Page 85 of Sanctuary

“We haven’t forgotten what you did, traitor. Matheson had friends. Your new family won’t protect you forever.”

My fingers tightened around the phone as I stared at the screen, the kitchen conversation fading to white noise around me. This wasn’t the first threat I’d received in the months since Matheson’s death. Twice before, similar messages had arrived—each one a reminder that his organization hadn’t died with him. But never so close to the family home.

“Mia?” Wren’s voice broke through my spiraling thoughts. “What’s Lily planning to do after the ceremony? I wanted to make sure we have time for that dinner reservation.”

I looked up, forcing my expression to remain neutral despite the ice spreading through my veins. “Sorry, what?”

“Lily,” Wren repeated, her brow furrowing slightly. “After the ceremony. Does she have plans?”

“Oh, right,” I managed, sliding my phone face-down onto the counter. “She mentioned wanting to see the lake at sunset. Maybe a walk if the weather holds.”

Wren nodded, turning back to her pancakes. “Perfect. I’ll tell the restaurant we’ll be there around eight, then.”

Connor’s hand settled on my lower back, his touch gentle but questioning. He’d noticed my distraction, the subtle tension that had crept into my shoulders. I gave him a small smile that didn’t reach my eyes, one he knew was forced.

“I should start getting ready,” I said, standing abruptly. “It takes me longer than you’d think to look presentable for ancient Irish ceremonies.”

“You have hours yet,” Declan pointed out, checking his watch.

“I know, but...” I gestured vaguely at myself. “This doesn’t happen by accident. I’ll meet you all at the club.”

Before I could escape the kitchen, Connor caught up with me in the hallway, gently pulling me into the small study off the main living area. He closed the door behind us, his eyes searching mine.

“What was it?” he asked quietly. “Another message?”

I hesitated, then nodded, handing him my phone. His jaw tightened as he read the text, a muscle working in his cheek.

“We should tell Declan,” he said, his voice low. “Increase security for the ceremony.”

“No,” I replied firmly. “This is your day, Connor. I won’t let them ruin it with their threats.”

He set the phone down, taking my hands in his. “Your safety is more important than any ceremony.”

“I know,” I said, squeezing his fingers. “But I also know these people. They’re trying to provoke me, to make me afraid. To make me feel like I don’t belong here.” I forced a smile. “I’m not giving them that satisfaction.”

Connor didn’t look convinced, but he nodded. “At least tell Winters. Her team can—”

“I will,” I promised. “Right after I get ready.”

Back in our bedroom, I closed the door and leaned against it, the facade of composure crumbling. This wasn’t just another threat—the photograph proved they were here, watching, close enough to strike. Close enough to hurt not just me, but everyone I loved.

I moved to the window, scanning the tree line with practiced eyes. They could be out there now, watching this very room. My gaze shifted to the dresser where Connor had laid out my outfit for the ceremony—an elegant green dress that matched his kilt, a nod to my new place in the clan.

My new place. The thought struck a chord of bitter irony. I had fought so hard for this life, this family, this sense of belonging. But not if my presence was the very thing that put them in danger.

I picked up my phone, my finger hovering over Winters’ contact. But instead of calling her, I found myself opening a different app—the travel booking site I’d used during my operative days, with its anonymous payment options and last-minute availability.

The decision crystallized with sudden clarity. I couldn’t be here. Not today. Not when whoever sent that threat might be waiting for exactly this gathering—all the MacGallan’s in one place, celebrating, defenceless.

My hands moved swiftly, efficiently, packing only essentials into a small bag. The rational part of my brain argued that I was overreacting, that we could increase security, that running wasn’t the answer. But the operative in me—the part trained to assess threats and make split-second decisions—knew better.

As long as I remained with the family, the threats would never stop. Matheson’s allies would keep coming, using my new attachments as leverage, as targets. The only way to protect them was to remove myself from the equation.

I scribbled a note, tears blurring my vision as I struggled to find the right words. How do you explain to the person you love that leaving is the only way to keep them safe?

Connor,

By the time you read this, I’ll be gone. The threat this morning wasn’t random. They’re watching the house, watching me, and they’ll be watching the ceremony. I can’t risk them hurting you or anyone else because of me.

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