Galen allowed himself to hold Meg for a beat. Two. On the third, he smoothed a hand over her hair. “Can you stand on your own, baby? I need to cut this dress down to size and get you the fuck out of here.” Galen had run countless scenarios on how this night would play out, and not a single damn one of them had included finding one of the guards grappling with Meg out in the dark, away from the house. And yet here she was, whole and shaking, but relatively unharmed.

He hoped.

He went to his knees and pulled the knife from the sheath in his boot. He sawed through the dress just above Meg’s knees and then yanked it away from her body. It was too cold for her to be dressed like this, but better to have her legs exposed than to trip and fall down the narrow staircase carved into the side of the cliff.

Or to bring attention to them.

He cupped her face with his hands. Even in the low light, he could see black tracks down her face where she’d shed tears. It made him want to march into that house and put a bullet between his old man’s eyes. Not now. Not tonight. Tonight, the only priority was getting Meg home safely. After… Well, they’d worry about that shit after the fact. “Can you walk?”

“Yes.” She leaned into his touch, seeming to soak him in as much as he soaked her in. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Took the words right out of my mouth.” He considered his options and grabbed her hand. “Stay behind me until we get to the stairs, and then you’re going to go first.” He and Kozlov’s team had already taken care of the guards in that area. The last target had been the one with his hands all over Meg, and he wouldn’t be bothering anyone ever again.

She nodded. “Okay.”

“You got this far. Let me take it the rest of the way.” He drew his gun from his shoulder holster and guided them into the darkness. There wasn’t anywhere to hide, the rock barren around them in a way that had to be designed. He knew, because he’d done the same with his place. Galen hated seeing physical evidence of how similar he and his father’s minds worked, but there was no denying it. He actually approved of the security measures.

The only thing his old man didn’t count on was Galen himself.

Two women melted out of the darkness and he recognized them as Zara and Alexis from Kozlov’s team. They fell into formation behind him as if they’d done this drill a thousand times. “Clear,” Zara murmured. “They have shift changes in seven minutes, so we need to move.”

“We have less time than that.” However Meg had escaped—and they’d be talking about that later—they were bound to notice sooner, rather than later. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

As if on cue, someone started shouting at the front of the house. Galen tightened his grip on Meg’s hand and pushed her in front of him. “Down the stairs. Now.” He pointed at Zara and Alexis. “Cover our retreat, but you stick to me, you hear me?”

“We don’t answer to you,” Alexis narrowed her eyes in the direction of the house.

“What she means to say is ‘Yes, sir!’” Zara checked her rifle and nodded. “Go. We’re right behind you.”

He went. His priority was Meg. He had to trust that Kozlov had trained these women well enough. That Galen had trained Kozlov well enough.

He shadowed Meg’s steps, keeping one hand free in case he needed to pull her back from the edge, but she never faltered. Down and down and down they went, the shouts and curses above them gaining volume. “Almost there, baby. You’re doing great.”

They reached the dock just as shots rang out above them. Galen grabbed Meg to him and twisted to keep his body between her and any bullets headed their way. Alexis and Zara returned fire and he rushed Meg to the boat. It was a tactical boat barely big enough to hold the four of them. He and the women had to paddle it in to avoid detection, but it would get them out of here in a hurry. He dumped Meg into it and turned to find Zara next to him. Alexis was still on the stairs, firing up at the men crowding the top of the staircase, her laugh a wild thing on the wind.

Goddamn it.

He pointed at Zara. “Cover me.”

“You can’t—”

But Galen didn’t give a fuck what he couldn’t do. He charged up the dock and grabbed Alexis around the waist. She cursed, but kept firing as he walked them backward down the last few stairs and across the dock. He dumped her onto the boat next to Meg. Zara didn’t wait for him to toss her in. She leaped gracefully down, and then it was Galen’s turn.

Zara worked the motor and he pulled Meg into his arms, using his body to shield the worst of the wind. Galen looked up just as a man came to stand at the top of the stairs, his familiar form backlit by the lights of the house. Dorian. He watched them as Zara got the motor started. He watched them as they sped away from the dock, bullets peppering the water around them. He watched them until Galen could no longer make him out, until the house itself was just a smudge in the distance.

Alexis ripped open a package and shook out a blanket. “Here, Consort.”

