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“I said sit.” Kat gestured with the gun. “Explanations come after you both start acting like adults instead of territorial wolves.”

The men exchanged truculent glances before subsiding onto opposite ends of Gage’s sofa, maximizing the distance between them.

Good grief. Men and their egos.

She lowered the SIG, though she didn’t put it away or hand it back to Gage. “Much better.” She took in the destruction—books scattered, an antique clock knocked from its perch, the shattered picture frame that contained a photo of her and Gage as children.

Leo’s presence was a complication. A complication she’d invited with her desperate message. His eyes tracked her every movement, and despite everything, her skin heated under his gaze.

She shouldn’t have contacted him. Bringing him here only put him at risk.

“Now,” she said, her voice controlled. “I don’t know what the hell just happened, and to be honest, I’m not sure I care. We’re going to figure out how to clean up this mess. Both the literal one—” She gestured at the destroyed living room. “—and the fact that I’ve been framed for treason and MI6 is hunting me down.”

She tucked the gun into her waistband, fixing them both with her most withering glare. “Who wants to go first?”

Neither man spoke. They scowled at each other from opposite ends of the sofa, cataloging the damage they’d done to each other. Blood beaded along Leo’s split lip, the crimson stark against his skin. A purplish swelling had already begun to distort Gage’s left eye, forcing him to squint.

Kat crossed her arms and huffed out a sigh. “Excellent. Two of the most dangerous men I know, reduced to schoolboys in a playground brawl.”

She leaned forward. “While I appreciate this testosterone-fueled display of male prowess, I don’t have time for it.”

She turned to her brother. “Gage, you’re supposed to be my safe harbor, not the HMS Belligerent. Did it occur to you that perhaps you should verify who was at the door before attempting to rearrange his face?”

Gage touched his swollen eye and winced. “He forced his way in, Kat. What was I supposed to do, offer him coffee?”

“You might have mentioned your sister was here.” Leo dabbed at his lip with his thumb.

Kat swiveled toward him, eyes narrowing. “And you, Leonid.” His name rolled off her tongue like a reprimand. “Barging in like you own the place. Did they not teach subtlety in special forces?”

The corner of Leo’s mouth twitched despite his split lip. “You didn’t exactly give me much to work with. ‘They’re coming for me. You’re the only one I can trust.’” His eyes crystallized to hard emerald. “What was I supposed to do, Kat? Wait for an engraved invitation?”

Heat crept up her neck. The desperation of the moment flooded back—typing frantically before Grant barged into her closet. The certainty that her life was imploding around her.

She’d broken Gillian’s cardinal rule. In her moment of crisis, with her walls crumbling, only his name had surfaced.

She hadn’t truly expected him to come. That would have required hope, and hope was a luxury she’d trained herself not to indulge in. Yet here he was—solid and real, bleeding from his lip because of her.

A knot formed in her throat. This was exactly why attachments were dangerous. Because now, seeing him here, she couldn’t pretend his safety didn’t matter to her more than it should.

“You could have called first,” she muttered, knowing how ridiculous it sounded even as the words left her mouth.

“Right.” Leo’s eyebrows rose. “Call the phone that’s undoubtedly being monitored by British intelligence. Brilliant plan.”

“He has a point.” Gage snorted, but quickly sobered when Kat’s stare swung back to him.

Something vulnerable flickered across Leo’s face. “I would always come if you needed me.” He paused, eyes locked with hers. “Because it’s you, Kat.”

Gage shifted uncomfortably. “I need ice. And maybe some Advil. But let’s start with ice.” He pushed himself off the sofa and limped toward the kitchen.

When he was gone, Kat sank onto the coffee table, facing Leo directly. The air between them was thick, a palpable thing she could have touched if she reached out. “Why did you really come? After all this time, why risk everything now?”

Leo closed the distance between them. Close enough that she could smell the faint pine and cedar notes of his cologne beneath the metallic tang of blood and see flecks of winter green in his irises. So close that maintaining her professional detachment required every ounce of her training.

Her pulse raced traitorously. Her throat tightened. She wanted to touch the split in his lip, to apologize for dragging him into her mess.

“Some connections are worth risking everything for.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Youare worth risking everything for.”

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