Page 95 of Daggermouth

His hand found the small of her back as they walked, feeling the tension vibrating through her spine. Every instinct screamed at him to take her to his room, to keep her close where he could stand guard, where he could hold her.

“You can stay in the guest room for as long as you need,” he said instead, pushing open the door to reveal the space he’d prepared. Neutral grays and soft blues—her favorite colors.

Lira paused in the doorway, and he watched her shoulders drop fractionally.

“I’ll run you a bath, and make you tea. You need something warm,” Callum said softly as she moved into the room.

Lira nodded, taking in the space as he forced himself to focus on his tasks. Turning on the bath, adjusting the temperature, laying out towels. Each movement kept his hands busy, kept them from reaching for her, from pulling her against him and promising things he had no right to promise.

“There are clothes in the wardrobe,” he said, not looking at her. “They should fit.”

He’d bought them years ago, telling himself it was just prudence, just preparation, not hope for a future with her. The lie tasted bitter now.

“Callum.” Her voice stopped him at the door.

He turned back, finding her standing by the window, silhouetted against the city lights below. Even hurt, even in pain, she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

The most beautiful thing he’d ever lost.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“You don’t need to thank me, Li. Not ever.”

Something unspoken passed between them, that old thread tugging him toward her. He turned away abruptly before he could act on it, and fled.

There was no other word for the way he left the room, driven out by the weight of everything he couldn’t say. The hallway felt longer than usual, the walls closer. His apartment—his sanctuary, his refuge—had become haunted by his mistakes the moment she’d entered it.

Callum allowed his posture to finally break out of her sight, his shoulders slumping as he leaned against the wall. The rage ricocheting inside his veins threatened to erupt, to send him into the night seeking vengeance against a man who thought himself too powerful to touch.

He dragged a hand down his mask, before pushing from the wall and retrieving his tablet from his pocket. He typed in a code and the screen flared to life with security protocols. Three layers of encryption, two proxy servers, and a voice scrambler that would make him sound like static to anyone trying to trace the call.

The line connected after two rings.

“We need to meet,” Callum said without preamble.

“Tomorrow?” The voice on the other end was careful, recognizing the deviation from their usual protocol.

“Tonight. No—” Callum caught himself, glancing back at the guest room door. “Tomorrow night. Things have escalated.”

“I want an extraction—”

“Absolutely fucking not.” The words came out harder than intended, sharp enough to cut. “We stick to the original plan. There is no way to extract safely. Once the Vow ceremony is completed, we can talk new arrangements.”

“The plan didn’t account for—”

“The plan accounts for variables,” Callum interrupted. “This is a variable. We adapt, we don’t abandon.”

“Thane—”

“Listen to me,” he hissed, checking the hallway to ensure he remained alone. “Maximus has doubled security at every checkpoint. The Heart is crawling with his personal guard. Moving now would get them all killed.”

Quiet stretched across the connection, weighted with silent arguments. Finally, “She needs to know we’re trying.”

“I don’t give a damn about her if it fucks with my plan.” Callum sucked in a long breath, his jaw flexing before he continued. “Fine. I will make sure she is at the meet tomorrow. But you can send one person. One. They will be able to talk to her. But if they try to get her out, I will kill them. Nothing gets in the way of this plan.”

A pause.

“Two.”