Koen is angry— whether at my stupidity or at being saddled with me, I’m not sure. Still, the depth of my lack of . . . of everything is not something I want to contemplate at the moment. “You are correct,” I say calmly, feeling a burning pressure behind my eyes. “And I’m not going to say that I can fend off whoever comes for me. However, if I know about a threat, I can prepare and take care of myself— ”
“I will take care of you,” he says roughly.
Oh. “Oh.”
He sighs and runs a hand through his thick, unkempt hair.
“Koen, you don’t have to— ”
“Serena.” I hear it in his voice, how little patience he has to spare. For the first time, it occurs to me to wonder what his night was like before he appeared to take care of Bob— and of me. The warning phone call from Lowe. The furious drive to r
