Cold, paralyzing dread clamped down on my throat. My muscles locked instantly, a terrifying chill sweeping through my veins that had absolutely nothing to do with the air conditioning in the villa. In that fraction of a second, my mind screamed a thousand worst-case scenarios.
Had Boris's men bypassed Marcus? Had they slipped through the elite security lines while the main force was focused on the harbor? My knees threatened to buckle, but maternal instinct overrode the exhaustion. I shifted my weight subtly, preparing to throw myself over Leo's sleeping form, ready to use my own body as a shield against whatever monster had broken into my son's room.
Then, the heavy velvet curtain shifted. The shadow moved forward, and the soft, amber glow of the sports-themed nightlight caught the sharp, unmistakable angle of his jaw.
It wasn't an assassin.
