U.S. Marines - Book 2 - No Ramparts Between Us E-Book

Romano Arria

• Herausgeber: So Romance
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Serie: U.S. Marines
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 247

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

With his leave over, Hudson has to go on a mission to Afghanistan and leave Livia. But their feelings seem stronger than they imagined....

When Hudson's leave ends, he reluctantly leaves Livia for a dangerous mission in Afghanistan. The two lovers had promised each other not to become attached, but despite themselves, the feelings that had begun to emerge only increase, exacerbated by the distance and the perils of military life... What will become of them when Hudson returns? Where will their relationship take them?

Is Livia and Hudson's love story doomed? What will happen to the two lovers? Don't wait to discover the second volume of the romantic saga U.S. Marines.

EXTRACT

Livia stepped into Hudson's bedroom and stood by the window, her back hunched, arms wrapped tightly around herself, overcome by a wave of sobs.
Hudson had an aversion to tears. They reminded him of his mother, pleading with his father not to leave for the front, or during their arguments. A woman's lamentations echoed painfully in his memory and body. He despised the sound of weeping, the drama of farewells, the theatrics. He hated seeing a woman cry because of him, for him. It was like forcing himself to relive memories his mind desperately wanted to banish forever, yet never could.
Hudson had always managed to avoid sentimental women. He never wanted someone who would cling to him or make him cling to them, or try to make him do the same. He never wanted to fall in love. But then, one day, Livia had crossed his path and changed everything.
In the end, love was like a guided missile: impossible to dodge.

CE QU'WHAT THE CRITICS ARE SAYING

This second volume is in line with the first, the characters are still as endearing and the easy writing allows you to have a good time. - noeline, BookNode

I loved this story so much that it keeps you on the edge of your seat from beginning to end. Honestly, it's the best! Don't miss it.- maitee, BookNode

A nice sequel, with more twists and turns. A pleasure to follow the loves of our two lovebirds as well as the adventures of Scarlett and Hudson's friends.- PANDORE88, BookNode​​​


ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Arria Romano studies military history at the Sorbonne and is passionate about literature and art. For several years, she has been writing historical novels and romances—whether they take place in the past, the present, or are even shrouded in a veil of magic… as long as love and passion remain the central thread of the story.

Leseprobe

Cover

Title page

Chapter 1

Craven Street Three Days Later

Sitting cross-legged on the floor of Hudson’s living room, armed with a paintbrush, Livia was busy refreshing the red paint on a small Chinese-style bedside table. Encouraged by the swing, jazz, and blues alternately playing from Scarlett’s gramophone, set up in a corner of the room for the day, she painted while humming along to the melody. Take the A Train. Duke Ellington.

Standing across from her, in a white tank top and black shorts, a chocolate bar in his mouth, Hudson was equally ­occupied repainting a lovely cabinet in a duck-egg blue. As he worked, his eyes wandered every few minutes to the delightful sight of Livia; adorably delicate in one of his borrowed black t-shirts, her loose hair held back by a red headband, her lips painted an even brighter red, and her natural grace that never left her, not even while painting. The glamorous blonde looked like she had stepped out of a 60s pin-up magazine.

Watching the woman who drove him crazy, engaged in such an ordinary activity, right in the middle of his home—this was the kind of simple joy Hudson lived for.

“Enjoying the view, Captain?” she teased, tilting her head back slightly, her expression languid.

“If you lose the t-shirt, it’ll be even better.”

“Patience...” she began, about to resume painting when suddenly, the notes of a new song filled the air with romance. Green Eyes by Jimmy Dorsey! “This one’s for you.”

With enthusiasm, she stood up, placing her brush back in the red paint pot, and appeared by his side, extending a hand to him with the air of a gallant inviting a lady to dance:

“Captain Rowe, may I have this dance?”

Hudson paused his movements and looked at her with a tender smile.

“I don’t know how to dance, my angel.”

“Really? They don’t teach you that in the Marines?” she teased. “I thought dancing was a required skill for charming women at your balls...”

“Unfortunately, it wasn’t the option I chose.”

“It’s just a little fox-trot, very simple,” she said, taking the brush from his hands and placing it in the blue paint pot before grabbing his wrists. “Let me guide you.”

She led him to the center of the room, slid one hand to his waist while keeping the other intertwined with his, and showed him the steps. Feeling a bit ridiculous, he mimicked her movements anyway, just to please her, letting himself be carried by the rhythm of the dance.

Livia’s enthusiasm moved and charmed him. He would have done any silly activity just to see the springtime smile she gave him and the starlight sparkle in her periwinkle eyes.

There, in his arms, moving gracefully and rhythmically, she exuded freshness, carefree joy, promising all the pure and sweet flavors of an enchanted world...

“You’re getting the hang of it!” she rejoiced as he spun her around before catching her firmly in his arms, though the movement was a bit too abrupt to be truly graceful.

But it didn’t matter. Hudson was playing along, and the pleasure she saw in his eyes spurred her on even more.

