Page 100 of Savage Don

“She can see her friends here.”

“You don’t like people coming here.”

“I like her leaving less.”

She exhales slowly, trying not to get irritated. “She is lonely.”

“She is safe.”

“She is scared.”

That lands too close.

I look at her. “Don’t lecture me about my daughter’s fear.”

Her face changes.

“I’m not lecturing you.”

“You have been here for less than two weeks.”

“I know that.”

“Then don’t speak as if you understand what it takes to keep her alive.”

The moment I say it, I know I have gone too far.

Elara goes still. She doesn’t gasp or step back. She simply closes a little, as if some small hopeful part of her has quietly retreated before I can strike it again.

“You’re right,” she says.

I hate those two words immediately. “Elara⁠—”

“No. You’re right. I overstepped.” She adjusts the folder against her chest. “I’ll tell her I asked.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“It’s fine.”

It’s not fine.

Nothing about her face is fine.

She turns and walks away before I can find the right words, and this time I don’t stop her.

I stand in the corridor, angry at myself, at Sergei, at whoever placed her in our path, at the fact that I no longer know which instinct to trust.

Then I hear Anya laughing from inside the library, waiting for the answer Elara promised to bring her.

And for the first time in days, I’m not sure I have protected either of them from anything.

14

ELARA

I almost cry in the corridor. Almost.

My throat tightens first, which is always the warning sign. Then my eyes start to burn, and for one awful second, I think this is going to be it. This is going to be the moment I finally embarrass myself in a billionaire’s hallway because his fatherly authority came with a side of unnecessary cruelty.