minute, I just stood there, leaning on the counter, eating quietly. Still shirtless. Still raw. She could get past all of this security, no problem. I knew that now. But the way she said it, if I can, someone else can, it wasn’t cocky. It was a warning. A gift, even. She was protecting me in her own twisted, distant way. And it made me want to tear the world apart to protect her right back. Even if she wouldn’t let me. I’d just sat down at the kitchen table with my plate when I heard footsteps behind me. Liam came in first, followed by Nico, both looking like they’d been up for three days straight, which, in fairness, we probably had.

Liam’s eyes landed on the food. “You cooked?” he said, like I’d performed an exorcism in the kitchen.

“Relax,” I muttered, nudging the extra plate toward him. “It’s not poisoned. Unless you count the week-old spinach.”