Luka nods once. “Visible security?”
“No.”
Maggie notices everything. If armed men surround her workplace, she’ll ask questions I’m not prepared to answer.
“Discreet coverage only,” I continue. “Use rotating vehicles. No patterns.”
“And Maggie?” Sasha asks.
I stare at the photograph for another second before sliding it back into the folder.
“No one approaches her unless I give the order personally.”
Sasha nods. Luka remains silent. He knows me well enough to understand what this means. The line has moved, and Maggie is no longer outside my world, whether I intended that or not.
“One more thing,” I add.
Both of them look back at me immediately.
“No mistakes around the shelter.” My voice drops lower and colder. “Whoever took those photographs was comfortable getting close.”
Luka nods once. “We’ll handle it.”
The office empties. I remain alone beside the windows overlooking the river. My phone rests near my hand. Maggie’s last message glows faintly on the screen.
Dangerous.
She has no idea. That’s exactly the problem.
By six-thirty, the house smells like garlic, rosemary, and butter. I stand near the dining room doorway, removing my tie and rolling back the sleeves of my dress shirt. Ivy races through the hallway with Winston tucked beneath one arm and Daisy scrambling after her across the hardwood floors. Winston’s ears flap wildly every time Ivy bounces around a corner, and Daisy nearly slides into a console table trying to keep up.
“Slow down.”
“I’m being careful,” Ivy calls back without slowing even slightly.
“You almost ran into the table.”
“But I didn’t.”
I close my eyes briefly and drag a slow breath through my nose. Somewhere behind me, Irina laughs under her breath.
The front gates buzz through the security system a second later. Ivy freezes so fast Winston nearly slips from her arms before her entire face lights up with excitement.
“Maggie!”
She tears toward the foyer before I can stop her. Winston barks wildly while Daisy races after them, her nails clicking across the floor.
I follow at a slower pace as the front door opens.
Maggie steps inside wearing fitted jeans and a cream-colored shirt. Her hair is loose around her shoulders with nothing on her face beyond lip gloss and a faint flush from the warm air outside. She still hits like a fist directly beneath my ribs.
Ivy launches herself at her immediately.
“You’re here!”
Maggie laughs while catching her against her side, one hand smoothing automatically over Ivy’s hair. “Well, sugar, y’all made me feel guilty.”
“That means the plan worked,” Ivy announces proudly.
