The attack came three days later, without warning and with brutal efficiency.
I was in the common dining area having breakfast when the first explosion rocked the building. The windows blew inward, sending glass everywhere, and people started screaming. Marcus was shouting orders immediately, his voice cutting through the chaos.
"Get to the safe rooms! Everyone move!"
But before I could even stand up, someone grabbed my arm and yanked me toward a side exit. I looked up to see Nina, her face grim.
"Come on, we need to get you out of here."
"What's happening?" I shouted over the sound of more explosions and gunfire.
"Someone's attacking the compound. Doesn't matter who right now, we just need to keep you safe."
We ran through hallways filling with smoke, Nina navigating with practiced ease even as the building shook around us. She pulled me into what looked like a service elevator and hit a button for the basement.
"Tillman has a bunker down here," she explained. "Steel-reinforced, separate air supply, can withstand pretty much anything. You'll be safe there."
The elevator descended and opened into a stark concrete hallway. Nina led me through several security doors to a large room that was already filling with people, mostly non-combat staff who'd been evacuated. She pushed me toward a corner.
"Stay here, stay quiet. I need to go help coordinate the defense."
"Nina, wait," I grabbed her arm. "Where's Tillman?"
"Fighting," she said simply. "It's what he does."
She left, and I sat down with my back against the wall, listening to the muffled sounds of battle above us. People around me were crying, praying, holding each other. I just felt numb. This was because of me, somehow I knew it. I was the weakness that had made Tillman vulnerable.
Time became meaningless in the bunker. Could have been an hour, could have been three. Finally the door opened and Marcus came in, covered in soot and blood that hopefully wasn't his.
"Status?" someone called out.
"Attack's been repelled. Multiple casualties on both sides, but the building is secure." Marcus scanned the room until his eyes found me. "Helen Tully, come with me."
I stood on shaky legs and followed him out. The compound above was a disaster zone, smoke damage everywhere, blood staining the floors, people working to treat the injured. Marcus led me through it all to Tillman's office.
Tillman was there, standing by the windows looking out at the damage. He'd changed clothes but I could see a bandage on his left arm and bruising along his jaw. When he heard us enter he turned around, and the expression on his face was terrifying.
"Out," he said to Marcus, who left immediately.
We were alone, and the air between us felt charged with something dangerous.
"Are you hurt?" Tillman asked, his voice rough.
I shook my head. "Nina got me to the bunker. I'm fine."
He crossed the room in three long strides and pulled me into his arms, holding me so tightly I could barely breathe. I felt him shaking, and I realized with shock that he'd been scared. Actually scared for me.
"Tillman," I whispered, my hands coming up to grip his shirt.
"They came for you," he said into my hair. "The entire attack was designed to get to you. They thought if they could take you, they could control me."
My worst fear confirmed. "Who?"
"Victor Reyes. Old enemy, been waiting for a chance to hit me where it would hurt most." He pulled back enough to look at my face, his hands framing my jaw. "He found out about you and decided you were my weakness."
"I am your weakness," I said.
"Yes," Tillman agreed, and there was something almost fierce in his expression. "But you're also something else, and I'm done pretending otherwise."
He kissed me. Not gentle, not tentative, but with a desperate hunger that stole my breath. His mouth claimed mine like he was trying to prove something, and I kissed him back with equal desperation, my hands fisting in his shirt.
When we finally broke apart, both breathing hard, he rested his forehead against mine. "I've spent fifteen years making sure I didn't need anyone, that I couldn't be hurt by caring. And then you stumbled into my life and destroyed all of that in less than two weeks."
"I'm sorry," I whispered.
"Don't be." His thumb brushed across my lower lip. "I'm not."
The door burst open without warning and Damien Cross stumbled in, held between two guards. He was beaten, broken, but his eyes still held that mean hatred when they fixed on me.
"You," he spat blood onto Tillman's expensive carpet. "This is all your fault, you worthless little bitch."
Tillman moved so fast I barely saw it, his hand wrapping around Damien's throat and slamming him against the wall. "Watch your mouth."
"She ruined everything," Damien choked out. "My territory, my power, my life. All because she couldn't keep her mouth shut."
"No," Tillman's voice was deadly calm. "You ruined everything because you were corrupt, abusive, and stupid enough to think you could get away with it. Helen had nothing to do with your downfall except being one of your victims."
He threw Damien to the floor, and the older man lay there gasping. "What are you going to do to me?"
"Nothing," Tillman said. "You're not worth my time anymore. But you are going to disappear, permanently. And if I ever hear that you've come near Helen again, in this life or the next, I'll make sure your death takes a very long time."
He nodded to the guards who dragged Damien out, still protesting. When the door closed again, Tillman turned back to me.
"He's not going to die," I said.
"No. Death's too easy for him. He'll live, but not the way he's used to." Tillman's expression softened slightly. "Is that okay?"
I thought about it. About all the years of abuse, the fear, the pain. About who I'd been and who I was becoming. "Yeah. It's okay."
He pulled me close again, and I let myself sink into his embrace. This man who was dangerous, powerful, who'd killed without hesitation, was holding me like I was something precious. It didn't make sense, but somehow it felt right.
"What happens now?" I asked.
"Now we deal with Victor Reyes, permanently. And then," his arms tightened around me, "we figure out what this is between us."
"You already know what it is," I said softly.
"Maybe. But I need to hear you say it."
I pulled back enough to look at him. "You're mine, Tillman Kin. And I'm yours. I don't know how or why, but that's the truth."
Something in his expression cracked open, vulnerability showing through for just a moment. "I don't deserve you."
"Probably not," I agreed. "But you've got me anyway."
He kissed me again, slower this time, almost gentle. And standing there in his ruined office, surrounded by the evidence of violence and chaos, I felt something I hadn't felt in years.
Hope.