Damn

My muscles tensed instinctively as the knife whizzed past, the blade embedding itself in the wall mere inches from my head. Everything happened so fast that it took my brain a second to catch up to my body's reaction. A slow breath escaped me, and I turned my gaze from the still-quivering handle to the woman standing across from me.

She didn't flinch. Didn't show the slightest sign of regret. In fact, her expression was startlingly calm, her dark eyes steady and unreadable as she stared back at me. But I'd seen it. The split second when something sharp and fierce had flashed across her face before she managed to shove it back behind that damn mask of indifference she wore so well.

Michael shifted beside me, clearly impressed. My brother's reaction was a stark contrast to my own. A mix of irritation and fascination tightened in my chest. Who the hell was she, really? I had a feeling I was about to find out.

Slowly, she walked over, every movement controlled, fluid, like a predator stalking its prey. I forced myself to stay relaxed, leaning casually against the wall. She gripped the knife and yanked it free with a practiced twist of her wrist, then turned to face us again.

"I'm sorry. That was just a reflex. I didn't know you guys worked out in the evening. I'll steer clear from now on." Her voice was perfectly even, not a single hint of unease. Almost like she was apologizing for bumping into us in the hallway, not for nearly taking my head off.

Bullshit.

I narrowed my eyes, studying her. The more I watched, the more the pieces didn't fit. For the past few hours, she'd been quiet, almost timid. But this... this wasn't the behavior of a timid woman. This was someone with lethal instincts. Someone who knew how to handle a weapon. And that made her dangerous.

She didn't wait for a response. Instead, she turned on her heel and strode out of the gym, her head held high, every line of her body tense but controlled. I exchanged a quick look with Michael, who just shrugged, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"Looks like we've been underestimating your wife," he said, his voice tinged with amusement.

I didn't answer. Instead, I turned back to the wall, running my fingers over the faint dent the knife had left in the plaster. Her aim had been precise-deliberate. I wasn't sure what unnerved me more: the fact that she'd done it without hesitation or the fact that I'd seen no hint of fear in her eyes afterward. Only a brief flicker of frustration before she'd smothered it beneath that damn facade again. If I wasn't so pissed, I'd be impressed.

Without another word, I worked out for a while, then headed out of the gym, my thoughts churning. Something was off. She'd gone out of her way to hide whatever skill she had, and that meant she had a reason to keep it buried. But now that I'd seen it, there was no going back. I wouldn't let this go until I knew what she was hiding.

By the time I made it back to my room-our room-she was already in bed, feigning sleep. I paused in the doorway, watching her. She was facing away from me, her breathing slow and even. Too even.

So she thought she could fool me? That only made me more curious. Stripping off my clothes, I stepped into the bathroom, the hot water doing little to wash away the restlessness that simmered beneath my skin. I turned off the shower and grabbed a towel, barely paying attention as I dried off.

When I came out, she still hadn't moved. But I wasn't buying it. I crossed the room, my gaze locked on her back. The bed dipped slightly as I climbed in, leaning over her. I let my breath brush against her neck, close enough to feel her flinch.

"I know you're awake. Don't pretend," I murmured, keeping my voice low, almost a whisper.

Her eyes snapped open, and for a split second, something fierce flickered in their depths before she slammed it down again, locking herself back behind that mask of indifference. She turned slowly to face me, her expression carefully blank.

"Is there a reason you're hovering over me?" she asked, her tone clipped, as if I was the one intruding on her space. The challenge in her voice sparked something in me, a dark, twisted satisfaction that she wasn't as meek and docile as she'd pretended to be.

"You're not as docile as you want people to think," I said softly, letting my eyes drift over her face. Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn't look away.

I leaned in closer, watching her reaction. To her credit, she held her ground, refusing to back down even as I invaded her space. "That aim... it's not something someone learns by accident." I murmured, keeping my voice low and intimate, "where did you learn to do that?"

"Like I said, it was a reflex," she replied coolly. "No big deal."

"Bullshit," I said quietly, the curse soft but carrying a dangerous weight. "People don't just throw knives like that without training."

Her jaw tightened, a flicker of irritation flashing across her face. "Believe whatever you want," she replied coolly. "But I'm not here to explain myself to you."

The defiance in her tone made my blood hum. This was the real her, wasn't it? Not the quiet, submissive act she'd been putting on for Michael and the rest of the household. This was someone who knew how to fight, how to survive. But why was she hiding it? And more importantly, what else was she hiding?

"You're right," I murmured, letting a dangerous smile curl at the edges of my lips. "You're not here to explain yourself. But let me make something clear." I leaned in until our noses almost touched, until I could feel the quick, staccato beat of her pulse beneath my lips. "If you're hiding something that could put Michael, Gabrielle-or this family-in danger, I will find out."

Her eyes widened just a fraction before she smoothed her expression again. "I'm not a threat to your family," she said, her voice steady despite the tension radiating off her in waves.

"Then why don't I believe you?" I asked softly, watching her face closely. She was good, I'd give her that. But everyone had a breaking point.

I pulled back slowly, my gaze never leaving hers. "You're going to tell me the truth eventually," I promised, my voice a low growl. "One way or another."

With that, I rolled over, giving her my back, but sleep was the last thing on my mind. I'd meant what I said. I was going to uncover whatever secrets she was hiding. Because if there was one thing I'd learned over the years, it was that secrets always came with a price.

And I intended to make sure she paid hers.