Page 14 of The Mafia's Septuplets

“Henri’s really gone,” she murmurs, more to herself than to me as her eyes droop heavily.

“Yes.”

“Those men came because of you?” It’s difficult to tell if it’s a question or a statement, but there’s certainly a note of accusation, so she must already know the answer.

The allegation hangs between us, though her tone lacks the anger I probably deserve. “Yes.”

She nods slowly, as if confirming something she already suspected. “I should hate you.”

“You probably should.”

“I guess I don’t.” She meets my gaze with surprising clarity despite the medication. “Henri told me to trust you.”

I keep my tone gentle. “Henri was a good man who didn’t always make the safest choices.”

“Maybe.” She lies back against the pillows, her eyelashes almost on her cheeks now. “He was never wrong about people though.”

I watch her drift toward sleep, struck by how young and vulnerable she looks without the armor of professional competence and the distance she usually puts on around me. I wish I were seeing this vulnerability in much different circumstances, and a pang of grief hits me as I think about not seeing Henri again.

As I turn to leave, her voice stops me at the threshold.

“Iskander?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for protecting me.” The words are almost impossible to hear from more than few feet away.

I close the door softly and stand in the hallway for several minutes, processing emotions I don’t entirely understand. Protection and possession are separated by lines thinner than most people realize, and Henri’s dying words have placed me squarely on the wrong side of that boundary.

Tomorrow, Willa will wake up and remember that her mentor is dead, she’s inherited a business she never knew was criminal, and I’m the reason Henri died protecting her. She’ll probably want to leave and return to whatever safety she can salvage from her old life. The smart thing would be to let her go.

The thought should comfort me, but instead, it sends something cold and possessive through my chest. Timur’s warning echoes in my mind about protection becoming obsession and business becoming personal.

Tonight, I’ve broken every rule I’ve ever drawn for myself. The only question now is whether I’ll have the strength to rebuild them when morning comes.