Chapter 14
Audrey let out a long, shuddering breath. She didn't ask questions about the violence; she accepted the brutal reality of his world. She gently laid the sleeping five-year-old down on the small cot in the corner of the room, pulling a thick blanket over her. She turned back to Tristan. "Are you hurt?" she asked quietly, noticing the blood on his cuff. "It is not my blood," Tristan replied, his deep voice devoid of emotion. He closed the heavy steel door behind him, sealing them in the quiet, secure room. He walked toward her, the adrenaline of the battle slowly receding, leaving behind a raw, intense focus. He stopped inches away from her, his imposing, masculine frame completely overwhelming the small space. "You did exactly as you were instructed," Tristan noted, his dark, penetrating eyes scanning her face. "You didn't hesitate." "I told you I would protect her," Audrey whispered, her expressive brows drawing together. "I meant it." Tristan reached out, his heavily tattooed hand gently touching her cheek. The contrast between the violent killer who had just executed men in the snow and the tender man touching her face was staggering. "I know you did," Tristan murmured, his voice dropping into a low, terrifyingly intimate register. "But I realized something tonight, Audrey, while they were trying to break down my gates." Audrey’s breath hitched. She looked up into his cold, intimidating eyes, finding them burning with an intense, proprietary heat. "What did you realize?" "I realized," Tristan whispered, leaning down so his lips were mere inches from hers, "that I wasn't just fighting to protect my daughter. I was fighting to protect you."
