“IF YOU stay here, things change,” Ronan said.
The words landed with the quiet weight of a door closing.
Lily stood across from him in the east wing sitting room, the only space in the compound that still felt like a living room instead of a tactical hub. The curtains were drawn against the pale winter light, leaving the space wrapped in a soft gray hush. A low fire burned in the hearth, the scent of wood smoke curling faintly through the air.
Ronan leaned against the edge of the heavy oak table, arms folded, posture relaxed in a way that never fooled anyone who knew him. His eyes were alert, steady on Lily’s face.
“This is not a threat,” he added. “It is reality.”
Lily nodded slowly. She had learned to listen when Ronan spoke like this. Not because he demanded obedience, but because
