Page 71 of Hero Worship

"I need air," Xander announced suddenly, heading for the balcony. The door closed behind him with careful precision that spoke of barely contained emotion.

I started to follow, but Xavier's voice stopped me. "Let him process. He needs a minute to accept that he can't protect everyone by himself anymore."

"You're remarkably calm about all this," I observed, studying him.

"One of us has to be." He shrugged. "Besides, focusing on probability helps manage the terror."

The admission caught me off guard. It was the first crack I'd seen in his carefully maintained facade.

"You're scared," I realized.

"Obviously." He turned back to his laptop. "I just watched a father die trying to save his child. Watched everything go spectacularly wrong despite careful planning. Now I'm betting Xander’s life on statistical models and human nature."

I moved closer. "Then why do it? Why put him at risk?"

"Because it’s what we do." The words came out raw, honest. "This is what Xander and me and all of us Laskins were raised to do. We stand against monsters like Roche. We step in where the law fails, and we get shit done. It’s ugly, and it’s brutal, and sometimes it makes monsters of everyone involved, but it’s fucking necessary. Xander understands that. I need you to get on board for his sake, Ash. If their head isn’t in the game, if they’ve got a single doubt…”

"I'll get him on board," I promised. "And I’ll keep him safe. Both of you."

"No." Xavier looked up, eyes sharp as surgical steel. "You'll maintain cover no matter what happens. That's the only way this works."

"You're asking a lot," I said quietly. "Asking me to watch them hurt the person I…"The person I love. I wanted to say it, but I couldn’t get that last word out. Dammit, what the fuck was wrong with me?

On the balcony, Xander's silhouette was motionless against the Paris lights. Everything about their posture spoke of contained grief, of fear they couldn't afford to show. Even now, they held themselves with the same careful precision I'd first noticed during our training, neither completely still nor fully in motion. He turned back toward us. The Paris lights caught his face, highlighting tear tracks he couldn't quite hide. My hearttwisted at the sight, but I forced myself to stay still. To let him find his own way back to us.

We had seventy-two hours to prepare. Seventy-two hours to transform ourselves into exactly what Roche wanted. To become willing sacrifices while hiding the predators beneath our skin.

The game was in motion. All we could do now was play our parts and pray we were strong enough to maintain the illusion until the very end.

Even if that end meant watching beauty become death.

I couldn't sleep. Theornate ceiling of our hotel suite swam above me, patterns shifting in the dim light while my BPD brain raced through every possible worst-case scenario. Ash's solid warmth beside me should have been comforting, but even his steady presence couldn't quiet the chaos in my head. The weight of our failed mission, of Viktor's blood on marble floors, of everything still to come, pressed down until I could barely breathe.

Xavier's quiet breathing from the couch served as a constant reminder of what we were about to risk. He wouldn’t even be here if I’d been able to handle everything. He’d only come toParis because I'd failed at maintaining my cover, just like I failed at everything else.

Ash's fingers traced idle patterns on my hip, just above the lace edge of my panties, grounding me before I could spiral completely. Even half asleep, he knew exactly when I needed anchoring.

A soft buzz from his phone made us both tense. Nikolai's name glowed in the darkness like an accusation.

"Don't," I whispered, catching Ash's hand before he could reach for it. "Whatever fresh hell he's bringing can wait until morning."

But we both knew it couldn't. The Russians weren't known for their patience, especially when their carefully laid plans went sideways. And tonight's clusterfuck definitely qualified as sideways.

Ash pulled me closer, burying his face in my hair. His stubble scraped against my scalp, the slight sting a reminder that this was real. That at least for now, I was exactly where I belonged.

"When this is over," he murmured against my temple, "we're taking a vacation. Somewhere quiet. Just us."

I couldn't help the soft laugh that escaped me. "Somewhere quiet? You'd be bored in an hour."

"Try me." His fingers found that spot behind my ear that always made me shiver. "Might surprise you."

"Mmm." I pressed closer, tangling my legs with his. "Tell me more about this hypothetical vacation that's definitely not you trying to distract me."

"Private beach." His lips brushed my neck, making my breath catch. "No phones. No missions. Just you in a tiny swimsuit that covers as little as possible, showing off all those beautiful bruises."

"Careful." I tilted my head to give him better access. "Your possessive is showing again."

"Good." His teeth grazed my pulse point.

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