Page 48 of Playing with Fire

Misha exhaled through his nose. "If we do this, how long are we supposed to stay?"

Algerone spread his hands. "As long as necessary."

Which meant indefinitely.

Mom's fingers flexed at her sides. I could see the war going on behind her eyes. She hated being backed into a corner, hated being told what to do—especially by Algerone. But she wasn't reckless, and she wasn't stupid. She knew as well as the rest of us that we were vulnerable.

Finally, she exhaled through her nose and looked at Dad. "What do you think?"

Dad glanced at Nikita, who gave an almost imperceptible nod.

"Nikita and I will head to the Columbus safe house," Dad said, his voice firm despite the exhaustion lining his face. "We have contacts there who can help rebuild the business quietly. A temporary funeral home until we can sort this mess out." He turned to me. "The rest of you should go with Algerone. His security is better than anything we could cobble together right now, especially with Leo being targeted."

Mom looked like she wanted to argue, but the logic was sound. We needed to split up. That’d make it harder to target all of us at once.

Algerone smiled like he'd won something. "Excellent. Maxime will handle the arrangements. You'll leave within the hour."

I clenched my fists. Because no matter how nice The Sentinel sounded, it didn't change the fact that we were walking straight into Algerone's hands. And something told me that once we stepped inside, we wouldn't be leaving on our terms.

But I'd do it. For Leo. To keep him safe, I'd walk into any trap—even one set by my own father.

TheSentinelloomedaheadlike something out of a science fiction movie, all angular glass and gleaming metal against the early morning sky. We'd been driving for nearly an hour since leaving the still-smoldering remains of the funeral home. Xavier's hand rested possessively on my thigh as Maxime drove us through the third security checkpoint in fifteen minutes. The tension in the car was thick enough to choke on, with Annie staring silently out the window, her knuckles white where she gripped the door handle.

Yuri and Tatty had opted to go with Nikita instead. Nikita had insisted on it, and even offered us a place with him instead. But choosing between mafia protection and Algerone wasn't much of a choice.

The final checkpoint was manned by guards in tactical gear, their weapons visible but not pointed at us. One approached the car, bent to check Maxime's face against something on his tablet, then nodded.

"Welcome back, Mr. St. Germain," the guard said formally. "Mr. Etremont informed us to expect you and the Laskin family."

"Thank you, Phillips," Maxime replied, his tone neutral but authoritative.

"Fuck's sake," Xavier muttered under his breath as the gates opened.

Xavier's fingers drummed an erratic rhythm against my thigh. His jaw worked silently, teeth grinding audibly in the quiet car. When our eyes met, I caught something unfamiliar flickering behind his usual calculated stare—a wildness that made my stomach tighten. This wasn't the Xavier who methodically dismantled firewalls or calmly explained complex security systems. This wasn't the Xavier who'd held me as I trembled with wax-induced pleasure just days ago, his voice steady and commanding as he guided me through ecstasy.

I placed my hand over his, stilling the restless fingers. "Hey," I whispered, quiet enough that only he could hear. "I'm right here."

His hand flipped over, gripping mine with bruising intensity. I welcomed the pain. It meant he was still anchored to something. To me.

"This isn't permanent," I whispered, though I had no right to make such promises. "Just until we find Phoenix."

The gates slid open with a hydraulic hiss. Beyond them stretched a serpentine driveway lined with subtle ground lighting, winding through perfectly manicured grounds toward what could only be described as a fortress disguised as a modern mansion.

As we pulled up to the main entrance, I couldn't help but stare in awe at the defenses. Landscaping elements concealed CCTV cameras and the decorative lighting fixtures were actually motion detectors. What looked like ornamental metalwork on the balconies was ballistic shielding. Whoever designed this place had blended luxury and tactical defense with disturbing elegance.

"Home sweet fortress," Annie murmured as the car stopped. "At least the bastard has good taste."

Maxime himself led us into the building, dismissing the staff with a subtle gesture. "I'll handle Mr. Etremont's family personally," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The efficiency with which the staff dispersed spoke volumes about Maxime's authority here. This wasn't just Algerone's assistant. This was his right hand, trusted with the most precious things in Algerone's life: his children.

Xavier pulled me closer as we entered, his fingers digging into my hip. The pressure grounded me, reminding me I wasn't walking into this alone.

"The east wing has been prepared for you and Mr. Astrada," Maxime said. "Mr. Etremont was quite specific about ensuring your comfort and privacy."

Xavier's jaw tightened. "We're staying together."

Maxime's expression softened almost imperceptibly. "Of course. That's already been arranged."

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