Page 31 of The Silent Hour

I PADDED INTO THE KITCHEN, my hair still damp from the shower we hadn't exactly used for its intended purpose.

Julia moved around the space like it was second nature, messy bun piled on top of her head, another one of my T-shirts hanging off one shoulder. I'd seen her dressed in gowns and tailored outfits for galas. I'd watched her command stages beneath brilliant lights, a violin tucked beneath her chin and entire rooms hanging on every note she played.

This was the version of her I wanted seared into my memory. Mine. Happy. Safe from the world outside these walls. She stood at the stove flipping pancakes as was the norm, when I came up behind her, slipping my arms around her waist and brushing my mouth against the back of her neck.

She laughed softly, the sound low and easy as she leaned into me. "Hungry?"

"Always," I murmured, letting my teeth graze her exposed shoulder before releasing her and reaching for the coffee mugs.

The girls' backpacks were lined neatly along the counter, waiting for school. Sunlight poured through the wall of glass facing the ocean, spilling across the marble countertops and the plates Julia had already set out.

We settled at the table soon after, plates stacked with pancakes and fruit between us, my coffee strong enough to keep me from losing my edge. For a moment, I let myself watch her. The way her fingers curved around her fork. The little crease between her brows as she read something on her phone. The laugh that escaped her before she set it aside.

Normal, quiet, and ours.

But the real world never stayed away for long.

She glanced at me, hazel eyes curious. "So, how did it go yesterday? The Ruiz meeting?"

I exhaled slowly and set my mug down. "Ugly. This is the kind of case where every detail feels coated in oil." I shook my head. "They've hit him with RICO, trafficking, laundering. Hell, if they can tie the bodies to him, murder too. For now, he's out on bond, but it's a tight leash. One wrong step and the feds bury him."

She knew better than to ask whether he was innocent. That was never the question in my line of work.

"Will you have to travel?"

"Eventually, it might come to that," I admitted. "For now, we're building the walls around him here."

Her lips pressed together, a flicker of worry sparking in her eyes before she tucked it away. That was the part I hated. Julia wasn't naive. She'd been raised with enough awareness of the world to understand exactly what men like the Ruiz were capable of. Her parents had made damn sure their daughter knew darkness existed and knew enough to protect herself from it.

Somewhere along the way, I'd stopped associating any of that darkness with her. Maybe because this was the Julia I saw every day now. Bare feet against marble. Pancakes on the stove. Backpacks lined up for school. Paint beneath her fingernails some afternoons and a book in her hands on others.

Happy.

I wanted to keep her that way. Whatever ugliness waited outside our gates belonged out there. She'd already spent enough of her life knowing men worse than me existed. I had the means to make sure she never needed to dirty herself with any of it herself.

Her hand slipped across the table and covered mine. Small. Soft. "Be careful."

I turned my palm beneath hers and threaded our fingers together. "I always am." I brought her hand to my mouth and kissed her knuckles, letting my lips linger there as I held her gaze.

She didn't need me to say more, but I said it anyway. "And when I'm not, it's you and our girls I'm thinking of."

Her lips curved into a faint smile, though something quieter remained behind it. An understanding that had always existed between us. We finished breakfast with lighter conversation, laughing as we caught up on everything that had nothing to do with work.

The clink of silverware. Cooling coffee. The distant hush of the ocean beyond the glass. Then the girls' alarm went off upstairs, followed not long after by their sleepy voices drifting faintly through the house.

We had their routine down to a science by now.

Clothes laid out the night before. Lights out by nine. In the morning, they knew to get up, make their beds, get dressed, and come downstairs for breakfast. Julia pushed back from the table and stood. When I started to do the same, she immediately waved me off.

"Sit down and stay out of my way," she warned, amusement dancing in her voice.

I grinned and raised my hands in surrender when she took the plate from me. "Yes, ma'am."

I sat back down like she'd ordered and watched her move around the kitchen. I'd gone toe-to-toe with killers. Liars. Men who could buy and sell this city ten times over. None of them had ever undone me the way this woman did, barefoot in our kitchen, carrying my name, and raising our children.

I knew what the rest of the world saw when they looked at me. Julia had always seen the man beneath it. Maybe that was why I'd become so obsessed with preserving this version of our life. Why I'd built walls, gates, cameras, accounts, safeguards, and contingencies around everything that belonged to us. I wanted her and our girls protected from every ugly thing I could keep beyond those gates.

I wanted this.