Page 139 of Dual

“Yes, you can.” Bane’s voice is gentle but firm. “That’s exactly what you should do. Sit here and care for your son and wait for her to finish whatever she’s doing. Because that’s what she needs from you.”

I want to argue. Want to rage. Want to tear the world apart looking for her. But Connor’s weight in my arms keeps me grounded. He needs me here. Needs me stable.

“She said soon,” Moira points out. “In the note. She said she’d be home soon.”

Soon. Such a relative term. Soon could be days or weeks or months. But she’s never lied to me. Not about the important things. If she says soon, she means it.

The evening wears on, comfortable in its strange domesticity. Isaak and I sit on the couch and both of our babies crash out against our chests, their little heads turned towards each other. Two babies who might grow up as close as siblings. Moira curls into Bane’s side, stable in ways I never thought I’d see, while Kira sits on Isaak’s other side, occasionally sharing those little looks and touches that speak of deep contentment.

And me? I hold my son and count his breaths and wait for his mother to come home.

FORTY-TWO

January

ANNA

Mads kept tryingto take over this morning, her presence pressing against the edges of my consciousness like a caged animal testing its bars. But I was determined to show her I can be the brave one, for once.

I can take care of us, too.

“Fine,” she finally agreed, her voice a reluctant whisper in my mind. “But I’m right here if you need me.”

I can feel her there, coiled and ready to spring into action if the plan—ifanything—goes wrong. Neither of us hassensed Red’s presence since we gave birth. Sometimes I wonder if the act of bringing Connor into the world... satisfied her? Or somehow fulfilled whatever primal need for protection that called her into being?

Even Mads has had a different respect for me ever since I took on that particular task. The memory of the quick, terrifying labor in that bunker still makes me shudder—the pain and the panic that I wasn’t strong enough to push out the baby on my own. But I’d stayed present for every second of it. No switching. No running away into the safety of my mind.

I think Mads was even a little intimidated, actually. Especially after those first few weeks with baby Connor, when I barely slept, when my nipples were cracked and bleeding from nursing, when I walked the floors at three a.m. with a screaming infant who wouldn’t be soothed. Mads was present, but off in the corner of my mind, watching anxiously as I took the helm.

“You’re actually doing it,”she’d whispered one night, wonder coloring her mental voice as I changed Connor’s diaper for the third time in an hour.“You’re being a mom.”

At last, I think I’ve finally proven to her that I’m no longer that terrified little girl who needed her to survive.

I’ve finally grown up. I’m a mother now, after all.

God, I miss Connor. This last month away from him has felt like I’m missing a limb. I keep touching my stomach, but he’s not there anymore. And he’s not in my arms. But I know somewhere in my head that he’s with his father and he’s safe.They’re both safe at Domhnall’s secure compound outside Dallas, surrounded by Isaak’s best men.

But knowing isn’t the same as holding him or breathing in his sweet baby scent or feeling his tiny fingers wrap around mine.

Which is why I’m determined to bring this to an end.

Today.

I stand at the edge of Klyde Warren Park in downtown Dallas, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the food trucks and families enjoying the unseasonably mild weather.

It’s the perfect location—public enough that no one would dare attempt anything too dramatic but with enough open space that we can see threats coming from any direction.

Domhnall is already here.

I can see him sitting on a bench near the children’s area, and my heart clenches at the sight of him pushing the stroller back and forth with one hand.

To anyone watching, he looks like a father giving his baby some fresh air.

Only I know the stroller is empty, our precious Connor safe at home with armed guards.

“This plan is insane,”Mads hisses in my mind.“There are too many variables.”

But I’ve run down every lead and checked every corner of the dark web I can find. There’s no record of Kozlov ever having a son, and all of his lieutenants have been wipedoff the board. I haven’t sensed any activity anywhere. And frankly, I’m tired of running.