Page 140 of Ruined By Blood
I growl in frustration, reaching for the phone without dislodging her. "It better be fucking life or death."
The look of amusement on Sienna's face as she watches me is worth every inconvenience. That playful expression is still new, still precious. A reminder of how far she's come, of the woman emerging from beneath the trauma.
I answer the call with more force than necessary. "What?"
"It's about Noah," Matteo's voice cuts through my frustration, all business.
I sit up straighter, instantly alert. Noah never needs backup unless shit has gone catastrophically wrong. "What happened?"
Sienna slides off me, wrapping the sheet around herself as she watches my face. I can feel her tension from here – she's learned to read the shifts in my tone.
"He took a woman to his apartment last night. Evelyn Anderson."
"Anderson?" The name rings familiar, but I can't place it immediately.
"The violinist. Three men attacked her. Noah stepped in, killed them all." Matteo's voice lowers. "He took her to his place."
My blood runs cold. Noah doesn't break protocol, and he certainly doesn't bring civilians to his private residence. "He what?"
"Says he couldn't leave her. The men were Volkov's."
"You're sure?" I swing my legs over the side of the bed, already reaching for my clothes. Ivan Volkov's organization encroaching on our territory means serious fucking trouble.
"Positive. They had the tattoo – the one all Volkov's men share. The eagle on their wrists."
"Fuck." I run a hand through my hair. "Where's Noah now?"
"Still at his apartment with the woman. She's... shaken up. He says he's not leaving her."
That doesn't sound like Noah at all.
"Tell him I'm coming over. And Matteo? Keep this quiet. No one outside our immediate circle needs to know about this until we figure out what Volkov is playing at."
I end the call and turn to find Sienna already pulling on her clothes, her movements efficient and precise.
"What happened?" she asks, concern etched across her features.
"Noah's gotten himself into something complicated." I grab my shirt, buttons flying as I yank it on. "He killed three of Volkov's men last night. Took a woman to his place."
Sienna's hands freeze on her zipper. "Noah brought someone to his apartment? The same Noah who doesn't let anyone of you get there?"
"The very same." I holster my gun at my back, habit more than immediate need. "Violinist named Evelyn Anderson."
Recognition flashes across Sienna's face. "I've heard of her. She was featured in that arts magazine last month. Why would Volkov's men attack her?"
"That's what I intend to find out." I cross to her, cupping her face in my hands. "I need to handle this. You stay here."
She raises an eyebrow. "Are you asking or telling?"
The question isn't combative – it's a genuine check-in. Six months ago, I would have simply ordered her to stay put. Now I know better.
"Asking," I clarify, pressing my forehead to hers. "This could be dangerous. Volkov doesn't send his men after random civilians."
I stroke my thumb across her cheek, feeling the softness of her skin. The woman standing before me is so different from the broken girl I found at the casino. That haunted look in her eyes has been replaced by determination, by strength.
"I'll wait for you," she says, covering my hand with hers. "Just be careful."
Something in her concern tugs at parts of me I never knew existed before her. In the past I wouldn't have thought twice about walking into danger. Now I have someone waiting for me to come back.
