Page 154 of Royal Bargain

He’s jumpy. Wound tight. I’ve caught him at the window more times than I can count, just staring like he’s waiting for something to show up out of the dark. His phone’s always going off. Sometimes he ignores it. Sometimes he grabs his coat and goes without a word, and I don’t ask. I already know it’s bad news.

He won’t say it, but he’s fraying at the edges.

And the truth is… I am too.

We’ve been cooped up in this apartment for weeks. Waiting. Hiding. Holding it together with duct tape and deep breaths. Every day, I feel a little more restless, a little more like I’m just waiting for the next blow to land.

We can’t keep going like this. He knows it. I know it. So I make a call.

That evening, after Lily’s bath, I find him on the couch, half-asleep with her curled on his chest. She’s out cold, face smushed into his shirt, little fist tangled in the fabric. He’s got one hand on her back, the other limp at his side. He looks exhausted. They both do.

I sit next to him and lean my head on his shoulder. “You’re not sleeping,” I say quietly.

He doesn't answer right away, just keeps rubbing slow circles on Lily’s back like he’s afraid to stop.

“I can’t,” he says after a moment. “Every time I close my eyes, I feel like I’m gonna miss something.”

“You won’t,” I whisper. “But you will if you burn out.”

He sighs—deep and heavy, like he’s been holding it in too long.

“I was thinking,” I say, keeping my voice soft. “Maybe we should go away for a bit.”

His brow lifts. “Go where?”

“Away. Not forever. Just long enough to breathe.”

He shifts, adjusting Lily without waking her. “Ana, we’ve got too much going on. What if something happens while we’re gone?”

I shake my head. “Then it’ll happen. Whether we’re here or not. We’re not stopping any of it. We’re just making ourselves sick trying.”

He doesn’t answer, but I can see the muscle in his jaw twitch. He’s thinking. Spinning.

I take his hand. “My dad offered me a place. Out in the country. No guards. No gates. Just a quiet house he inherited from his father. He said it’s safe.”

Liam goes still. “You want to stay at one of his places?”

“It’s not like that. It’s not Bratva-connected. It’s just old and tucked away. You can sweep the place when we get there. Hell, burn it down if it makes you feel better.”

That earns a faint smile. “Don’t tempt me.”

I nudge his shoulder. “I’m serious. I think we need this. Lily needs this.”

He looks down at her again, the tiniest little snore puffing against his chest.

“I’m scared,” he admits, voice low.

“I know,” I say. “Me too.”

He finally meets my eyes, and after a beat, he nods. “Okay. Let’s go.”

We headout just after sunrise, two days later.

Lily’s fussy at first—overtired, probably picking up on our stress—but once we hit the highway and the sun starts creeping up, she settles. I sit in the backseat with her, holding her tiny hand while Liam drives. He doesn’t say much, but his grip on the wheel eases the farther we get from the city.

It’s quiet in the car. No music. Just the hum of the road and Lily’s soft breathing.

Little by little, things start to shift. The buildings give way to trees. Traffic thins out. The sky gets bigger. It’s like we’re peeling away layers, one at a time.