Rhett's waking hours begin with the bleary, muffled hiss of snow against the rooftop—then emptiness, then cold, as his hand fails to find his wife beside him.
His eyes open at once,
his breathing slow and steady, mingling with his son's soft snores as he faces him, a hand loosely curled at the little chin.
The covers fall to his torso as he rises, rubbing an eye with the heel of his palm, clearing the last trace of sleep.
With a slow sigh, he scans the empty room. Nothing is disturbed—
the tiny wooden wardrobe against the patched-up walls, the nightstand with Neva's Bible, her floral handkerchief folded neatly atop the notebook, and his watch.
Warmth steals into his heart at the lingering signs of her presence in their shared room.
But where might she be? He wakes recalling how he stirred when she rose near the seventh hour, fearing the morning sickness might trouble his Angel.
Yet she had been spared this morn—rising only to pray, and he had knelt beside her.
Reassured, he had slipped into sleep once more, while she stayed behind in prayer, lingering over the Word in the quiet solitude she preferred.
He reaches for his watch, fingers working at his nape to soothe the dull ache there, the ninth hour of the morning drawing on.
"Rhean," he murmurs softly, drawing the covers away from his son.
The child stirs lazily, the moue on his lips deepening. His father chuckles, playfully pinching his warm, soft cheek, sheet-creased marks bearing witness to the depth of his sleep.
"Rise and shine, my boy," he whispers, gathering the drowsy child into his arms with ease.
"Mama," the boy mumbles, rubbing his eye with a tiny fist as his father carries him toward the door.
"We'll go find where Mama's gone," he replies gently, nudging the door open with a free hand.
Rhett rubs his son's back as the child's head rests against his shoulder, tiny arms curled loosely around his neck.
"Have you seen Neva?" he asks, entering the formal room, where the smell of beeswax and burning wood lingers in the air.
Sky lifts her gaze from the iPad lying on the threadbare carpet, where she has been seated before the crackling fireplace.
"Oh, yeah," she murmurs, pushing her glasses up with a finger. "She's been out for close to half an hour.
Rhett frowns. "Did she say where she might be?"
Sky gives a shrug. "Can't think of a single one."
Rhett turns to the scrape of boots behind him. Ace steps forward, two steel mugs in hand, steam curling in lazy, dancing ribbons.
"About time it's morning, Boss?" Ace raises a brow.
Rhett steps aside without a word, letting Ace pass.
"One of you could've at least checked on her," Rhett says, his calm barely concealing his irritation, while Ace perches beside Sky with casual ease, sipping from the mug like a man on a leisurely vacation.
Sky lowers the mug, the smell of bitter smoke and cocoa drifting from the fresh coffee. Ace glances up at him.
"We're hard at it as we speak, Boss. But let's be honest—we're not exactly your wife's personal guard, are we?" A lazy grin spreads across Ace's mouth, a languid shield against the sting in his tone.
Sky narrows her gaze at Ace, who meets it with nothing but a sip from his mug.
"Don't mind him, Czar," Sky murmurs. "He just gets fussy when he hasn't slept."
"Stop covering for all their stupidity like a damn mother hen," Rhett says, turning to leave, the weight of his sleepy son settling heavier on his arms.
As he heads for their room, Ace's muffled voice drifts off the walls. "The nerve to call us useless when all he's done is sleep with his wife. Seriously… whatever happened to the old Czar we kn—"
Rhett closes the door against the echo of their voices, standing until the color seeps back into his knuckles, the hot swell of rage in his chest slackening as he loosens his hold on the cold iron knob.
He sets Rhean gently on the floor and kneels before him, meeting his gaze as the child blinks slowly in return.
"Where's Mama?" Rhean asks softly.
Rhett smiles faintly, fingers threading through his son's tousled curls. "I'm going to get her. But until we return, I want you to be good and stay right here."
Rhean nods slowly, the shadows in his gaze creeping back despite his obedience.
He rises to his full height. "I'll have Adam and his grandmother bring your food." He moves further into the room,
takes his jacket from the wardrobe, and leaves with a soft ruffle of Rhean's hair.