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“No,” I grunt, pressing a hand to stop the bleeding. If the guards notice, there will be issues. More issues than I want to deal with. They’ll ask questions, search for him, and not be able to flush him out.

No. The law can’t hunt down a man like Semiyon Usayon.

But I can.

“Leave it.”

“You’re bleeding,” Art points out curtly, looking back around the corner to see what we’re dealing with. “Is it?”

“Not bad. Not deep, just superficial. But we’ll need to get out of here. She’s in the car?”

He nods, not having to check with his men. They know the rules, know this game, and Matilda is safe even if this shirt is ruined.

“Let’s go then,” I murmur, taking a deep breath to try and fight back the adrenaline.

We take the outside path to the car. The guards at the screened entrance are watching the last of the crowd leave, unaware of what happened beyond their view. My shirt sticks unpleasantly to my side.

“Everything good?” Art asks. “The statements?”

“Perfect. She knows what she’s doing.”

He nods, his eyes on the entrance and then on the car. I realize that for the first time he doesn’t look distrustful. In fact, when he slides into the car after me, his gaze goes right to Matilda. And in it is respect.

Beneath that, just an ounce of worry. He knows what this means; Semiyon has seen her. This adds another layer to the game.

“Oh my God,” Matty murmurs, moving closer and carefully pulling up the hem of my shirt.

I let her. It won’t make a difference; the bleeding has slowed. She’ll only keep worrying if I brush her off. Her fingertips brush the skin beside the shallow cut, each touch sending a fire across my body that shouldn’t be on my mind now.

When I look up, our eyes meet. Hers are furious, worried, her brow furrowed and her lips thin with anger. I want to kiss that anger out of her until she can’t think straight enough to be mad. Until she understands that I will end the world for her if I need to, whether it’s Semiyon threatening her or anyone else.

“It’s fine,” I assure her. “Superficial. I’ll have it checked, cleaned, and dressed when we get back.”

Matilda’s fingers graze my skin, sending a fire burning through me that’s brighter than the pain.

“Did he…did he say something about me, or?”

I stare into her blue eyes, considering. I could tell her. Tell her how little Semiyon cares about her. Tell her that she’s the last thing on his mind.

Tell her that I’m in love with her.

Instead, I say, “Someday, Matilda Pierce, you’ll walk this earth without worrying about your father. I promise.”

Her hand moves, wrapping around mine, around my fingers, gripping them almost like a child. Like she trusts me.

She deserves a reward for today.

And I intend to give it to her myself.

* * *

Later that night, I find Matilda in the gym. It’s enclosed in the basement of the lake house. It’s private, used most often in the early morning. I haven’t visited it much in the last few months, not when everything with Mikhail began to fall through and get tangled.

She’s moving hard and fast, working through the last of the day’s adrenaline with every punch, every breath, every drop of sweat. Her hair is pulled back, her cheeks flushed, and she looks more alive than I have ever seen her.

Watching her go at the bag stirs a primal, triumphant, enthralled need in me. My skin feels hot and prickly just looking at her body move around the bag. She’s powerful and gorgeous. Dangerous and unapologetic when I catch her eye.

I lean against the doorway and watch her for a moment.