Madison
My mind drifts back to the last time I saw him. How he trailed his lips down the column of my neck or the way his hands held me in place as he stared down at me with those crystal blue eyes.
Eventually, my father steers it where he usually does when emotions run too hot—pack business. It helps drag me out of my thoughts.
“Rogue activity has been heavier near the north line,” he says to Adrian. “Have you seen movement on your side?”
Adrian nods once, dabbing the corner of his lips with a napkin. “Twice in the last month. Smaller groups. Testing boundaries more than attacking.”
Nash’s expression sharpens with something familiar and easier for him than family tension. Strategy, Violence and Solutions. Exactly in that order.
“They’re getting bolder,” he says. “Too comfortable.”