He considered calling her out on the stunt on the stairs, but he wasn’t head of security. Yet. Instead, Galen wrapped the blanket around Meg and held her closer. Shakes racked her body, and he couldn’t tell if it was fear or adrenaline let down or the cold. He didn’t know what to say, so he kept it simple. “You’re safe. I’ve got you. You’re safe.” Over and over again as they sped across the surface of the Aegean Sea.

You’re safe. I’ve got you.

Meg clung to Galen and waited for her body and mind to accept that truth. Part of her feared she was already halfway gone, delirious with drugs and hallucinating in the basement of Dorian’s home. The other part? Down deep, where hope couldn’t touch it, she feared that Dorian had wanted this all along. Her escape. A rescue. A glimpse of safety before whatever poison he’d dosed her with worked its evil magic and swept her away from Theo and Galen for good.

Say something.

You can to say something.

You can’t offer him false hope.

Meg clutched Galen’s shirt. “Poison.”

“What?”

She had to lift her voice to be heard over the waves. “He might have poisoned me. That was his plan. I… I don’t know if he already did it while I was unconscious.”

Galen’s grip on her spasmed, but his face fell into its customary expressionless mask. He kept one arm around her and dug a phone out of his pocket. “Theo, get the helicopter ready. We’re on our way.” A pause. “Have the doctor on standby as soon as we touch down at the palace.” His dark eyes drank in the sight of her. “I don’t know if she’s okay. Just… Just have the shit ready, okay?” He hung up.

“That was cruel.”

“Telling him you’re okay when you could start vomiting blood or something fucked like that is cruel.” He gathered her back to his chest, the feel of him wrapped around her smaller body creating a lie that she was safe. “Try to relax.”

“What if they come after us?”

“They won’t.”

As if it was as simple as that. “But what if they do?”

Galen cursed, low and rough. “Then I’ll put a fucking bullet in their brains. You’re not going back there, Meg. Not ever. You’re safe, and if the bastard poisoned you, then we’ll get a goddamn antidote and un-poison you. You’re our happily ever after, and this isn’t one of those fucked up love stories you like to watch where someone dies at the end.” His voice broke, just a little. “Sit here and let me hold you and know that you’re safe.”

The truth washed over her. As terrified as she’d been, as helpless and at a loss… Galen had been, too. And Theo, as well, no doubt. She slipped her arms beneath his jacket and hugged him close. He was shaking. “I’m okay. You got to me in time.”

“I might not have.”

Meg shifted closer yet, pressing her face against his throat. Finally she lifted her head. “You did.”

If he was Theo, he would have spent another ten minutes kicking himself, maybe a day or two beyond that brooding over everything that could have gone wrong. Theo would do that once he was sure she’d survived mostly intact. Galen simply took her words as truth and nodded. “You’re right. I did.”

Meg glanced at the two formidable women sitting on the other side of the boat. One manned the motor, steering them with a determined look in her dark eyes. The other stroked her rifle as if it was some kind of pet and kept her head on a pivot, searching for some sign of their enemies.

She must have fallen asleep at some point, because the next thing she knew, a rough bump of the boat jarred her into waking. Meg opened her eyes just as Galen stood and lifted her with him. He stepped onto something far more solid than the boat—the dock—and then Theo was there, pulling them both roughly into his arms.

Things happened quickly after that. A frantic trip to the waiting helicopter, and a tense few hours’ ride back to the palace. Through it all, Theo and Galen never let go of her. They also didn’t say a single word. Their presence comforted Meg, even as it woke the awful feeling that nothing would ever be okay again. What would happen to them if she died the way Dorian planned? Would they become shadows of themselves? Would they keep going with only the slightest hitch?

No, the latter was her insecurity talking. They loved her. If Meg was sure of nothing else, she was sure of that.

She tightened her grip on their hands. “Don’t let him win. If… If I’m poisoned, don’t you dare let him win. Take your time. Grieve. But then you find someone else. Don’t let this be a fissure that damages you irreparably.”

Galen’s jaw went tight, but it was Theo who barked out a rough laugh. “No, princess. You’re not going to fade gracefully into the sweet embrace of death while handing out fortune cookie advice. In fact, you’re not going to do it at all if I have anything to say about it.” He brought her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “We’re almost there.”

