Page 47 of Claimed By Daddy

You okay?

I shake my head and grumble, “Apparently, this is what having a little brother would’ve been like.”

Yeah. All Good.

Just parked.

Hawk called.

Same black SUV has circled the block twice in the past ten minutes

Same one he saw yesterday

I grind my teeth and squeeze my phone a little too hard.It was only a matter of time.

Sargsyan?

The plates are for a rental. So, definitely not one of our guys.

Make sure he gets eyes on the nearby buildings.

And keep Eavan off the terrace.

Already on it.

His response comes as Cillian and I are walking past Gunnar and into the apartment. Eavan pads across the living room toward me, damp-haired and wearing a tiny pair of pajama shorts with one of my T-shirts. “Everything okay?” she asks, her eyes scanning over my face.

“Yeah,” I lie too fast, not wanting to worry her. Based on her suspicious expression, I’m certain she catches the slight edge in my tone. I lean in and kiss her temple. “Just some work stuff, princess,” I skirt the truth, wanting to confirm the threat before unsettling her. “I’m gonna go change before dinner gets here. I’ll be back down in a second.”

She smiles, small and guarded, her lips momentarily parting like she wants to argue. But she doesn’t. But worry flickers in her eyes as she offers to get me a glass of wine while I change.

Nikolai follows up the stairs behind me. His voice low, so Eavan doesn’t overhear, he shares what I already know. “If they’re circling enough to concern Hawk… they’re not scouting. They’re waiting.”

They know what they want and where to find her. They’re just waiting for us to give them the opportunity. “I know,” I groan on exhale as we reach the top of the stairs.

When I reach my room, I sit on the edge of the bed and stare blindly at the dark windows. I drag my hands down my face, thinking about all the ways things could go wrong, all the ways we could fail her… And worse, all the ways I could lose her.

I watch them from my seat at the corner of the kitchen island, perched with my wine glass sitting loosely between my fingers, the rim of it catching the soft kitchen lights. The scent of takeout—dumplings, skewers, teriyaki, and some spare ribs that no one asked for but everyone keeps eating—hangs in the air, mixing with the smoky hint of bourbon and the sweet perfume of the Shiraz I’m drinking. There’s food everywhere.Too much food.Silverware clinks and takeout containers trade hands like poker chips.

Nikolai sits at the opposite end of the island, one elbow braced against the granite counter, swirling vodka in a glass like he’s narrating a classic novel. He’s halfwaythrough retelling his version of the accident that somehow bonded the three of them. He’s in full storyteller mode—animated, with hands flailing as he speaks.

“And then,” he pauses for the utmost dramatics, “Enzo comes barreling through the fire doors in the headmaster’s Buick.”

Cillian snorts, chewing through a mouthful of dumpling. “Screaming like a little girl”—he glances at me—“no offense. Because he was pinned in the car.”

“I wasnotscreaming like a girl,” Enzo insists.

“Enzo was stuck,” Nikolai continues his story, a broad smile spreading across his face. “Notscreaming like a girl.” I can’t help the full-bodied laugh that tumbles from me.

“Fuck all of you,” Enzo playfully snips. He is leaning back, one arm draped across the back of my stool, his other hand wrapped around a glass of wine from the bottle we’ve been sharing.

“We pulled him free. His shirt was soaked with blood, and tears weredefinitely notstreaming down his face.” He winks obnoxiously as he recounts the events. “And then the two of us dragged his sorry ass home.”

“Lies,” Enzo waves dismissively. “Almostcomplete and utter lies.”

Cillian wipes his hands on a napkin and sends a mock glare down the island. “And I’ve been stuck with the two of them ever since.”

“Come on, brother.” Enzo grins, nudging him with a foot under the counter ledge. “You love it. Your life would be boring as fuck without us.”

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