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Matthias

I’m lost in thought the entire car ride home. I’m worried about Margot. Furious about the Bratva. And frustrated there’s not more I can do.

Sitting tight until Bash finds something or Roman captures a Russian doesn’t cut it. I’m usually a patient man, you have to be running a company like mine, but this? This isn’t business. This is my Margot.

And with Margot in danger, patience feels like a weakness I can’t afford. I need answers. I need action. I need this threat gone.

She can sense it. I know she can.

She tried talking to me for the first ten minutes. She got one-word answers at best. Eventually she gave up, and we fell into silence.

I hate that I’m doing this to her. That I’m shutting down. But I don’t know how to turn the emotions off.

When we get home, we head upstairs .

“I’m going to take a shower,” I tell her. “Need to rinse off the day.”

She’s quiet for a second.

“Do you want to talk?” she asks, barely above a whisper.

“No, sweetheart.”

I walk into the bathroom and close the door behind me.

I feel dirty.

Not from sweat or grime, but from worry.

The kind that sticks to your skin.

Because I still don’t know what’s coming for Margot.

And that makes me feel helpless.