Movers are bringing boxes upstairs, fullof clothing and trinkets. On the foyer table are more packages, freshly delivered with snow on top. The new maids we hired and vetted are in theback, being given directions by Collins. Her clinical tone is the only thing I can hear over the rumble and scuff of heavy boots.
“We’re busy, Prince,” Killian snaps, tugging me into him. “Go.”
The venom isn’t shocking. Neither is Hayes’ glare.
“Considering you’re not supposed to be here, I’m choosing to ignore you.” Looking at me, he sighs. “Thank God you’re back.”
“What’s going on?”
“Your sister is what’s going on,” he says, annoyed. “You told them to come and fuck, Ace, they came. She brought everything baby-related. Two of everything, obviously.” He picks up a mobile from the table, the glittery white polar bears reflecting the overhead chandelier. “You can’t seriously need all of this, right? Not for two kids.”
Taking it from him, I inspect it closely. “They’re mobiles. For the crib. It’s a way to develop a baby’s senses. Vision, movement, color.”
Both men look at me, curious. I know how to raise kids—I spent most of my life raising my siblings—that’s probably why I don’t want any. I can’t stomach the thought of bringing any into this terrible world.
“Briar had one. Little morning suns.”
I kept one when he got older. It, along with the ribbon from Sloane’s first recital and the broken pair of glasses Collins wore as a kid. They’re shoved into my nightstand, where I keep all my treasures.
Hayes’ brows furrow, confused. “I never knew that.”
Why would he? Hayes had a room, a chain, and an open door to whoever paid. My heart breaks at the thought, and gently, I touch his arm.
It’s not a lot. It won’t ever be. But if anyone knows the pain of never being cherished as a child and forced to grow up too soon, I do.
Clearing my throat, I put the mobile back. “I assume that means the capo and Sloane are here.”
“Oh, they’re here.” He avoids the babies’ belongings, choosing to put on the grin that hides his pain. “And Lex is on a warpath. I’d prepare now.”
Just what I need.An angry Reaper at my back, and a pissed-off capo somewhere in my home. “What’s his problem?” Doesn’t he understand I’m trying to keep him, my sister, and nephews alive?
He should be thanking me.
Hayes scoffs. “Whatisn’this problem?”
“He’s an expectant dad,” Killian adds, shifting a cigarette from his pocket. He might look relaxed, but the burn of his irritation strikes me like a blade to the sternum. “I’m told the stress is high.”
It doesn’t help that my mess is coming back on him.
When I made the plan with Nico, I swore that it wouldn’t. That his family—my family—would be protected. I made these deals, forced these alliances, with the promise of safety.
All I’ve been able to do is get a man I respected killed, lose runners who have families mourning their deaths, and allow someone close to me who shouldn’t be.
Only a man can lead.
Looking over at my sister, I nod at her. “How is she handling all of this?”
“Shaken up,” he admits. “She’s starting to have panic attacks about possible attempts.”
My chest tightens, and I rub my breastbone.Fuck. “I assume she’s working through them?”
He snorts. “Of course. We both know she’s stronger than she looks. She won’t let this get her down.”
“Obviously.” It’s not a question.
There’s a commotion on the stairs as the movers drop the leg of a table. Why the dining room table had to come too is for anyone to guess. Sloane can’t bear to be without her things.
Hayes starts yelling, throwing his hands at the men. I move to help—this is my house, and they’re scuffing my railings—before a hand curls into my long locks, knotting them into a tight fist.
