Page 42 of His Angel

“And I almost lost her because of it.” Alexius scoffs, emptying his glass in one gulp and slamming it on the mahogany before staring me down. “I’m one lucky son of a bitch for not losing the best thing that’s ever happened to me. But, Isaia,” he tilts his head, “what if you’re not as lucky? What if all this blows up in your face, and you lose her?”

Something sharp and strong tightens around my insides. “That won’t happen.”

“You shot her best friend right in front of her. Took her away from her sick mother. How much more do you think she’ll be willing to forgive you for?”

“I won’t lose her again!” My shout rips out, hands slamming the desk, bourbon splashing.

“Andthat’sexactly why you’ll lose her.” He rises, matching my height, voice steady but cutting deep. “Your obsession with her, your need to control her is exactly why you’ll end up losing her. Don’t you get it? I’ve been where you are. Fuck, Isaia—youareme, and I’m watching you make the same mistakes I did.”

“What you see as mistakes, I see as necessary measures. We are not the same.”

He stares me down, smoke still lingering in the air, then lets out a heavy breath—half scoff, half surrender—running a hand through his hair.

“You’re right. We’re not. I pulled my shit together, barely. You’re still in it—neck-deep, blind to the edge.” His eyes soften, just a flicker, bourbon glass forgotten on the desk. “But I know that look, that burn. I felt it too. I still do. Daily, I fight the urge to give in to it, to lock Leandra away safe from the world like some sort of precious hoard and keep her to myself. It’s a constant fucking battle, one I will not lose because I love her. And true love is about trust. Not suffocation.”

“I trust her.”

“Enough to let her choose?”

The tension in the room is a taut string on the verge of snapping. By the way he studies me, searching for a reaction, he knows he struck a chord. He sees past the bullshit because he knows exactly what to look for.

A weighted silence stretches—seagulls crying outside, their long calls slicing the quiet. I sink back into the chair, rubbing the back of my neck.

“I don’t get it. You’ve been here for almost a week, having a great time like you’re on vacation. The four of us spending time together like we’re on a double date. We played fucking Monopoly, for God’s sake. The world’s most boring goddamn game ever. And now you’re in my office rattling two-hundred-and-twenty-one reasons I’m wrong.”

“Because I see it.” He glances at the wall, eyes tracing the chaos I’ve pinned up there—pictures and maps sprawling across the plaster like a goddamn war tapestry.

Shots of blurry faces from mainland streets, satellite prints of the island all stitched together with threads in red, blue, green, weaving a web of every move, every lead, every fucking breath. A photo of a New York alley hangs crooked, red string looping to a circled pier; blue ties a burner phone drop to a safehouse Maximo torched last week.

My fingers twitch, the pinned note scribbled with ‘San Francisco, 3 days,’ the next lie we’ll feed them, followed by six more dead ends we’ve got ready to go.

My mind has become a chessboard with Everly and me as the king and queen, the other pieces our allies, our enemies, the obstacles we need to overcome to be together. Every move is calculated, and every consequence is considered.

“These last few days, I’ve watched you with her,” he continues. “You’re so deep for this woman, brother. I’m worried you’ll drown. Leandra’s worried, too.”

“Leandra needs to chill.”

Alexius scoffs. “Believe me, that confrontation she had with Everly the other day was her beingchill. If she had her way, we’d be hauling your ass back home right now.”

I tut, and Alexius frowns.

“She cares for you, Isaia. Don’t act like she’s overreacting by worrying. You’d do the same if roles were reversed.”

Can’t argue that. When Alexius had her locked in a room while pregnant, I wanted to storm in there and take her as far away from him as possible. Back then, I seriously contemplated killing him. My own brother.

“I’m not blaming her for being protective,” I say, then shake my head. “But we got that all sorted. Talked it through. Leandra knows how I feel about Everly.”

“We all do.”

“So, what?” I cross my arms, voice rough but steady, tension coiling tighter. “You gonna keep busting my balls or help me?”

He steps back, grabs the bottle, pouring a fresh one. “You’re my brother. I’m with you.” Not a concession, just truth. “Not because I think you’re right. This plan’s a goddamn mess, and you know it. But because I’ve been where you’re standing. In fact, I’m still there, right fucking next to you. Heart pounding, gut twisted, ready to bleed for the women we love.” He eyes me speculatively. “The women we obsess over.”

I nod, pulling a palm down my face, tension simmering in every muscle.

“Leandra and I are leaving in the morning.” He heads to the door. “You’ve got my support. Always will. But you’re playing with fire, little brother. Keep it tight. Oh, and,” he stills, glancing at me, “you got everything we have at your disposal, except Davian.”

“What?”

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