They released Killian on day four, against medical advice.
"You need at least another week of observation," the doctor insisted. "The bullet wounds are still healing. Any strenuous activity could—"
"I understand the risks. I'll be careful." Killian was already signing the discharge papers. "But I'm leaving. Today. Now."
The doctor looked at Isla. "Mrs. Archer, perhaps you can reason with him?"
"I've tried. He's impossible when his mind's made up."
"This is a mistake."
"Probably," Killian agreed. "But it's my mistake to make."
Thirty minutes later, they were in the SUV heading back to the penthouse, Luca driving, two security vehicles flanking them.
The new normal, apparently.
Isla watched the city pass by through bulletproof glass. Everything looked different now. Threatening. Every car could be Roman's people. Every pedestrian a potential assassin.
Paranoia, maybe.
Or realism in Killian's world.
"Stop," Killian said quietly.
Isla turned to him. "What?"
