She lay in his arms like a babe, fighting to control her sobs, her breath hitching as tears dampened his shirt.He had taken a risk, he knew. The chances of her sliding that knife into his side had been high. Too fucking high. He could have been bleeding out on the stone floor rather than wrapping his arms around her and holding her against his chest.So why wasn’t he bleeding? He’d been almost certain she would attempt the blow. What bothered him was the fact that at that point, he had almost decided to let her have it.She had to trust him. There wasn’t enough time left to gain her trust or to hope for the best. He had so little time left. Even less if Callan or Jonas became suspicious and guessed where the general’s missing daughter really was. He didn’t worry about anyone else, but Jonas was naturally paranoid, and Callan, well hell, Callan just knew him. He didn’t doubt that his pride leader had already guessed what he was up to. What Callan decided to do about it would be anyone’s guess.“You’ve never had a problem doing what you had to before,”
