The call came at 2 a.m.
Isla woke to Killian's phone buzzing. He answered immediately, his voice sharp.
"What?" A pause. "Where?" Another pause. "I'm on my way."
He was out of bed, pulling on clothes.
"What happened?" Isla asked.
"Dmitri. He's been shot. They're taking him to the safe house medical facility, but—" Killian's jaw tightened. "It's bad. He might not make it."
"Who shot him?"
"Don't know yet. But whoever it was is sending a message. Dmitri's one of my best. Taking him out is a power play."
Isla was already dressing. "I'm coming with you."
"No. Stay here. Stay safe. I'll call when I know more."
"Killian—"
"Please. I need to know you're protected while I'm handling this." He kissed her quickly. "Lock the door. Don't open it for anyone. I'll be back as soon as I can."
He left.
Isla sat in the dark apartment, anxiety gnawing at her.
Someone had shot one of Killian's lieutenants. Someone was making a move.
And Killian was walking into it.
