Page 73 of The Assassin's Captive
"This is really happening," she says.
"It is."
"My life as I knew it is over."
I move away from the door and take the chair across from her. "Your life as you knew it was never going to last. Too many people knew the truth. Tonight just forced the issue."
She looks at me with those dark eyes that seem to see more than they should. "And you? How do you feel about being stuck with me permanently?"
The question is casual, but I can hear the uncertainty underneath it. She's asking if I resent the assignment, if I see her as a burden I've been saddled with against my will.
"I've had worse assignments," I tell her.
She laughs, and the sound surprises me. It's the first time I've heard her laugh since the shooting, maybe the first time all night.
"High praise from someone like you."
"Someone like me?"
"A professional killer who probably considers babysitting duty beneath his skill set."
She's not wrong. A month ago, I would've considered this assignment exactly that—babysitting duty for someone too important to kill but too dangerous to leave unprotected. But that was before I got to know her. Before I saw how she handles pressure, how she refuses to break even when everything around her is falling apart.
"You're not babysitting duty," I tell her.
"No?"
"No. You're…" I pause, searching for the right words. "You're the most dangerous person I've ever been assigned to protect."
Her eyebrows rise. "Dangerous how?"
"You make people want to be better than they are."
The admission comes out before I can stop it, and I immediately regret the words. Too honest. Too revealing. But Serena doesn't laugh or dismiss what I've said. Instead, she leans forward slightly, studying my face.
"Is that what I do to you?"
I could deflect it, change the subject, retreat behind the professional distance I've maintained for most of my adult life. Instead, I find myself answering truthfully.
"Yes."
She nods slowly, as if she's processing something complex. "Good."
"Good?"
"Because you make me want to be braver than I am."
Serena Barone is one of the bravest people I've ever met. She's faced down killers, challenged crime bosses, and refused to surrender her principles even when surrender would have been easier. The idea that she needs to be braver seems impossible.
"You're already brave."
"No," she says. "I'm careful. I'm controlled. I minimize risk and plan for every contingency. That's not the same thing as brave."
"What's the difference?"
"Brave people take chances on things they're afraid of." She meets my eyes. "Even when they don't know how it will end."
We're talking about more than courage now, more than professional obligations or family loyalty. We're talking about the thing that's been building between us for weeks—theconnection neither of us has acknowledged, the pull that gets stronger every time we're in the same room.
