The mansion was silent at 2:47 AM.
Liam's eyes snapped open in the dark, wide awake, no sleepiness at all. He'd been trained to wake like this—ready, alert, already assessing threats.
Next to him, Ayla was sleeping soundly, curled up on her side, one hand tucked under her pillow. Her breathing was soft and steady, and her face looked calm in a way it hardly ever did during the day.
He took a moment to watch her, soaking in the shape of her cheek and how her dark curls spilled across the white pillowcase.
I'm sorry.
The thought popped up almost reflexively, a programmed guilt for the person he was about to leave behind.
No. Not just a person. Ayla was so much more than that.
He pushed the thought away. Feelings had no place in his job.
Moving quietly, Liam slipped out of bed. The mattress stayed quiet, and the sheets didn't rustle. He was as silent as a ghost.
