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JENNA

I ’d rushed down the path to the cottage to check on Mom before I returned to work. I was barely inside when a boom shook the windows.

“Mom!” I hurry in, not sure what’s going on but needing to find Mom.

“Goodness, what is that?” my mother asks from her chair, her gaze pointed out the window. But from there, you can see the house and that’s where the loud sound came from.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, I just?—”

Another explosion rips through the air. I go back to the door, looking out toward the house. My heart stops. Flames leap into the sky, casting an orange glow across the estate grounds.

“Oh, God, not again.”

"Jenna?" Mom's voice sounds far away.

The smoke. The heat. It's happening again.

In an instant, I'm thirteen, standing in this same house, watching while screams pierce the night as flames devour the mansion.

Black smoke billows from every window. Someone grabs my arm, Mom, pulling me out the door and deeper into the property, away from the inferno.

“Jenns?” Mom’s voice snaps me back. "What’s going on?”

“I don’t know except… there’s fire… I think there must be another attack.

” Realizing we could be in danger, I slam the door and lock it.

I rush around, making sure the windows are locked and curtains are closed.

I want to call Blaise, but I know he’s busy protecting the house and the Keans.

That is if he’s not already dead from the attack.

How could this be happening again? I’m terrified that I’ll need to witness another family's world burn to ashes. But this time it's different. This time, someone I love might be caught in the blaze.

More explosions rock the ground. The guards are shouting. Sirens wail in the distance.

"Blaise."

"He's trained for this, sweetheart. The guards know what they're doing."

I pace the small living room, unable to stand still. Every explosion makes me flinch. "But what if?—”

"No what-ifs." She grabs my hand as I pass, her grip surprisingly strong. "Come sit with me."

I sink into the chair next to her, feeling scared and helpless. The smell of smoke drifts into the house.

“I just invited him for dinner to meet you.”

“I know.”

"I can't lose him, Mom. We just found each other."

She strokes my hair like she did when I was little. "You won't."

But her reassurance doesn’t help. I press my face into her shoulder. "I should be out there. I should help?—”

"You'll only get in the way of the emergency crews." Her words are gentle but firm. "The best thing we can do is stay here where it's safe."

She said the same thing ten years ago, assuring me that everything would be okay. But it wasn’t. So many people died.

Mom cups my face, forcing me to look at her. “I’m sure they have precautions in place. After all, they know what happened before too. You need to have faith in the Keans and those they have to protect them.”

I try. I really try. But all I can think about is how quickly happiness can turn to ash. It seems like forever before I look out of the house. There is still a lot of smoke, but no fires. The house is intact.

I have to know if Blaise is alright. I slip away while Mom is resting in her room.

"Blaise!" My voice gets lost in the mayhem of shouts. Guards sprint past me, weapons drawn. "Has anyone seen Blaise?"

A flash of movement catches my eye. Blond hair and strong build. My heart leaps. Could it be him?

"Blaise!" I start toward him, but strong hands grab my shoulders.

"You shouldn’t be out here. Get inside.” Mr. Jones, one of Mr. Kean’s guards who works with Blaise, spins me around.

“Is Blaise okay?” I resist his effort to push me back.

“He’s doing his job.” His grip tightens. "This is an active situation. We can't have you wandering around." His tone leaves no room for argument. He even waves over a younger guard I don't recognize. “Get her to the cottage.”

The guard takes my arm, steering me away from the chaos, but I resist, tugging my arm free.

"But—”

“Seriously. You’ll make it worse for him, for all of us. Get the fuck back!” Jones barks.

I don’t want to make it worse, so I let the guard lead me back.

"Stay inside," the guard says when we reach the door. "Lock up."

The door closes behind me with a final click.

“Jenna?” Mom’s worried voice carries from her bedroom.

“I’m here.” I go to her.

“I’ve been calling. Did you leave?” She looks terrified.

“I had to check on Blaise.”

"Don't ever scare me like that again."

I sit with her, taking her hand. “I’m sorry.”

The night drags on as I wait to get the all-clear, but it doesn’t come. I try to go to bed, but I stare at my ceiling watching the time drift by. Two AM. Three. Four. Sleep doesn’t come. Every time I close my eyes, I see flames, Blaise running toward danger instead of away from it.

Dawn creeps through my window. I drag myself out of bed and splash cold water on my face, but it doesn't help. The mirror shows dark circles under my eyes, skin pale as milk. I look as haunted as I feel.

The kettle whistles as I make Mom's morning tea.

"You should eat something." Mom appears in her robe.

I shake my head. "I can't."

