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KYRA

K yra woke before dawn, her body instantly alert despite having slept only a few hours. The weight of Max's arm draped across her waist was both comforting and unfamiliar.

His steady breathing warmed the back of her neck, and for a moment, she allowed herself to savor the closeness.

No wonder she'd had such a good night's sleep.

She felt safe for the first time in forever.

So much had changed since her rescue from that hellhole in Tahav. She'd gone from being a prisoner with no known family other than her rebel crew, to being set free and discovering she had a grown daughter, four nieces who needed her protection, and possibly four sisters and their families waiting to be saved. Not to mention whatever was developing between her and Max—this connection that had sparked instantly and burned with an intensity that thrilled her but also scared her a little.

She didn't know how to do this or be a part of a couple, and she was winging it, hoping that staying true to herself would be enough. Heck, she couldn't be anything else even if she tried. But it was okay. Max was like her, and he understood her—the same way she understood him.

For better or for worse, they were warriors, both dealing with the ugly side of humanity—him fighting traffickers and pedophiles in addition to Doomers and her fighting a fanatical regime that had stripped Iranian women of fundamental human rights and financed terror globally.

She and Max were comrades in arms, and even though it seemed like they were fighting different battles, it looked like their enemies were working together.

Carefully, she slipped from under his arm and exited the bed. Max stirred but didn't wake. He must feel safe with her to sleep so peacefully.

She allowed herself a moment to study him—the strong line of his jaw, the slight furrow between his brows, the way his blond hair fell across his forehead. It was hard to reconcile his youthful, almost boyish appearance with his age, and that was coming from her, an immortal who was nearly fifty years old. Still, he'd lived for half a millennium, and compared to that, she was a baby immortal.

Max had seen empires rise and fall .

His eyes suddenly fluttered open. "Time to go?" he murmured, his voice husky with sleep.

"Not yet." She cupped one cheek and leaned to kiss the other. "But soon."

Smiling, he reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingertips brushing over her cheek. "I should head downstairs to my apartment to get ready."

"We can have breakfast when you return."

"Sounds like a plan." He slipped out of bed, pushed his feet into his boots, and, after a quick peck on her cheek, exited the master suite, closing the door silently behind him.

If he encountered anyone on the way out, they would assume that she and Max had shared a night of passion. No one would believe that they had just slept in each other's arms, finding comfort and strength in the closeness, in the connection.

Let them believe what they would.

Kyra didn't care.

After a quick shower, she dressed in her new tactical gear, appreciating how perfectly everything fit. The cargo pants with multiple pockets, the lightweight top that wouldn't restrict her movement, the boots that felt as if they'd been made specifically for her feet and weighed next to nothing.

She strapped her pendant around her neck, then slid the two rings Jasmine had given her onto her fingers. They felt foreign on her hand—relics from a life she couldn't remember. But perhaps her sisters would recognize them, and that recognition might help her prove to them that she was indeed their sibling despite not having aged much since they had parted decades ago. Her sisters had been so young then that they might not remember what she had looked like.

She was zipping up her bag when she heard a soft knock on her door.

"Come in," she called, expecting Max, but instead Jasmine poked her head in.

"The girls are up," she said. "They want to see you before you go."

"I was hoping to let them sleep." Kyra shouldered her pack.

Jasmine shook her head. "Not a chance. I think they have barely slept, waiting for you to get up, and they would never forgive you if you tried to sneak out without giving them one last hug."

Jasmine's comment warmed Kyra's heart. Her nieces had barely gotten to know her, but they were already attached to her and she to them.

As she and Jasmine passed by the door to Arezoo and Laleh's room, it flew open, and Arezoo stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips.

"You weren't going to leave without saying goodbye, were you?"

"Of course not," Kyra said. "I was just coming to wake you."

The other three girls appeared behind Arezoo, looking sleepy and determined at the same time. Laleh, the youngest, rubbed her eyes.

It seemed that the four girls had all slept in one bedroom, which was kind of sweet. It made perfect sense that they would feel safer together.

"We want to make you breakfast," Arezoo announced.

"That's really not—" Kyra began, but Arezoo cut her off with a gesture that was so like Kyra's own that Jasmine laughed.

"Nonnegotiable," Arezoo said. "Donya makes excellent eggs, and I can handle the coffee. Azadeh, go get the fruit from the refrigerator."

Watching the girls mobilize with military precision, Kyra felt a swell of pride. Despite everything they'd endured, they retained a resilience that was nothing short of remarkable.

They were survivors, just like her.

"You might as well surrender," Jasmine murmured. "When Arezoo makes up her mind, there's no changing it. I wonder where she gets that from?" There was a teasing lilt to her voice as she cast a sideways glance at Kyra.

