Page 55 of The Marriage Debt

His jaw tightens. “You think it was inside?”

“I know it was.” I meet his eyes. “Find out who opened the perimeter.”

Rafe nods once and disappears down the hall.

I stay where I am, blood dripping onto the tile as the house falls quiet again, but I know it won’t stay that way. Now is when I put an end to this once and for all.

27

LILA

Isit on the floor of the panic room with Lev curled in my lap, his head tucked under my chin. My arms are wrapped around him like I can shield him from anything—like holding him tightly enough might keep the world outside from getting in.

The door sealed shut twenty minutes ago, but my heart’s still racing like I hear gunfire in the walls. I can’t tell if it’s real or imagined. I listen for every sound. Every footstep. Every breath.

Lev shifts a little. “Is Mateo okay?” he whispers.

I don’t answer right away. My throat is too tight.

He looks up at me with those wide, honest eyes, waiting. He doesn’t cry, just stares like I’ll know something he doesn’t. I wish I did. I want to lie to him. I want to tell him yes, of course, everything’s fine. Mateo’s invincible. We’re safe now.

But I don’t say anything.

I just stroke his hair and whisper, “It’s almost over.”

I hope I’m right.

The panic room is silent except for the soft hum of the backup systems. Red emergency lights glow along the walls, and I stare at them until my vision blurs. I keep counting seconds, then lose track and start again.

When the door finally hisses open, I flinch.

Rafe stands in the frame, breathing hard, his clothes streaked with blood that I know isn’t his.

“It’s over,” he says, but I don't believe him. This will never be over. Anton's enemies are going to keep coming unless Mateo kills them all.

On shaking legs, I carry Lev upstairs with his arms wrapped tight around my neck and his face pressed against my collarbone. He hasn’t said a word since the panic room. He’s awake but quiet, heavy in my arms like he’s trying to disappear into me.

The house feels wrong. Not just quiet—hollow. Like something passed through and took all the air with it.

Rafe led the way up, then peeled off, saying something about cleaning the west corridor. I don’t ask what he has to clean. I don’t want to know. If it's over, that means death, and it probably means a cover up of some kind and more violence in the future.

I turn the corner toward Mateo’s bedroom and hesitate just long enough to hear the water running in the bathroom. Not the shower. The sink. He's in the bathroom when I walk into his bedroom, and I nudge the door open with my shoulder.

Mateo’s shirtless, standing at the mirror with his side turned just enough for me to see the blood. It streaks down his ribs, dried in places, fresh in others. A small open med kit sits on the counter, half-used gauze and butterfly bandages laid out in neat rows.

He’s moving slowly, like pain’s something he can schedule for later. I don't know how bad it is, but if it were life threatening, he wouldn't be cleaning it himself. It makes me feel strangely calm. He's okay.

He meets my eyes in the mirror but doesn’t speak, and I step back into the bedroom and press Lev’s face deeper into my shoulder so he won’t see. “We’re sleeping in Mommy's bed,” I tell him softly. “Just for tonight.”

He nods against my neck as I carry him across the room and pull the blanket down with one hand and settle Lev in the center. He curls up instantly, pulling the covers over his shoulder. His thumb finds the hem of the blanket, and he rubs it between his fingers like he used to when he was smaller.

“I’m thirsty,” he mumbles.

“I’ll get you water.” I kiss the top of his head. “Just stay here, baby. I’ll be right back.” I hate leaving him after all of that, even for a second. I don’t know how Mateo expects us to go back to sleep like nothing happened. I'm wired. I won't sleep for months.

I tiptoe to the bathroom again. Mateo’s finishing the last bandage, his side patched with rough care. Blood still rims the edges. His expression doesn’t change as I enter.

“You’re bleeding through it,” I say quietly.

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