We landed at a private, unmarked airstrip in the mountains of Montana just as dusk was settling.
The estate was a sprawling, heavily fortified compound surrounded by towering pines and high-security fencing. It was beautiful, isolated, and completely a cage.
For the first forty-eight hours, I refused to speak to Leo. I stayed in the expansive nursery wing they had prepared for the baby, whom I learned was named Mia. The room was stocked with everything a child could ever need, yet it felt heavy with the absence of the life I had lost.
But every time Mia cried, my walls crumbled.
Holding her, feeding her, watching her tiny fingers curl around my blouse—it was a devastating mercy. My body was healing because she needed it to. My mind was clearing because I had no choice but to be present for her.
On the third night, Leo entered the nursery quietly. He had taken off his suit jacket, his white shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal dark, intricate tattoos wrapping around his forearms. He looked exhausted.
“The men who targeted your apartment have been taken care of,” he said, standing by the window as I rocked a sleeping Mia in my arms. “The threat to your life in Chicago is gone.”
I looked up at him through the dim light of the nursery lamp. “Then let me go home.”
Leo turned around, his jaw tight. “I promised you protection, Nora. But I didn’t tell you the whole truth.”
He walked over and sat on the edge of the heavy wooden changing table, looking down at his boots.
“Mia’s mother didn’t abandon her. She was killed in the same operational hit that was meant for me three weeks ago. I am surrounded by enemies, and my daughter was starving because I couldn’t trust anyone enough to bring them near her. Until you stood up on that plane.”
