Page 114 of Single Mom's Daddies
“I have to help her.” I nod toward Mrs. Popovich, who’s trying to pull herself upright.
She waves me off. “I’m fine. I’ve got another leg.”
“You’re bleeding all over the floor!”
“And you’re wasting time arguing with me. Go.”
Dr. Vlad bursts in next—hair tousled, coat flapping like a cape. He drops to his knees beside her. “I’ve got her.”
I stand. My hands are shaking. My whole body, really. I pocket the pink pistol and unzip the bag, grabbing handfuls of zip ties as Nik and I move together to bind the invaders.
This…it doesn’t feel real. None of it. Not the guns. Not the blood. Not the fragile peace. Not the sirens, signifying help.
The battle’s over. I guess now, we clean it up.
Nik and I move fast. There’s no time to think, just motion—step, crouch, twist, tie. We work in tandem, wrists to backs, zip ties locking into place with sharp, plastic clicks. Guards drag more of the attackers into the sitting room, most of them zip-tied before they get here. The floor is slowly littered with disarmed weapons and groaning bodies, some still trying to crawl away, others slumped in defeat.
The sirens get louder. Sharp and urgent.
“You believe this?” Nik mutters under his breath. “I thought if the feds ever came here, it’d be with tanks, not help.”
“Ruger made it happen?” I ask, yanking a tie tight around a man’s wrists.
He nods once. “Guess the bastard meant it when he said he’d help.”
Roman’s voice echoes again from the front of the house. “Clear the path! I want eyes on every corner!”
I can just barely see him through the broken archway, still holding Joe like a trophy. Blood stains his sleeve. His arm’s trembling with the weight of it, but his grip doesn’t falter.
Joe groans, face split open, and tries to say something. Roman slams him against the wall instead. The silence that follows is loud.
Victor appears a moment later, breathing hard, blood streaked down his neck. More sirens. More boots approaching. And then a line of unmarked vehicles rolls to a stop outside the main gates. Everything is a blur of motion, and my brain is struggling to keep up.
Roman stands in the threshold like some old-world warlord carved from marble. “I never thought I’d open my doors to the feds.”
Ruger steps up beside him, limping slightly but standing tall. “Never say never.” He raises a hand, and agents flood the entry, weapons lowered, tactical vests snapping as they spread through the house. Ruger barks instructions. “Secure the perimeter. Medical team to the inner hall. No one leaves without clearance.”
One of the agents pauses when he sees me holding zip ties and a gun. He starts to say something, but Roman cuts him off. “She’s with us.”
With us.
I can’t explain why that makes my throat tighten, but it does. It’s done. All of this is done. It’s over. For real.
Ivy.
I blink, catching Nik’s eye. “I have to?—”
Nik nods. “Go.”
I cross the gallery—burned, shattered, streaked with footprints and blood. Past the conservatory. Past the corridor where I shot a man. Past the woman I was an hour ago.
I reach the panic room. The code panel is still locked, glowing green. Melanie opens it before I can even try to guess the first digit. Ivy is already on her feet. “Mama!”
I fall to my knees just in time to catch her. She’s whole. Warm. Safe.
Mila wraps her arms around both of us. Alex climbs into the tangle next, hugging me so tight I nearly fall backward.
Melanie smiles, tired. “I made it a game. They think we were playing spy hideout.”
