Page 87 of Royal Bargain

I punch in the code at the door and shove it open. “Inside. Now.”

Ana brushes past me without a word, but her body’s taut, every step stiff with barely contained fury. I lock up behind us, draw the shades, check the side window. The place is clean. Alarm system armed. No signs of tampering.

Still not enough.

I move through the living room, double-checking the cameras and backup battery packs, already planning to run another sweep in fifteen. That’s when I hear it—her footsteps, deliberate and fast, coming right for me.

I turn just as Ana squares up, fire in her eyes.

“No,” she says, firm and shaking. “Before you go full bodyguard-mode on me again, you need to stop and actually listen.”

“Ana—”

“No!” Her voice cuts through the space like a whipcrack. “You’re so convinced this was the Russians. But I don’t think it was them.”

I blink, stunned for half a second. “What the hell are you talking about?”

She takes a step closer, unflinching. “You know my family, Liam. If my father wanted me dead, I’d be dead. If Dariy wanted to make a statement, he wouldn’t do it in front of that many cameras. This—this was messy. Reckless. It felt… off. Like it was meant to scare, not kill.”

I exhale, rubbing a hand down my face. “You’re saying this wasn’t a hit.”

“I’m saying it wasn’t a Russian hit.”

I scoff, turning away. “You’re giving them too much credit.”

“I’m giving them accurate credit,” she fires back. “You just don’t like the idea that your perfect little theory might be wrong.”

I whirl back toward her, frustration boiling over. “No, what I don’t like is watching you walk straight into danger with your eyes wide open, thinking you’re smarter than everyone else!”

Her jaw tightens.

I push forward anyway, too angry to stop. “You don’t see how people use you, Ana. You don’t pick up on it fast enough. You trust too easily—especially when someone tells you exactly what you want to hear.”

She goes still. I should stop.

But the words are already out before I can catch them.

“You miss things because of your autism. You see what you want to see and you?—”

Her eyes flash, and I freeze.

Silence slices between us.

The look she gives me isn’t just hurt—it’s betrayal. Pure and sharp.

And I feel it, like claws raking down my throat. I went too far.

Way too far.

She doesn’t even raise her voice.

“Oh, that’s how it is?” she says, low and cutting. “You think I’m naive because of how my brain works? Like I can’t tell when someone’s lying to me—or using me? Even when it’s you?”

“Ana,” I say, regret already choking me, “I didn’t mean?—”

“Yes, you did.”

She backs up like I hit her.