The emergency safehouse Ethan secured was far from the towering Wolfe estate and its painful memories. Nestled deep in the wooded outskirts of the city, the modern cabin was silent except for the sound of the twins playing quietly on the living room rug, and the occasional rustle of wind against the tall windows.
Talia stood in the kitchen, arms crossed as she watched Ethan through the reflection on the microwave door. He was shirtless, bruised, pacing with his phone pressed to his ear, barking orders, calling in favors, tracking leads. A man at war.
But this time… not just for himself. For them.
Zane's giggle broke her thoughts. She looked down to see him crawling into one of the lower cabinets, while Luna sat beside him with a crayon in her hand and a smug little smile that was all Ethan.
"Careful, Luna," she warned gently. "Don't draw on anything expensive."
"She's a Wolfe," Ethan said from the doorway, one brow raised. "She'll probably own the house she ruins."
