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Leonid
—
Frost-laden shock clings to my heart as Monty parks the car on the tarmac.
An early spring fog casts a haze over the runway of Anchorage’s airport, the last vestiges of the blizzard lingering in dirty slush along the edges of the pavement.
The weather might have cleared, but the storm still rages inside me, its blinding flurries of resentment and distrust obscuring the path forward, numbing my senses, and leaving only a sharp, cold determination to protect Frankie from this new danger. Whatever the fuck it is.
She sits in the back seat, pressed tightly against Kody, her face ashen, her voice seemingly frozen in her throat. She barely breathes, her shoulders rigid and lips bloodless.
I hate seeing her like this, the fearless spark she usually exudes snuffed out, replaced by a dull, haunted look.
Kody’s arm wraps around her, holding her close to his side, his expression dark and brooding.
None of us have spoken since we left the lawyer’s office, the gravity of Denver’s revelations suffocating the car.
Beside me, Monty stares at his private jet through the windshield.
I don’t know the man, but I bet his hand doesn’t normally tremble like that.
He clenches it and reaches for the door handle, his face glowing with the shiner I gave him at the hospital.
“You said my reappearance made national news,” Frankie whispers. “But I haven’t seen a reporter since we left the hospital.”
“I took care of it.”
“How?”
“My public relations team is providing controlled, regular updates and exclusives, eliminating the need for invasive reporting. It only buys us a day or two. Long enough to fly to Sitka. Once we’re on the island, we’ll be out of the public eye, secluded, safe, and impossible to access. I also have security measures in place here and when we land to stop anyone trying to approach us.” He opens the door. “I’ll check on the plane. Stay here.”
He exits the car like he can’t escape our unbreathable air fast enough.
The door clicks shut as he strides away, a dark silhouette against the overcast sky.
I may not grasp the full scope of his influence over the media, but I understand the outcome. He’s shielding Frankie, protecting her from public scrutiny.
It’s an uncomfortable reminder of the power he wields.
Montgomery Strakh.
My uncle.
Kody’s half-brother.
Wolf’s father.
Frankie’s husband.
The part that I’m really struggling to wrap my head around is that Kody, the guy who’s been my little brother my entire life, is actually my uncle.
And we share the same woman.
Shit doesn’t get more tangled than that.
I don’t trust Monty, and he shouldn’t trust me. Yet the dumbass left the car running.
