Page 138 of Royal Bargain

I glance toward Dariy, just briefly, gauging his reaction. He hasn’t moved. He’s too still. Too quiet.

Suspicious.

“She curls her fists into my shirt when she sleeps,” I add. “Like she’s afraid I’ll disappear.”

Papa swallows hard.

“I’ve been trying to make a life for her,” I whisper. “Trying to make a name for myself outside all this. I’m singing again. I even have a manager.”

Another Brannagan soldier slips behind a rusted container, unseen.

Just a little more time.

I catch movement from the corner of my eye—not the Russians, not the Brannagan backup sneaking into place.

Liam.

He’s shifting again, just slightly, unable to keep still. His weight bounces from one foot to the other, fingers flexing on the grip of his gun like he doesn’t know whether to hold it tighter or just use it.

He looks like he’s barely breathing.

His eyes keep darting to me, then to Dariy, then to Anatoly. Watching every movement. Waiting for something to go wrong. For one twitch in the wrong direction.

I can see the war playing out behind his eyes.

He wants to protect me. He wants to end this. He wants to trust me. He wants to act.

And the worst part is… I can’t reassure him. Not without blowing the distraction.

So I keep talking. Keep spinning the story and drawing my father’s focus in tight—because I have to be the anchor right now. I have to give Liam and his brothers the chance to do what they came here to do.

Even if it means pretending I’m not on the edge of unraveling too.

“I didn’t tell you because I was afraid you’d take her away. That you’d try to shape her into something she’s not. Like you tried to do to me.”

My eyes lock onto his.

“But I love her, Papa. More than I’ve ever loved anything.”

Something in his face cracks. Just slightly.

And I pray—God, I pray—that’s enough.

Because we’re running out of time.

I keep my voice steady, pouring every ounce of emotion into the words, praying they keep his focus locked on me.

“Lily looks like you,” I say, lying just enough to keep the story going. “When she cries, she sounds like?—”

Movement.

More now. Brannagan men slipping through the warehouse shadows, quick and quiet. They’re almost in position. One behind the crate. Another crouched behind the catwalk support. I see Lucky glance toward Liam, just the smallest nod—ready.

I can feel it—we're so close, so I keep going.

“She deserves better than this,” I whisper. “That’s why I left. That’s why I’ve been trying to build something real. Something safe. For her.”

Anatoly looks shaken, his jaw tight, eyes stormy. I almost think he might lower his weapon.