I had no choice but to open the door. They'd break it down otherwise. It wasn't like I had a choice. There was nowhere left to run.
My hands trembled as I twisted the lock. The metal clicked too loud in the silence. Soon as I pulled the handle down, I held the knife low with one hand, the one I've grabbed from the kitchen. While holding onto Lucien, against my body with another.
The moment it opened, the Royal crest on his shoulder caught the light, against the black fabric. Gleaming like an open wound. He then pulled his mask down.
Angelo.
"Rosie," he said, his voice calm. Too calm. "I'm here to bring you home."
Home. The word stung, heavy and wrong in his mouth.
I didn't lower the knife.
Behind him, soldiers poured into the apartment, their boots thudding across the floorboards, eyes sweeping through every shadow like they expected an ambush, not a frightened woman and a baby. Rage roared through my veins.
