The days following the attack were tense. Tillman's people worked around the clock to repair the damage and strengthen security, while he personally oversaw plans to deal with Victor Reyes. I watched him operate, saw the cold efficiency with which he dismantled his enemy's operations piece by piece, and understood why people feared him.
But with me, he was different. Gentler, more open, like I'd unlocked some part of him he'd kept buried for years. We didn't talk about what we were to each other, didn't put labels on it, but everyone in the compound understood that I was under his protection in a way that went beyond simple security.
Nina found me in the library five days after the attack, her expression troubled. "We need to talk."
I closed the book I'd been pretending to read. "About what?"
"About the fact that you're not safe here anymore." She sat down across from me, keeping her voice low. "Victor's attack failed, but it proved a point. People know about you now, know that Tillman cares about you. That makes you a target for anyone who wants to hurt him."
"So what are you saying? I should leave?"
"I'm saying you need to understand what you're getting into. Tillman's world is dangerous, Helen. People die, people get hurt, and the ones closest to him are always in the crosshairs. If you stay, this won't be the last time someone tries to use you against him."
I thought about running, about asking Tillman to let me go somewhere far away where no one knew who I was. But the thought of leaving him created an actual physical ache in my chest.
"I can't leave," I said quietly.
Nina nodded like she'd expected that answer. "Then you need to learn how to protect yourself. Tillman can't be with you every second, and you can't rely on bodyguards forever. You need to be able to fight back."
"I don't know how to fight."
"So learn." Nina's expression was intense. "I can teach you basic self-defense, how to handle a weapon, how to think tactically. It won't make you invincible, but it'll give you a chance if something happens."
I wanted to say no, wanted to believe that Tillman would always be there to keep me safe. But I'd spent too many years being helpless, being a victim, and I was tired of it.
"Okay," I said. "Teach me."
We started that afternoon in the compound's training facility. Nina was a patient but demanding teacher, showing me how to throw a proper punch, how to break someone's grip, where to hit to cause maximum damage. My body protested every movement, muscles I didn't know I had screaming in pain.
"Again," Nina said for the hundredth time as I tried to execute a basic defensive move.
I did it again, and again, until my arms felt like lead and sweat was pouring down my face. When Nina finally called a break, I collapsed on the mat gasping.
"You did good," she said, handing me a water bottle. "Better than I expected for a first session."
"I feel like I'm dying."
"That's normal. Come on, let's stretch out before you stiffen up."
As we stretched, I asked the question that had been nagging at me. "Why are you helping me? You work for Tillman, you're loyal to him. Wouldn't it be easier if I just left?"
Nina was quiet for a moment. "Five years ago, I was in a bad situation. Abusive relationship, no money, no way out. Tillman gave me a job, gave me a place to live, and made it clear that my ex would disappear if he came near me again. He saved my life, Helen. So yeah, I'm loyal to him. But I also know what it's like to be powerless, and I don't want that for you."
"Thank you," I said, meaning it.
"Don't thank me yet. We've got a long way to go."
Over the next two weeks, Nina and I trained every day. My body adapted slowly, building strength and muscle memory. I learned how to fall without hurting myself, how to use someone's weight against them, how to stay calm when adrenaline was flooding my system. It wasn't enough to make me a fighter, but it was enough to make me feel less helpless.
Tillman watched sometimes, standing in the doorway of the training facility with his arms crossed and an unreadable expression. I could feel his eyes on me as I worked, and it made me push harder, want to prove that I could handle his world.
One evening after training, I went to find him in his office. He was at his desk, reviewing what looked like financial reports, and didn't look up when I entered.
"You've been avoiding me," I said, closing the door behind me.
"I've been busy."
"That's not why." I walked over to his desk, refusing to be intimidated by his cold tone. "You've been pulling away ever since the attack. Why?"
He finally looked up, and the expression in his eyes made my breath catch. "Because every time I look at you, I remember how close I came to losing you. How they almost took you because of me."
"That wasn't your fault."
"Wasn't it?" He stood up, coming around the desk to tower over me. "I'm the one who kept you here, who refused to let you go. I made you a target, Helen. Everything Nina said is true. As long as you're connected to me, you'll never be safe."
"So what are you saying? You want me to leave?"
The muscle in his jaw ticked. "I'm saying you should want to leave. Any sane person would."
"Well, maybe I'm not sane." I stepped closer, tilting my head back to meet his eyes. "Maybe I'm tired of running and hiding and being afraid. Maybe I'd rather be in danger with you than safe anywhere else."
"You don't know what you're saying."
"Yes, I do." I reached up and touched his face, feeling the rough stubble under my palm. "I know exactly what I'm saying. I'm choosing this, choosing you, even knowing what it means."
Something in him broke. He pulled me hard against him and kissed me with a desperation that bordered on violence. I kissed him back just as hard, my fingers digging into his shoulders, trying to prove that I wasn't going anywhere.
When we finally broke apart, both breathing heavily, he rested his forehead against mine. "You're going to be the death of me."
"Probably," I agreed. "But what a way to go."
He actually laughed, a rare sound that made warmth spread through my chest. "Stay with me tonight."
It wasn't really a question, but I answered anyway. "Okay."
He led me through the compound to his private quarters, a section I'd never been to before. His rooms were surprisingly simple, expensive but not ostentatious, dominated by a huge bed and floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over the city.
We didn't talk much. He pulled me down onto the bed and just held me, his arms wrapped around me like he was afraid I'd disappear. I pressed my face into his chest and listened to his heartbeat, steady and strong, and felt something settle in me that had been restless for weeks.
"Tell me about her," I said quietly. "About Johanna."
I felt him tense. "Why?"
"Because she's the reason you don't trust anyone. And I need to understand."
He was silent for so long I thought he wouldn't answer. Then, slowly, he started talking.
"I met her fifteen years ago when I was building my first operation. She was smart, ruthless, ambitious. Everything I thought I wanted in a partner. We built the business together, took on rivals together, created something powerful." His voice was carefully neutral. "I trusted her completely. Loved her, or thought I did."
"What happened?"
"She was working with my enemies the entire time. Feeding them information, setting me up to be killed so they could take over everything we'd built. I found out the night before they planned to move, barely escaped with my life." His arms tightened around me. "Everyone I'd trusted, everyone who'd worked with her, they all died that night. I made sure of it."
"And Johanna?"
"Gone. Vanished before I could get to her. I spent years looking, but she disappeared completely. For all I know, she's dead." He tilted my face up to look at him. "That's why I don't trust easily, Helen. Why I shouldn't trust you. But I do, and I don't know how to stop."
"Don't stop," I whispered. "I'm not her. I won't betray you."
"You say that now."
"I'll say it every day for the rest of my life if that's what it takes for you to believe it."
He kissed me again, softer this time, almost tender. And as I fell asleep in his arms, I made a silent promise to myself that I would prove I was different, that not everyone he cared about would destroy him.
Even if it killed me.