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He lifts his chin, the picture of power and control. “We fight back.”

I’ve never felt more useless than I do right now. Yale and Xavier are busy making calls, so all I can do is obsess over the fact that my husband might be dead or dying.

There isn’t just an ache in my chest anymore. It’s a clawing. Like some wild, sharp-clawed creature has found its way into my rib cage and plans on leaving nothing behind.

It feels pointless and selfish to cry. I just sit and wait.

Within hours, strangers arrive. The first is Charlie Callahan. I’ve never seen someone as large. He’s easily close to six foot eight, with a shaved head and an easy smile. If I saw him from a distance, I’d be rightly terrified of the muscles and the determined glare that he had when I first opened the door to him. But the moment his attention landed on me, he softened, grinned, and shook my tiny hand in his.

It also helped that he was sucking a lollipop.

He brings men with him. Some suited, some casual, all dressed in black and heavily armed. Some offer me warm smiles, others words of reassurance about Zayden, and it’s hard to believe these people are killers.

The once empty penthouse is now filled with people wanting to help. It offers some ease to the ache in my chest, because people clearly love and respect the brothers, and I can see why.

Xavier’s new role as leader seems to have taken root quickly. People are turning to him now, and he’s ready with answers, never once stopping to let his concern take over.

I’m seeing Yale in an entirely new light. He was always quiet and playful, but now he’s a contract killer. I even hear some of Charlie’s men mumbling about the X, Y and Z brothers—the legend that they are, apparently. It makes me strangely proud given that I’ve tried my hardest to ignore their line of work for so long.

“You good, love?” Yale slides his arm around my waist, dragging my attention from a group of burly looking men fussing over Bullet.

I nod and lean into him. “Feel a little out of my depth.”

He kisses my temple. “It’ll be over soon, and we can all go home.”

Just when I thought the apartment couldn’t get any fuller, someone else knocks.

Xavier answers. On the other side is someone who I can only describe as one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen—and equally the most terrifying. Dark hair, black clothing, and a look that could cut through bone.

“That’s Envy,” Yale whispers.

It makes sense that she’s the one who runs the Agency. She’s all business the moment she arrives, mumbling something to Xavier and gesturing at the room as if he started something without her and she’s not happy about it. He responds with something likely sarcastic, because she glares at him.

The woman with Envy is in her mid-forties, with gray hair pulled back into a ponytail and an easy smile. She isn’t dressed anything like her boss—she’s in jeans and a thick sweater—and she gazes around the apartment like she’s never seen anything so grand.

“Silence,” Xavier calls out to me. “Come and meet Mercy and Envy.”

I approach, eager to meet the woman that Zayden wanted to be my personal protection. “Hi.” I look between the two women. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Envy doesn’t smile. Mercy, on the other hand, beams at me.

“Lovely to meet you, Silence,” she says.

Xavier says, “Envy, come with me and I’ll fill you in. Mercy, can you stay with Silence?” She nods enthusiastically, and Xavier turns his attention to me. I expect him to touch me, cup my cheek or gently grip my chin like he usually does, and like Yale has been doing all day. He doesn’t. I wonder if it’s because Envy is here and maybe she wouldn’t understand this new dynamic. Either way, it hurts. I hide it behind my intrigue, but I wonder whether he can see it anyway. “Mercy is going to be with you one on one, Silence. She’ll look after you.”

I want you to look after me.

That’s what I want to say to him. It’s what I want to say to Yale, too. But I know they have more important things to do than babysit me, so I nod, smile, and take Mercy into the kitchen.

“This is quite the place,” Mercy says. “I always wanted somewhere big for me and my daughter, but being a teacher doesn’t pay the best salary.”

I open the refrigerator. “You were a teacher?”

“I was. It was fun. Just not for my daughter.”

“You worked at her school?”

“Yep, and she was not a fan of it. Of course, there were always the benefits to having Mom close by. She was forever asking for money.”