Page 114 of Playing with Fire

For a moment, I considered continuing past him. Then I remembered his expression when he'd confessed earlier, the subtle signs I'd recognized from years of hunting those who had nothing left to lose. The same emptiness I'd seen in targets right before they chose a permanent exit.

"Maxime?"

He looked up slowly, eyes vacant. "Come to gloat?"

"No." I studied him clinically. "You'll remain at Lucky Losers."

Something flickered in his eyes, a spark in the emptiness. "What?"

"The organization can't function without you. Algerone knows that. I know that."

"He told me to get out," Maxime said, voice hollow.

"From his hospital room," I clarified. "Not from the company. Not from his life."

His hands trembled slightly. "You don't understand what I've lost."

"I understand more than you think." I paused, choosing my words carefully. "He'll need time. But thirty-two years creates bonds that don't break easily."

Maxime looked away, his profile sharp in the harsh hospital lighting. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because Lucky Losers needs you alive." I kept my voice cold, pragmatic. "And because I recognize when someone's contemplating all the ways they might not make it through the night." He didn't deny it, which confirmed my suspicion. "I'll assign someone to watch you. Not for your benefit, but for the organization's. And for Algerone." I turned to leave, then stopped. "One more thing. Your betrayal might be unforgivable. But Algerone will try anyway. Eventually." I let my voice drop to that register that made even my brothers uneasy. "Earn it. Or answer to me."

Without waiting for his response, I continued down the corridor.

When I reached my room, Xander was waiting. "Maxime?"

"Destroyed," I said simply. "Algerone knows everything."

Satisfaction spread across his face, darkly beautiful in its intensity. "Good. Did you—"

"Later," I cut him off. "Everything is under control. For now."

Inside the room, Leo straightened immediately, relief on his face as he saw me.

Xion slipped down from the windowsill and patted my shoulder on his way out. “Me and Xander are going down to the cafeteria. We’ll be back in an hour.”

I nodded.

"How did it go?" Leo asked quietly.

"It's done," I said.

His hand found mine, fingers twining together with the familiarity that still surprised me after so short a time. The trust in his eyes, the way he fit against me when I sat beside him, these things had become essential in ways I couldn't fully articulate.

"I've made arrangements for discharge papers in the morning," Leo said, ever practical. "We'll need somewhere secure to recover."

I nodded, already calculating next steps, contingencies, safe houses. But beneath the tactical planning, beneath the cold assessment of our situation, something else stirred. Something that had taken root that night in the bedroom after the fire, that had grown stronger with each touch, each surrender, each time Leo had proven himself not just mine to possess but mine to protect.

I pressed my lips against his temple, breathing in the scent of antiseptic and smoke that couldn't quite mask what was essentially him. What came next would require careful planning, calculated risks, the precision I brought to every hunt.

But for now, in this moment between breaths, there was only Leo. Only us. Only the certainty that whatever future we carved from the ashes of Phoenix's vengeance, we would face it together.

Thenewtrailersmelledof fresh paint and recently installed carpet, a clean slate without memories or belongings from our previous homes. Smaller than my old place, just one bedroom with an open living area and kitchen, but after two weeks of recovery in makeshift medical quarters, it felt like sanctuary.

I sat at the tiny kitchen table, reviewing the details of the report Xavier had requested from Lucky Losers. The manila folder contained photographs, DNA analysis results, and a detailed autopsy confirming what we already knew: Felix Burns was dead. His body had been recovered from the ruins of the mill, identified through multiple methods, no margin for error. I'd verified the chain of custody myself, tracing the samples from recovery to testing with the precision I'd learned during my Army days.

"Is it enough?" Xavier asked from the doorway, steam rising from the coffee mug in his hand.

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