The message from Reynolds hung over the villa like a dark cloud.
Daddy hadn’t slept. I could tell from the shadows under his eyes and the way he paced the bedroom like a caged lion. I sat on the edge of the bed, watching him, my hands protectively over my belly. The baby had been restless all night, as if sensing the tension in the air.
“They’re really coming back,” I whispered, more to myself than to him.
Daddy stopped pacing and turned to me. His expression was a storm fear, rage, and fierce determination all mixed together.
“Yes,” he said, voice low. “Harrington doesn’t know when to stop. And Reynolds… that traitor still thinks he can play hero.”
He crossed the room and knelt in front of me, taking my hands in his. His grip was firm, almost desperate.
“I won’t let them take you,”
