Page 36 of Eight of Swords, Part Two

It’s the first time she refers to Zaitsev in this way, but he immediately understands. ‘Making rounds,’ he answers. ‘Doing checks. Why, honey?’

She seems frustrated, chewing the inside of her cheek before setting down her spoon, her hands behind the bowl. Obscured from plain sight, she begins to sign with careful, slow precision.

Bad lady dangerous.

Lachlan takes a sip of his coffee, deciding how to answer. He knows where all the visual points are in this room, can speak secretly if he angles his shoulder just so.

She was only upset, not bad.

Mimi makes the gesture that means only one thing.

Daddy bang bang.

Lachlan smiles to himself. ‘No, sweetie. It’s all fine.’

Mimi shakes her head, signs, Lie.

Not a lie. All good.

For the first time in years, she gives him a genuinely angry look and slips off her chair, leaving her breakfast unfinished. Lachlan watches her go, perplexed. Danya is on the other side of the door. He’ll escort her wherever she’s going and seamlessly take over with her for the rest of the day unless needed elsewhere. Lachlan has a cold pit in the core of his stomach.

He knows he did something wrong but just… can’t quite figure it out.

The day before yesterday was admittedly rough.

It upset Mimi to see Carrigan making threats like that about Jules.

He hopes Blaire did a better job of explaining things than he did.

Lachlan heads out to begin checks and, along the way, catches sight of Blaire outside the Cove, talking to Danya. The pair are speaking too quietly for Lachlan to make out the words. Before they notice him, he glimpses them unguarded, their body language unusually entwined.

Blaire isn’t naturally tactile and likes a healthy bubble of personal space, but Danya stands close with one hand on the wall, the other loosely at his side until he lifts it to gently caress the line of her jaw. Blaire never once breaks eye contact with him while it happens, nor does she seem surprised by the touch. She turns into his hand for a moment, her expression pained, like she might cry.

It shocks Lachlan.

He takes it for granted that Blaire is a pillar of calm, continuous strength. Danya seems to be debating hugging her, but he’s the first to notice Lachlan, so it never happens. Blaire glances at him, shuttering her expression as she gives a nod and nothing more.

Lachlan disconnects from it, exquisitely not in the mood to indulge his more dickish tendencies when things are already so brittle in their lives.

He forces a bland smile and moves on.

✴

All day, he’s waiting for a call.

For Carrigan to contact him and tell him he’s wanted in the West Wing for a video call or something. By the end of the day, Lachlan’s more fractious about the fact that nothing’s happened yet, would rather get it over and done with. He’s dreading Penhalyx coming back to the Estate like he did when news of Jules’ bad behaviour reached his ears that summer.

Come night, there’s still nothing.

Rain has hammered the Estate all day, one storm cell passing only for another to roll in behind it. Communications have been crackly, but Rook’s stayed on top of things. The Estate is well prepared for blackouts, storms, even frequency jamming. Even so, Lachlan checks everything twice.

He walks the perimeter himself, tests the encrypted radios and has Rook cycle through every camera feed. The gates are secure. The motion sensors are live. Backup power is standing by. Holtz confirms no activity from the garage. Nothing has failed, nothing is out of place, but the unease persists, low and constant beneath his ribs.

It’s two AM when a lightning strike hits the western weather vane, and then three distant gunshots come out of nowhere.

Lachlan’s in the South Wing when he hears them.

‘Control, seven bells,’ he radios in, already running towards the intrusion. ‘Echo Bay, give me eyes-on confirmation for all Principals.’