“You brought my dinner yesterday.”

The private west wing of the mansion was a stark contrast to the opulent, echoing dining hall. The corridors here were lined with plush carpets and warm, muted lighting, designed specifically to be a sanctuary. Blaine walked silently down the hall, carrying Cody effortlessly in his powerful arms. Annelise walked a half-step behind him, her black maid dress swishing softly. Heavy, armed guards nodded respectfully as they passed, their eyes widening slightly as they registered the missing boy's safe return.

They reached the heavy oak door of Cody’s nursery. Blaine pushed it open, stepping into the room bathed in the soft glow of a bedside lamp. He gently lowered Cody onto the large bed, careful not to jostle the exhausted boy.

"Will you draw a warm bath for him, Annelise?" Blaine asked softly, looking over his shoulder.

"Yes, Mr. Rourke," Annelise said, moving quickly toward the adjoining bathroom.

While the water ran, Blaine remained by the bed. He removed his tailored suit jacket, draping it over a chair, then unbuttoned his crisp white shirt at the collar, revealing the artistic neck tattoo. He knelt beside the bed, holding Cody’s small hand, murmuring quiet assurances to the child who had spent three weeks in terror.

Twenty minutes later, Cody was scrubbed clean, dressed in fresh, warm cotton pajamas, and tucked securely beneath thick comforters. The boy was asleep almost instantly, utterly exhausted by the ordeal.

Annelise stood near the door, her hands folded neatly over her white apron. She had discarded the dirty towels and wiped the soot from her own face. She watched the mafia boss—a man feared across the entire eastern seaboard—gently stroke his son’s hair with a tenderness that defied his ruthless reputation.

Blaine stood up slowly, the tension returning to his broad shoulders. He turned and walked over to Annelise, stopping just a few feet away. His cold, perceptive eyes searched her softly heart-shaped face.

"How did you know he was in the old cellar?" Blaine asked, his deep voice a low rumble in the quiet nursery.

"I was organizing the dry goods in the deep pantry, sir," Annelise answered, her voice barely a whisper. "There is an old air vent near the floor. I heard a sound. It was very faint, but... it sounded like crying. I knew Sabrina had forbidden the staff from going into the sub-basement corridors, but I had to look. I took the master keys from the security desk when the guard stepped away."

"Did you consider the danger you were putting yourself in by crossing her?" Blaine asked, the extremely short stubble on his jaw catching the lamplight.

"I only considered that a little boy was crying in the dark," Annelise said, her expressive brows drawing together. "I couldn't walk away from that."

"Do you realize you are the only reason he is alive today?" Blaine asked, his gaze intensifying, a dark, terrifying warmth bleeding into his cold eyes.

"I just did what anyone should have done," Annelise breathed, her heart fluttering wildly at his proximity.

"Have you met many people in my world who do what they should, Annelise?" Blaine inquired. He reached out, his refined, tattooed hand hovering for a fraction of a second before he gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

The touch sent a jolt of electricity straight to her core. Annelise swallowed hard, looking up at his angular face. The danger surrounding them was absolute, but the safety she felt in his presence was undeniable.

Before Blaine could offer another question, the heavy, encrypted radio clipped to his belt crackled to life with sudden, violent static.

"Boss?" Marcus's gruff voice called out over the comms. "We have a major situation at the front gates."

Blaine did not flinch. He slowly pulled his hand away from Annelise’s face, his posture instantly shifting back into that of a wartime commander.

"Are the Vale convoys already here, Marcus?" Blaine asked into the radio.

"Yes, sir," Marcus reported, his voice tight with tension. "It's Victor Vale himself. He has thirty heavily armed men with him. He is demanding you hand over his daughter immediately, or they breach the walls."

Annelise gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. The war had arrived faster than anyone anticipated.

"Will you wait here and lock the door behind me?" Blaine asked, looking back at Annelise.