“How can you be so sure?” I ask.
“We’ve been watching for them,” Cyrus says, moving closer. “And now they’re watching you.”
My stomach lurches as reality sinks in. The violation cuts deep—reminding me of basements with cameras, of being preyed on when I thought I was safe.
“What do they want?” I ask.
“Leverage,” Cyrus says grimly. “You’re our weakness, and they know it.”
“How long have they—” I start, but my voice catches.
“We suspected they might come for you,” Ace admits, his jaw tight. “Felix has been monitoring the studio, but they must have identified his surveillance.”
I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly cold despite the warmth of the studio.
The twins move simultaneously, positioning themselves on either side of me. A perfect, practiced formation—not touching me, but close enough that I feel the heat radiating from their bodies. A human shield.
“We’re not letting you out of our sight,” Ace says, his voice low and dangerous.
Cyrus nods, eyes scanning the windows. “We’ll handle this.”
I look between them, these deadly men who kill and who now stand as my protectors. The irony isn’t lost on me—that the men who once hunted me now shield me from hunters.
“I won’t be trapped,” I tell them, forcing strength into my voice. “I won’t live in fear again.”
Their bodies shift infinitesimally closer to mine, a synchronized movement so subtle I would’ve missed it if I hadn’t spent so much time with them. Even in crisis, they move as one entity, different halves of the same lethal whole.
“You won’t have to,” Cyrus promises, his hand hovering near the small of my back without quite touching.
“Because we’re going to find them,” Ace finishes, his eyes meeting his brother’s over my head. “Anyone who comes near you,” Ace says, his voice dropping to that deadly calm I’ve come to recognize, “won’t live to regret it.”
Cyrus nods, his eyes darkening. “We’ll tear apart anyone who even thinks of using you against us. Everyone who’s been watching you. Everyone who reports back about your movements.” His fingers brush against my hip. “They’re already dead. They just don’t know it yet.”
A forbidden heat blooms low in my belly at their words. There’s something darkly thrilling about being the center of such lethal devotion—knowing these men would kill without hesitation to keep me safe.
“We protect what’s ours,” Ace adds, his gaze intense on my face. “Always.”
I reach for Cyrus first, pulling him down until our lips meet. His kiss is hungry, possessive, his hands curving around my waist to draw me closer. When we break apart, I turn to Ace, whose mouth captures mine with equal intensity, his palm warm against my cheek.
They take turns claiming my mouth, each kiss bleeding into the next until I can barely tell where one ends and the other begins. I taste their shared determination, their promise of violence transformed into this physical connection.
“It feels good, doesn’t it?” Cyrus murmurs against my neck. “To fight back. To eliminate threats. To protect what matters.”
I nod, no longer ashamed of the dark symmetry we’ve discovered together. “Yes.”
“We understand,” Ace says, his thumb tracing my bottom lip. “After Idaho... we know you understand too.”
The memory of Henderson’s basement flashes between us—how natural it felt to reclaim my power through his pain. How right it felt to protect potential future victims by eliminating him.
Cyrus’s hand slides down my arm. “We should get back to the penthouse. We’ve prepared dinner for you—had it ready before your text came through.”
“Dinner?” I ask.
“We have plans for tonight,” Ace says. “Important ones.”
Dinner. They had prepared dinner for me. Something about the way Ace saysimportant plansmakes my curiosity spike. These men—assassins who kill without hesitation, who had helped me exact my revenge—had been cooking while I was at rehearsal.
“What kind of plans?” I ask, gathering my dance bag and slipping on my jacket.