A dizzying descent brought them to the roof of the palace. A flight of stairs, two turns, and they walked into a part of the building Meg had never been in before. She looked in askance at Theo, but it was Galen who answered. “Staff quarters.” He opened a door, leading the way into what appeared to be a hastily thrown together hospital room.

Dr. Oakes greeted her with a warm smile. “Welcome back, Consort.” His gaze flicked to Theo and Galen and then back to her. “Are you well enough to change? We have some tests we need to do.”

The last thing she wanted to do was get into a sterile hospital gown and submit to being poked and prodded, but Meg nodded. They had to know if she’d been poisoned, and they had to know now. It had been hours since her escape, and though she didn’t feel any worse for wear, other than the nasty headache and vague nausea that had plagued her from the moment she woke up, they had to know. They just had to. “Okay.”

And so it began.

After reentering the room, Dr. Oakes took vials and vials of blood, which he carefully handed over to a nurse who disappeared immediately, probably to start testing it. Then, with comforting words and gentle hands, he examined every inch of her body, asking her careful questions all the while.

No, she hadn’t eaten anything.

No, she wasn’t assaulted to the best of her knowledge.

No, she wasn’t aware of anything being administered, with the exception of the drug that knocked her out to begin with.

In the end, it was over far more quickly than she expected. He sat down across from her and gave her a serious look. “I can’t find any needle marks, except for the one on your palm. They could have potentially hidden a secondary one there, though, so we will check your blood again. But your vitals are all fine and though you’ll be feeling the effects of the drug for a little while, you seem to be otherwise unharmed.”

Something like hope coiled through her. “You mean maybe he didn’t get a chance to drug me.”

“I mean that I’m going to run some tests on your blood, but most poisons I’m aware of that could be administered in a way that he could have managed without you remembering are ones that would act fast—within a few minutes or a few hours. We’re past that window at this point.” He held up a hand. “It’s possible there’s still something left to find, but if I were a betting man, I would bet that you slipped out of there before he had a chance to put things into motion.”

“When will we know for sure?”

“Soon. One way or another, we’ll know soon.” He pushed slowly to his feet. “I’m going to let those boys in here, but if they get you too worked up, they have to leave.”

The doctor might be on the far side of sixty and kinder than most people she’d met, but she didn’t doubt for a second he could kick both Theo and Galen out of the room if he decided it was in her best interest. Meg managed a smile. “Okay. We’ll behave.”

“See that you do.” And then he was gone, quickly replaced by Theo and Galen. With their energy taking up too much space, the room suddenly felt three sizes smaller. It should have dredged up feelings of claustrophobia, but Meg wanted to wrap the sensation of their presence around her like the warmest of blankets. Here, in this tiny room, for the first time in what felt like days on end, she felt truly safe.

Through some unspoken agreement, they took up spots on either side of her and each laced his fingers through hers. Meg took her first full breath in what felt like years. “Dr. Oakes thinks I might be okay.”

“He told us.” Theo ran his finger over her knuckles again and again and again. “How do you feel?”

Nothing less than the truth would do. “I’m freaked out. Every time I close my eyes, I see the look on his face or feel that guard’s hands on me or…” Meg shuddered. “If Galen hadn’t shown up when he did…”

“Then you would have kicked his ass down the cliffs.” Galen’s rough voice soothed something inside her, as if he firmly believed his words. As if he hadn’t seen just how helpless she’d been, how firmly ruled by panic.

“I want self-defense lessons. I know we talked about it before, but I want them now. And I need to brush up on my shooting.” She was more than passably good with a rifle thanks to her upbringing, and shotguns took barely any skill at all, but handguns were something else entirely. She knew enough to not shoot someone—or herself—on accident, but that was the sum of her experience.

Galen exhaled long and slow, as if doing that would keep his first response in. Finally, he said, “Will that make you feel more in control?”

“Yes.” Irrational, but she wasn’t prepared to set aside her fear yet. She didn’t know if she even could.

“Okay. Then we start Monday.”

Theo kept up that constant stroking, his touch an anchor she allowed to settle through her. He spoke softly and clearly. “You’re safe, Meg. You’re here and you’re safe, and we’ll never let anything like that happen again.”

