Howard freezes when the guards seize him, snapping restraints around his wrists. The other man is hauled up from the floor, still unconscious, dragged away like dead weight.
And suddenly, the room is quiet. Too quiet.
I turn then, finally, and look at Mila.
She’s standing exactly where I left her, looking white as a sheet. Her hands are clenched tight at her sides and when our eyes meet, she exhales like she’s been holding her breath for hours.
I close the distance between us in two strides and pull her into my arms. “You’re safe,solnishka“I say, my voice low and firm. “Let’s go home.”
She nods weakly, leaning heavily into my frame. I guide her to my car, keep one hand at her back the whole drive, grounding us both in the simple fact that she’s here. Breathing. Safe.
The drive home seems like forever. Mila doesn’t say a word, just stares blankly outside the passenger side window. Inside the house, I take her coat from her shoulders, set it aside, then guide her to the couch. My hand stays at her back until she sits.
“Talk to me,” I say gently. “Start from the beginning.”
She exhales, shaky. “I…I forgot my laptop.”
My jaw tightens. I wait.
“I realized it when I got home,” she continues, eyes fixed on her hands. “I tried to tell myself it could wait until morning, but I needed it. And—” she hesitates. “I really needed something to focus on after dinner.”
The words hit me like a punch in the guts.This is my fucking fault.
“So I went back,” she continues. “The building was quiet. Too quiet. I was almost at my desk when I heard voices coming from the conference room.” Her fingers knot together. “I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. I swear. I was just passing by, but then I heard something about manifests and containers.” She swallows. “It sounded serious so I stopped. I shouldn’t have, but I did.”
I sit forward now, elbows on my knees. “What did they say?”
Her eyes flick up to mine, searching. “They were angry. About you. About how things were changing. Howard said it wouldn’t have happened if your father were still alive.”
My chest goes cold.
“I knew then I shouldn’t be there,” she goes on quickly. “I tried to leave quietly. I really did. I took one step back and—” She winces. “There was a cart behind me. I didn’t see it. I bumped it and a stack of binders fell. It was so loud.”
I can see it. The sharp crack of plastic. The silence afterward.
“I thought…I thought they were going to hurt me.” She looks up at me then, eyes shining with unshed tears. “And all I could think was that I didn’t want that to be the end. Not without fixing things between us.”
My chest tightens.
“I kept thinking about you,” she says. “About how angry I was. About how I never told you—” she stops, presses her lips together. “I kept thinking I might never get the chance to makethings right.” I reach out, take her hands, and she lets out a shaky breath.
Silence stretches between us, thick with everything unsaid.
“You were going to leave me,” I say quietly.
She flinches. “Just for a day. Maybe two. I needed time.”
“I don’t like it,” I admit. “But I’ll deal with that later.”
Her shoulders relax a fraction.
“There’s something else,” she says. “When I was standing there, scared out of my mind…I realized something. Those men—your father—they’re not you. You don’t move like them. You don’t talk like them. You don’t look at people like they’re disposable.” Her thumb brushes over my knuckle. “You protect. I mean that’s all you’ve ever done,” she says with a breezy chuckle. “You’re my daddy,” she adds with a hint of playful intimacy.
My chest spreads with emotions—big emotions that I can’t define or deny. I pull her closer, until she’s half in my lap, her forehead resting against my chest. I cradle her face, force her to look at me.
“I love you,” I say. No hesitation. No armor left. “I didn’t plan it. I didn’t want it. But it happened anyway. You happened.”
Her breath shudders and her face breaks into the biggest, most beautiful smile. “I love you too.”