While the girls got busy in the kitchen, Kyra and Jasmine sat at the bar and watched.

Jasmine leaned toward her. "You've left one rebel group only to lead another, but I have a feeling that Arezoo will fight you over leadership."

Kyra nodded. "She reminds me a lot of myself. I guess it is true what they say about blood being thicker than water."

"Yeah." Jasmine winced. "The problem is that we carry some nasty genes in addition to the good ones. I don't like what your father did to you. He wasn't a good person."

"No, he wasn't," Kyra agreed.

She would have liked to believe that her father had had her best interests at heart when he’d stolen her from her husband and daughter and asked Durhad to make her forget about them, but now she had to accept that this was not true. Based on the information that she had pieced together from what she'd learned, it had become obvious that his career and his reputation were the only reasons he hadn't killed her but instead had her committed to an insane asylum for reprogramming. He'd hoped no one would ever find out her so-called transgression, and so his honor would remain intact.

When the doorbell rang, Ell-rom walked over to the door and opened the way for Max.

He was dressed in tactical gear similar to hers, and a duffel bag was slung over his shoulder.

His face brightened when he saw the scene in the kitchen. "Something smells amazing," he said, setting his bag down.

"Breakfast is almost ready," Arezoo said. "You all need to move to the dining room. There are not enough seats next to the counter."

As they headed to where Arezoo wanted them, the doorbell rang, and Jasmine went to answer it, returning with Fenella in tow.

"I smell coffee," Fenella said, sliding into a seat on Max's other side.

She looked good in a pair of black leggings and an oversized blue top. Some color had returned to her cheeks, and her smile looked more genuine, but even though Fenella was healing and her natural beauty was emerging, Kyra was no longer jealous of her.

Last night's episode was one big misunderstanding, and Kyra was now secure in the knowledge that Max was interested only in her, and Fenella was just a friend to him.

Arezoo brought the coffee pot to the table, pouring for everyone with the gravitas of someone performing a sacred ritual. Donya followed with a large platter of eggs, Azadeh with another one of cut fruit, and Laleh with a basket of toasted sliced bread.

"Thank you," Max said, helping himself to some eggs. "This looks very nice and much better than anything I make."

"Do you cook often?" Donya asked him.

Max laughed. "Let's just say my culinary skills peaked sometime during the Renaissance, and I haven't bothered updating them since. I can build a decent cooking fire, though."

Kyra stifled a laugh. He was exaggerating and clowning around to put the girls at ease.

"Renaissance?" Laleh's brow furrowed. "That was hundreds of years ago. "

"It was," Max agreed. "I'm that old." He winked.

Laleh giggled. "You're joking. Right?"

"Not at all. I'm over five hundred years old."

Kyra enjoyed watching the easy way he interacted with her nieces, drawing out smiles and questions even from Azadeh, who was the least talkative of the four. His ability to put people at ease and make them feel safe around him was endearing, even though he sometimes overdid it. She could see how some could interpret his teasing as offensive.

Not her, though, and not her smart nieces, who got his dry humor.

The conversation flowed around Kyra as they ate and drank coffee and chatted as if they'd been a family for years instead of just days.

Max glanced at his watch. "We should be heading out. Traffic in LA is unpredictable, and we don't want the others to have to wait for us."

A heavy silence fell over the table, and then Arezoo stood up, coming around to wrap her arms around Kyra's neck. "Bring our mothers, aunts, and cousins," she whispered fiercely.

"I will," Kyra promised, holding her niece tightly.

One by one, the other girls came to embrace her while Max stood a couple of feet away, giving them space for their goodbyes.

When the girls were finally done, he touched her elbow. "We should go."

Kyra hugged Jasmine, Fenella, and Ell-rom next, and then she and Max gathered their belongings and headed for the elevator.

"Hold on," Jasmine called after them. "I almost forgot." She produced a familiar velvet pouch from her pocket. "For luck." She handed it to Kyra.

"Your tarot cards?" Kyra asked. "But last night you said?—"

"I know what I said," Jasmine interrupted. "But I want you to take them. You left them for me to guide me through some dark times, but now you need them more than I do. It's just a loan." Jasmine pressed the pouch into Kyra's hands. "You'll have to return them to me. I consider it insurance that you'll come back."

Kyra's throat tightened with emotion as her fingers closed around the pouch, feeling the well-worn velvet between her fingers. "I promise to bring them back."

Jasmine pulled her into a fierce embrace, and Kyra held her daughter close, memorizing the feel of her, the scent of her hair. Twenty-three years had been stolen from them. After the completion of this mission, she vowed not to allow anything to take even one more day.

"I love you, Mom," Jasmine whispered, the words nearly undoing Kyra completely.

"I love you too, sweetie," she murmured.