Maybe it wasn’t a promise he could make, but she let him make it all the same. Meg relaxed into them, letting their big bodies buoy hers, letting their strength bolster her up until she no longer felt in danger of coming apart at the seams. “As long as Dorian’s alive, he won’t stop. He’s too determined to make Galen hurt—to make both of you hurt.”

“Let us worry about Dorian, princess. He won’t come near you again.”

He had no business saying that, and she had no business believing it, but when Theo spoke, the truth seemed to spill from his mouth. It was some strange combination of confidence and pure privilege, but staring up into his blue, blue eyes, Meg actually believed him. “I love you. Both of you.”

“We love you, too.”

Suddenly, she couldn’t get the words out fast enough. “I want this. I know I said it before, but I want this, full stop. I still want to finish my degree, but I want you and you and I want babies and all the bullshit with the nobles and Thalania. I want us.”

“How do you feel about a fall wedding?”

Meg blinked. “What?”

Theo studied her left hand and stroked over her ring finger. “Make this official in a way that has nothing to do with Thalania.” He shifted, sliding off the bed and coming down on one knee in front of them. “Marry me, Meg.” He raised her left hand to his lips, and then claimed Galen’s left hand and did the same, pressing a soft kiss to his ring finger. “Marry me, Galen.”

The list of reasons why it was impossible ran nearly as long as her arm. Meg simply didn’t give a fuck. She wanted this. She wanted it forever, and she wanted it for always. “Yes.” She turned and looked at Galen. “Marry us, Galen.”

His dark eyes jumped from one of them to the other, raw and filled with a longing he rarely let through his careful control. “You’re serious.”

Theo held his gaze steadily. “I’ve never been more serious.”

Galen looked at Meg. “You do this, there’s no taking it back or changing your mind. It’s us—the three of us—forever.”

She let him see exactly how much this meant to her—to them—and repeated, “Marry us, Galen.”

“Goddamn it, like I’m going to say no.” He pulled them forward into a kiss. It was messy and complicated and perfect. “Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you. Yes to a fucking fall wedding or spring wedding or whatever the fuck you want. Just yes.”

Three weeks later

Theo walked into his hotel room and carefully locked the door behind him. He’d known who was waiting for him the moment he left the ring shop earlier, but he’d taken the circuitous route back. Time enough to have a quick phone call with Meg, to check in with Galen and assure him that Theo was not, in fact, taking foolish risks on his first trip out of Thalania since Meg’s attack.

Now, he flipped on the light and smiled. “Dorian. Strange coincidence, finding you in my hotel room.”

The dark-haired man pointed a gun at him. “You froze my accounts.”

“Did I?” Theo shrugged and tossed his bag onto the coffee table. “Seems to me that you’ve gotten into bed with powerful people who have terrible track records. It could have just as easily been one of them that decided to teach you a lesson.”

Dorian visibly shook, his face going red and angry. “Don’t fuck around with me, you little shit. My wife left me. Disappeared. Everyone has left me. Call that goon of yours, Kozlov, and instruct him to release the holds on my accounts. Then, if you’re lucky, I won’t shoot you where you stand.”

Theo reached for his phone. He drew the gun nestled at the small of his back in a smooth move and fired two shots into Dorian’s chest. Before the other man realized what had happened, Theo stalked to him and knocked his gun away. Dorian’s eyes went wide. “You shot me.”

“Yes, I did.” Theo gripped his arms and guided him to the floor and leaned him against the wall. He sat back long enough to send a quick text to Isaac. It’s done.

Dorian rasped a wet laugh. “My boy will never forgive you for this. He might hate me, but he’ll…” He coughed. “He’ll never forgive you.”

“You’re a fool, Dorian.” Theo smoothed back his dark hair, so similar to Galen’s. “You’ll never have a chance to hurt those I love again. And your body will never be found.” He pushed to his feet and went to answer the knock on the door. Isaac and a trio of people walked into the room.

Isaac took one look at the dying man on the floor and gave a short not. “You should have done him slower.”

“Probably.” Theo looked at Dorian and waited for guilt to flare or something akin to regret. It never came. The only thing he felt was a vicious satisfaction that he’d taken the necessary steps to ensure the man never came near Galen or Meg again. Without that driving force sowing dissent in the Thalanian ranks, they finally had a chance at peace. “Let’s finish this up, Isaac. I want to go home.”