"Just toast? For me?"

I don’t want to add to her worry or stress, so I make toast, but I force down only two bites before pushing the plate away. Why has no one come to let us know all is well? Why hasn’t Blaise come to check on me? Are they all dead?

“I need to go see what’s going on.” I put my coat on.

“Don’t get in their way, sweetheart.”

“I won’t.” I step out the front door. We’re angled to the house and I can see that the back is untouched.

But the bushes and trees near the front of the house are burned.

The smell of smoke still lingers. Guards patrol the grounds.

Work crews are assessing the damage. There doesn’t seem to be a lot of damage, considering the noise.

But no Blaise.

"Hey!" I catch the sleeve of a passing maintenance worker. "Have you heard anything about casualties? The guards who were injured?"

He shakes his head, pulling away. "Sorry, we're just here for cleanup."

I enter through the back kitchen. It’s buzzing with activity, as if nothing happened.

“Is everyone alright?” I ask Debbie, who barely looks up from the French toast she’s cooking.

“Oh, hey. You good?”

“Yes. What happened? Is everyone alright?”

“I have no clue. No one does. No one has explained anything. We’re told just to do what we normally do.”

"Less talking, more cooking," the head chef snaps.

Through the kitchen windows, I spot a familiar figure on the lawn. My heart stops. Blaise. He's alive, standing there, talking to Ronan like it's any other day. They shake hands and then Ronan walks off.

I bolt from the kitchen, running as fast as I can across the grounds. "Blaise!"

He turns at my voice, and everything else fades away—the smoke damage, the workers, even Ronan. I crash into Blaise's chest, my fingers clutching onto him like I’m afraid he’ll disappear.

"You're okay. You're really okay." I press my face into his neck, breathing in his scent beneath the lingering smoke. "I was so scared."

His arms wrap around me, steadying my shaking body. "Hey, I'm fine. Just doing my job."

"I couldn't sleep. Couldn't stop imagining—” My voice breaks. "Why didn't you come tell me you were safe?"

"Things were chaotic. We had to secure the perimeter, check for more devices." His hand strokes my hair. "I'm sorry I worried you."

I pull back just enough to see his face, needing to memorize every detail. A smudge of soot marks his cheek. His suit reeks of smoke. But he's whole. Alive. Here.

“You’re okay? I was told you and your mom were in the cottage.”

I nod. “Yes. We were fine. Just worried. It felt like déjà vu… the Ifrinns all over again.” I look up at him. "Who would do this? The Keans are good people.”

Blaise stiffens. “Are you saying the Ifrinns weren’t good people? They deserved?—”

“No, not at all.” I narrow my eyes at him, wondering why he’d say that. “No one deserves this. I’m just saying… without the Keans, Mom probably wouldn’t be here. I certainly couldn’t be taking care of her. That’s how good the Keans are.”

The muscles in Blaise's jaw tics. "Maybe someone has a different perspective on the Keans."

"What perspective could justify this?" I gesture at the scorched walls, the broken windows. "They're good people. And now someone's trying to hurt them just like the Ifrinns. Why? It doesn’t make sense.”

He studies me like he’s surprised. Like he thinks I should know reasons someone would want to hurt the family.

I’m not so na?ve that I don’t know the sort of business the Keans are in.

I suppose they could have made enemies. Maybe this is a retaliation.

For a moment, I think of the four missing Ifrinn brothers.

Would they come back and do to the Keans what was done to them?

I quickly dismiss that idea. The Ifrinns and Keans were friends and partners. The sons would know they have no reason to hurt the Keans. In fact, I imagine that if the boys, now men, returned, Mr. Kean would take them under his wing and help them like he helped the rest of us.

“What?” I demand. “Do you know why?”

“I need to get to work. Ronan and his father have promoted me.”

I feel like I should congratulate him, but I’m a little peeved that he acts like the Keans are the sort of people someone would want to blow up or burn.

“That’s great,” I manage. Then, worried that I’m being silly, I ask, “Will you still be able to come to dinner soon?”

His shoulders relax. “I’ll need a few days to help get this situation settled, but then yes, I can come.” His thumb brushes along my lower lip, sending a delicious thrill through me. The annoyance I felt before is completely gone, replaced by a longing for him to kiss me.

He gives me a slow smile, like he knows his power over me. Luckily, he doesn’t lord it over me. He bends to me, giving me a small, but still potent, kiss.

Then I watch him walk away, his blond hair ruffled by the wind, his shoulders strong, his gait powerful. He’s sexy beyond belief and he’s all mine.