Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
He forced the thought down. Buried it like a live wire.
May stepped out of Nixi’s room, chart in hand. Her scrubs were clean now, hair pulled back. Professional. Controlled. Not the woman passed out at the bar two hours ago. “She’s stable,” May said, her voice clinical and direct. “The smoke inhalation isn’t critical, but she’s hypoxic. There’s swelling in her airways. She needs to stay here under oxygen and observation. I’ve set her fractured radius. I’ll sedate her if she starts to panic again.”
Christian exhaled. “How long?”
“At least overnight. Maybe longer. I’ll know more after the next scan and blood gas. We’ve started fluids. She’s going to be weak for a while.”
He looked over her shoulder at Nixi’s still form. “She said Damian’s name.”
“And she spoke Russian. Just who the heck is this woman?” May asked.
Christian slowly shrugged, the tension pulling tight between his shoulders.
May tucked the chart against her chest. “You need to take Amka home.”
His gaze snapped to her.
“She’s not burned. Not concussed. But her cortisol is off the charts and her blood pressure is riding a spike that’s going to crash sooner than later.” May’s voice didn’t waver. “You keep her upright any longer, she’s going to fall on her face. If you want her safe, get her horizontal with a blanket and water.”
“Got it.”
May turned back into Nixi’s room. “Take my rig tonight, because I’m staying here. I’ll call if anything changes.”
The outside door opened and Steve the influencer guy helped Lorrie Warner inside. The widow leaned heavily against him, and she’d gone stark pale.
May hurried toward them. “What’s happened?”
Steven handed the woman over. “We were by the pool tables when something exploded in the kitchen, and a mug fell off one of the shelves above us and hit her on the head. She seemed fine, but then she passed out after we finished helping Dutch lock up.”
May put her arm over the woman’s shoulders. “Come on back to an examination room. Let’s take a look at you, um—”
“Lorrie,” the woman whispered. “I came up here to identify my husband’s body. I just want to take him home.”
Christian stepped back, dug out his phone, and moved toward the far wall of the hallway. He scrolled to Damian’s name to call.
One ring. Two. Voicemail.
He hung up. Tried again. Same result.
Christian didn’t curse. Didn’t pace. Just stared at the wall while heat started crawling back up his spine. If Damian was embedded, the radio silence could be anything—mission blackout, comms interference, or just his usual ghost routine.
Still, Christian hated the silence.
He’d do anything to protect his brothers. But what did Damian need in this situation? Christian had sensed something in Nixi’s voice just before she passed out. Panic. Recognition. The way she’d said Damian’s name, like it wasn’t just a word. Like it was a warning…or a need.
Christian moved back into her room and took a picture with his phone. Not a close-up, just enough. Nixi’s face, half turned on the pillow, the oxygen line stark against her pale skin. He moved around and got a better shot of her entire face. Even so pale, with bruises already forming, she was lovely. Damian’s type? Or Damian’s enemy? Or someone he once worked with?
Christian sent the picture to his brother with a message:
EXPLOSION. NAME IS NIXI. SHE’S ALIVE. SPOKE RUSSIAN AND SAID YOUR NAME RIGHT BEFORE SHE PASSED OUT. YOU KNOW HER?
He hit send.
Still nothing.
Christian scrubbed a hand down his face, then turned to find Amka sitting, arms tight around her ribs like she was holding herself together by force of will alone. He crossed the hall. “You’re done here,” he said softly.
Her chin lifted, defiant.
May’s voice echoed in his head. You want her safe, get her horizontal. “I’m not asking,” he added.
Amka’s lips pressed into a line, but she didn’t argue. Didn’t snap back like she might’ve on another day. She stood without a word, blanket slipping off her shoulders, and walked with him through the exit, quiet and steady until they reached the cold night air.
Then she leaned into him. Not much. Just enough to tell him she needed the contact but wouldn’t admit it out loud. He gave in to his own needs and turned, lifting her against his chest. Right where he wanted her.
He didn’t look back. Nixi was safe for now. Damian would call when he could. But Amka was still breathing beside Christian. And she was his priority.
Everything else could burn.
Tika showed up like a storm.
Amka was halfway through peeling off her smoke-wrecked sweater in Christian’s living room when the front door blew open and the wolf-dog barreled in, all muscle and mud and eyes that didn’t match.
“Oh my,” she muttered, just in time to catch him before he launched all hundred pounds of himself onto the couch.
“Hey,” Christian protested, moving for the animal.