"That's not what this is."
I cross my arms. "Tell me, Declan. When was the last time Callum assigned you a bodyguard? When was the last time he told you that you couldn't go somewhere or do something because it was too dangerous?"
"It's different."
"Why? Because I'm just the sister and not a brother?"
"No." His voice sharpens, cutting through my anger. "Because whoever's behind this knows us, where we go, what we care about. They're watching, Keira. And if they get close enough, I can't protect you."
He sighs and rubs his neck again, and for a second his hands are clumsy, like a boxer who's been hit too many times. It pulls something tight in my chest I can't un-clench.
"This isn't about anything against you, Keira."
I look up at him, and there's something in his eyes I don't see often. Fear. Real, raw fear.
He puts a hand on my shoulder.
"Do it for me, sis," he says. "So I don't have to worry about you while I'm out there. Please."
The words hang between us, heavy and suffocating. I want to argue. I want to tell him he's wrong, that I don't need some stranger shadowing my every move. But the truth is, I know he's not entirely wrong. The feathers have been escalating. The threats are getting closer.
Ugh, I hate that I'm hesitating. I hate that his words make me want to give in, to agree, to let Callum bring in this Romanian bodyguard and wrap me in a layer of protection I don't think I need.
But I also hate the thought of Declan out there, distracted, worrying about me instead of watching his own back.
"Fuck, Declan," I say, looking around.
"Think of it like he's just someone who doesn't care who you are. Someone who's not going to treat you like the princess or the sister or the liability. Just someone who's going to keep you alive."
I let out a laugh. "What do you mean by that?"
Declan's mouth shifts into a half-smile. "Enzo said he doesn't give a fuck who you are. That's exactly what you need. Someone who won't coddle you or treat you like you're fragile. Just do the job, and maybe not put up with your shit."
I shoot him a glare, but there's no heat in it. "I don't have shit to put up with."
"Right." Declan smiles, and for a moment, he looks like the twin I grew up with, the one who used to sneak me extra dessert and teach me how to throw a punch. "And I'm not running an underground boxing club while also pushing drugs up and down the East Coast."
I roll my eyes, but I can't help the small smile that tugs at my lips. "You're an asshole, you know that?"
"Yeah, well, you're a pain in my ass, so we're even."
"Fine," I say, and the word tastes like defeat. "For you. But if this guy so much as tries to tell me what to do, I'm burning his passport and sending him back to Romania in pieces."
Declan grins. "There's the Keira I know," he says and he gently shakes my shoulder.
"Plus, I think this is a good sign."
"A good sign? How the hell is me getting a babysitter a good sign?"
"Not that." He shakes his head. "Where he’s from, the whole Ionescu thing."
I frown, not following. "What about them?"
Declan hesitates. "Well, Lyra's dream was to move to Romania before me."
"Really?" I ask.
He nods. "Yeah. She said the Romanians always treated her nice when she interacted with them. That if she could get out, that's where she'd go. Some small village, far away from all this."
