"Nothing that ends in 'Jr.' I don't want the baby saddled with expectations because of my name."
"Fair enough. What about family names?"
"My mother's name was Isabella.” He pauses. "For a girl, maybe. If you like them."
"It’s beautiful. What if it's a boy?"
"I don't know. Something strong. Classic." He runs his hand over my hair. "What about you? Any family names you want to honor?"
"My mother was Catherine. We could use that, or a variation." I think about it. "Katherine. Kate. Cate."
"I like Katherine."
"Me too."
We lie there in the dark, talking about names and the future and all the small details that make this real. Not just a crisis we're managing, but a life we're building.
And somewhere in the conversation, between discussing nursery colors and parenting philosophies, I realize the truth.
I'm in love with him.
Not just attracted. Not just connected by circumstance. Actually, completely in love.
The realization should terrify me. Should send me running. Because loving someone in this world, in this life, is dangerous. It gives your enemies a target. It makes you vulnerable.
But I can't run. Don't want to run.
I love him. With all his flaws and violence and overprotective tendencies. I love the man who kneels at my feet and rests his head on my stomach. Who promises to take me to see the Northern Lights. Who values my mind as much as my body.
I love him.
But I don't say it. Not tonight. Not when we're both so exhausted and raw.
Instead, I hold him close and let him fall asleep in my arms, his breathing evening out as the tension finally leaves his body.
And I make a promise to myself. When this is over, when the threats are gone and we're safe, I'll tell him.
I'll tell him everything.
But for now, this is enough.
27
AXEL
Someone in my house is a rat.
The thought has been sitting in my skull since Viktor confirmed it this morning, and I can't shake it. Can't think around it. Can't fucking do anything except sit at this conference table, stare at Senator Harold Vance's oily smile, and try not to put my fist through his face while the betrayal eats me alive from the inside.
"The Northeastern district is mine," Vance is saying, spreading his hands like he's conducting a symphony. "Twenty-two years in office. My people love me. And with the right financial backing for this campaign, I can guarantee your organization favorable treatment for—"
"For how long?" I ask.
He blinks. "Excuse me?"
"How long does favorable treatment last? A year? Two? Until someone offers you a better deal?" I lean back with a shit-eating grin. "Put a number on it, Senator. I like specifics."
He laughs. "That's not really how political relationships work, Axel—"
