Page 80 of Princess of Vengeance

“So,” she says, wrapping her hands around her mug. “Do you wanna tell me what’s going on?”

I take a long sip of coffee, using the moment to gather my thoughts. “It’s complicated.”

She offers a wry smile at what’s got to be the understatement of the fucking century. “When isn’t it?”

I start talking, but I’m careful to leave out the most dangerous details. I tell her about Malcolm—just that we’re married now, not the circumstances that led to it. I talk about trying to rebuild Enigma, and how much guilt I still carry for not being able to protect my members when shit hit the fan.

Willow listens without interrupting, nodding along and flashing knowing looks at some of the details. She’s been inthis world long enough to fill in at least some of the blanks for herself.

“And your men?” she asks when I finally run out of things to say. “Where do they fit into all this?”

I look down at my coffee, unsure of how much I should tell her. I trust Willow with my life, but some things aren’t mine to share. “They’re safe. As safe as they can be, anyway. We’re keeping our distance for now. It’s better that way.”

Willow studies me for a long moment. “That’s bullshit.” There’s no accusation or heat in her voice, just concern. “But I understand that there are things you can’t tell me. Things that would put me and my men and the baby at risk if I knew.”

I nod, grateful that she really does understand. “I didn’t want to drag you into this. I just needed…” I trail off, not sure how to finish that sentence without sounding pathetic.

“A friendly face?” Willow suggests. “Someone to lean on?”

“Yeah.” I nod and swallow hard. “Something like that.”

The baby stirs in her crib, making small snuffling noises before settling back into sleep. Willow watches her for a moment, and her face softens again.

“You know,” she says quietly, “there was a time when I thought I’d never have this. A home. A family. Safety.” She looks back at me. “I wouldn’t have any of it if it weren’t for you.”

I shake my head. “You don’t owe me anything, Willow.”

“This isn’t about owing,” she insists. “It’s about caring. And whatever is going on with you right now, I care. We care. We’re here for you, however you need us to be.”

Her words hit me harder than I expected, cracking open something in my chest that I’ve been trying to keep sealed shut. I blink to fight back the sudden rush of emotion.

“Thank you,” I manage to say, then take a deep breath to get myself back together. I’ll be damned if I’m going to start crying now—mainly because I’m not sure I’d be able to stop.

We talk a while longer, about lighter things like her baby, her plans for the future, stories about her men that make me laugh. It’s only a short break from the nightmare my life has become, but god, it’s a necessary one.

Eventually, though, I know I need to leave soon. Malcolm’s men are waiting for me, and I can’t stay in one place for too long without raising suspicion. Especially after how late I stayed out with my men just yesterday.

As I stand to leave, Willow catches my arm. “Wait,” she says. “I have an idea.”

She disappears into another room, then comes back a minute later with Victor. He nods to me, friendly enough but still serious as always.

“Willow filled me in,” he says, pulling something small from his pocket. “Not with a lot of details, just that you might need a lifeline.”

He holds out an old school, basic burner phone. One of the tiny ones that flip open. “It’s programmed with our numbers,” he explains. “But there’s also a panic button on the side. Press it three times quickly, and it’ll send an SOS ping to our phones with your GPS location.”

I stare at the phone, then at Victor and Willow, not sure what to say.

“It’s not fancy,” he continues, placing the phone in my hand. “But if you’re ever in real trouble and can’t call or text, this gives you another option. A lifeline.”

“I don’t understand,” I say, genuinely confused. “Any debt you might have owed me was paid a long time ago. Why would you do this?”

Willow steps forward and pulls me into a tight hug. “It’s not about debt,” she says against my ear. “This is what friends do for each other.”

I stand frozen for a moment, clutching the phone in my hand. Then, slowly, I hug her back.

“I don’t have many friends,” I admit when she finally pulls away.

Willow smiles. “Well, you have us, whether you like it or not.”

---