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Chapter 4 - Safe House and Whispers

By midnight, the city was burning.

The Ashford syndicate had launched retaliatory strikes across three boroughs. Warehouses were torched, shipping lanes blocked, and two of Garrett's captains had been wounded in drive-by shootings.

In the master suite of the Hail estate, far removed from the chaos, the atmosphere was soft and quiet.

Clara slept peacefully on the giant king-sized bed, wrapped in silk sheets, a small plush bear Wesley had rushed to buy tucked under her arm.

Maeve stood at the floor-to-ceiling window, looking out over the rain-swept grounds. She had changed into a warm cashmere sweater and pants provided by the house staff, but her shoulders were still tense.

Garrett walked into the room, carrying two mugs of hot tea. He set them on the nightstand and stepped up behind Maeve, stopping just short of touching her.

"The house is secure," Garrett said softly. "There are thirty armed men on the perimeter. No one can hurt you or Clara here."

Maeve looked at his reflection in the glass. "Garrett... what have you done? You threw away peace for us. The Ashfords will never stop until you're dead."

"Let them try," Garrett said smoothly. He stepped closer, his chest lightly brushing her back, his scent of cedar and rain enveloping her. "I spent three years living in a graveyard, Maeve. I didn't care if I lived or died because I thought you gave up on us."

Maeve turned around to face him. Tears welled in her eyes as she reached up, her small hand gently resting against his sharp jaw.

"I never gave up on you, Garrett," she whispered. "Every day I looked at Clara's eyes, I saw you."

Garrett closed his eyes, leaning into her touch. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest, resting his forehead against hers.

"I am so sorry, Maeve," he choked out, his voice thick with uncharacteristic pain. "I should have searched harder. I should have known."

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"You're here now," Maeve whispered, leaning up to press her lips softly against his.

The kiss was sweet, deep, and filled with three years of unspoken grief and longing. Outside, the rain poured, but inside, the cold monster of New York found his soul once again.

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