Chapter 164 Chapter 164

Chapter 164 Chapter 164
Talon’s POV

Kira stood up behind me, wrapping her arms around my waist and pressing her face against my back. I turned in her arms, wrapping one arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. "You look tired," I said softly, kissing the top of her head.
"I am," she admitted. "My back aches, and I feel like I ran a marathon."
"Go back to bed," I said. "I'll keep watch out here until five, then I'll wake you if he needs another bottle."

"You don't have to sit up," she said, looking up at me. "He's fast asleep."
"I know," I said. "I want to.” She looked at me for a second, seeing right through me the way she always did, then nodded. "Okay. Don't let the fire go out."
"Never do," I said.

She gave my hand a squeeze, took one last look at Leo in the crib, and walked back down the hallway to our bedroom, leaving the door cracked so she could hear if he cried. I walked back out to the living room, threw two heavy logs of dry hickory into the woodstove, and closed the iron door. The flames caught right away, sending a fresh wave of heat through the metal. I picked up my cold coffee from the kitchen counter, poured it out in the sink, and sat down on the leather couch near the window, looking out into the dark.

The moon was coming up over the ridge, casting a pale blue light across the endless blanket of white snow covering the fields. Out by the secondary Building , a single yellow light was burning above Marcus's Cabin. Down the road, a mile through the woods, I could see the faint glow of Mr. Gable's porch light marking the valley line.
Everything was quiet. The perimeter was clear, the house was warm, and my son was sleeping in the next room. I leaned my head back against the cushion, closed my eyes, and let myself rest.

Kira's POV

By the second week of January, the snow had settled thick across the valley, burying the fence posts along the driveway under heavy white drifts. The morning air outside was hovering right around twelve degrees, but inside the main house, the temperature stayed solid. The woodstove in the living room was burning through a steady pile of split oak, and the smell of dark roast coffee filled the kitchen.

I was sitting at the island in a cozy oversized sweater and leggings, holding Leo against my chest while he took his morning bottle. He was four weeks old now, growing fast, and starting to pay attention to the room around him. His dark eyes tracked the steam rising from my coffee mug on the counter, his tiny fingers locked tight around the fabric of my sleeve.
Talon was at the stove, flipping eggs in an iron skillet with the easy, unhurried rhythm he had picked up over the last month.

"Marcus should be up from the lower shed in a minute," he said, turning off the burner and sliding the eggs onto a plate. "He went down at six to check the fuel lines on the generator."
"Did he sleep at all last night?" I asked, shifting Leo to my shoulder to burp him. "I saw the lights on in his workshop past eleven."

"He was cleaning the carburetor on the side-by-side," he said, setting a plate down in front of me and pouring himself a cup of coffee. "You know how he is. If a motor isn't running at peak efficiency, he considers it a personal insult."
"He's going to work himself into the ground," I said, patting Leo's back until he let out a little burp. "He spent three hours yesterday clearing the drift off the greenhouse roof just so the glass wouldn't flex."

"I'll handle him," he said, a small grin touching the corner of his mouth. "He thinks he's still running security details in manhattan where everything is a high-priority threat."
Heavy boots stomped off the cold snow on the back porch, and a second later, the mudroom door clicked open. Marcus stepped inside, bringing a rush of crisp winter air with him. He shed his heavy lined canvas coat, hung his gloves on the dryer rack, and stepped into the kitchen holding a clipboard with his daily maintenance checklist.

"Morning, Dr. Monroe. Boss," Marcus said, keeping his tone professional as he stepped up to the island. "Lower perimeter line is clean. Creek isn't frozen solid yet, but the ice is holding about three inches. Solar banks are pulling twenty percent efficiency through the cloud cover, which is right on target for January."
"Grab a plate, Marcus," Talon said, nodding toward the counter where he had set out extra food. "And sit down."

Marcus blinked, looking down at his clipboard like he wasn't sure if he was allowed to put it away during work hours. Sometimes, I was surprised at Marcus, he called me Dr. Monroe and then sometimes it as Kira "I still need to grease the fittings on the tractor's front loader before eleven." he started to say.
"The tractor isn't going anywhere Marcus," I cut in gently, pointing to the stool across from me. "Sit. Eat some eggs while they're warm."

He hesitated for a second, then set the clipboard on the corner of the counter and sat down on the wooden stool. He pulled the plate toward him and picked up a fork, his movements  were precise and disciplined. For as long as I had known Marcus, he had lived like a man on duty. Back when Talon was dealing with his empire, frozen offshore accounts, and his stepmother’s endless ambushes, Marcus had been the silent wall standing between Talon and disaster. He had vetted every driver, checked every hotel room, and slept with a tactical radio under his pillow. Even out here in the quiet of the mountains, he still carried himself like an active guard detail.

Talon leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms and watching Marcus eat.
"You've been out here six months, Marcus," Talon started, his voice casual.
"Six months and two weeks, boss," Marcus corrected between bites. "We cleared the timber for the secondary barn back in July."

"Right," Talon said. "And in all that time, you haven't taken a single day off. Not when we finished the build, not through the blizzard, and not when Leo was born."
Marcus set his fork down, his posture straightening instantly. "Boss, if there's an issue with my work pace.."

"There's no issue with your work," Talon said, cutting him off with a calm wave of his hand. "The property is running better than any estate in the county. That's not what this is about."
I set the empty bottle on the counter and adjusted Leo so he was resting comfortably in the crook of my arm, looking over at Marcus.
"Marcus," I said softly, "when we were in the hospital three weeks ago, who called the regional dispatcher every two hours to make sure the county plow kept our road open?"
"I did," Marcus said, looking slightly confused. "That was operational protocol."