Soon, her lover’s clumsiness caught up with him, revealing itself in all its glory when he accidentally stepped on her foot—not too harshly, thankfully.

As if he had seriously hurt her, he pulled away, apologizing, but this misstep only provoked a nymph-like laugh in response.

“Your feet are going to end up as mush if you hang around me.”

“Don’t run away, it’s nothing!” she assured him, chasing after him to pull him back into the dance.

He obliged willingly, but, not wanting to step on her feet again, he lifted her into his arms, carrying her and spinning her in rhythm. Livia clung to his neck, laughing like a child as, in their improvised fox-trot, they bumped into the sofa and fell onto it, Hudson lying beneath her.

“I wish I’d met you at a ball,” she mused, crawling up his chest to bring their faces closer, her radiant smile in harmony with the lively notes still setting the mood.

“We would’ve brought the house down, believe me. I might’ve even torn your stunning Hollywood vamp dress by accident.”

“Quite convenient for moving on to the serious stuff, wouldn’t you say?”

“I wouldn’t have complained too much if that was the case,” he admitted, sitting up slightly to rest his head on one of the armrests, allowing him to observe her better.

Livia hadn’t moved an inch, remaining sprawled on his chest like a lazy, affectionate cat.

“We’ve made good progress with the furniture, haven’t we?”

“Yes. I wouldn’t have had the courage to start without you.”

“You can sell the first pieces we fixed up starting tomorrow. And these two will be perfect for the room with the yellow walls,” she said, referring to the cabinet and bedside table they were restoring. “They’d look great in a child’s room...”

“I’m thinking of turning that room into a guest room.”

“You should leave it as a nursery.”

“I don’t plan on having kids.”

“Mmm... you might change your mind someday. At your age, it’s the right time to start thinking about it,” she said playfully, though a hint of seriousness lingered beneath her tone.

“You make it sound like I’m nearing fifty.”

“Time flies, Hudson.”

“Then you should think about it too. It’s a much bigger concern for you women, with your biological clock and all...”

“I’ve got another fifteen years to find a man willing to have a baby with me.”

“Are you ready for that?”

“Having a baby isn’t my priority, but if it happened now, then yes, I’d be ready.”

Livia felt her stomach twist with emotion at the way his green eyes studied her. Why were they talking about babies? How had the conversation veered onto this topic? It was absurd. You didn’t talk about such things with a lover who was going to leave you soon!

A bit embarrassed, she sat up, straddling him, and began absentmindedly tracing the contours of his abs. Soon, she grew dreamy, and her instincts conjured an image of a sturdy little boy with black hair and jade-green eyes, running toward her to ask for his water gun.

Livia jolted out of her reverie when she felt Hudson’s palms slide over her hips, then onto her flat stomach. She met his gaze and invited him to slip his hands under the t-shirt, directly onto her warm, trembling skin.

“Livia?”

“Mmm...?”

“You’d tell me if you were expecting a baby, wouldn’t you? Even though we’ve always been careful, and I pulled out that time in the shower, I know accidents can happen.”

For reasons she couldn’t quite explain, Livia tensed at his words and immediately released his wrists, feeling a bit offended. Yet, there was no reason to be upset. Hudson hadn’t done anything wrong; he just wanted to ensure he wouldn’t leave behind any major responsibilities or complicate his freedom with her.

“Don’t worry, there won’t be any accidents if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Her tone was sharper than she intended. Between her thighs, she felt the tension that suddenly gripped her lover. He, too, seemed slightly irked by her attitude but chose not to show it.

“Good.”

Unbidden, an image of a tiny blonde girl, no taller than his knee, with enormous forget-me-not blue eyes, playing tea party with him amidst ruins, flashed through Hudson’s mind. A miniature Livia, the fruit of their passion... she would be the greatest reward of his life.

This realization unsettled him, sowing chaos within. He harbored desires that conflicted with his and his lover’s plans. He shouldn’t be thinking about things that couldn’t extend beyond the end of their affair, which loomed ever closer with each passing hour.

As if Livia’s skin had sent an electric shock through him, Hudson withdrew his hands from her stomach.

She felt a chill where his invisible touch had lingered but tried not to let it trouble her too much. With feigned calm, she said:

“We need to finish painting so everything’s ready on time.”

With that remark, Livia brushed off their brief conversation with an imaginary flick and put on a cheerful demeanor, just to prove she wasn’t affected by anything.

In truth, she could feel her heart crying out in anguish.

And the reason for this new unease was not yet clear.

Chapter 2

Two Days Later

The doorbell echoed through Hudson’s house, momentarily halting Livia and Scarlett’s movements, who were busy packing old furniture into boxes for donation to a local charity. Hudson had stepped out earlier with the heaviest items for a first delivery to one of the town’s antique shops.

“Is Hudson expecting someone?” Scarlett asked, lifting her head from the boxes.

Positioned at the back of the room near the baroque mirror, Livia shrugged, unable to provide an answer.

“Could you check who it is, please?” she asked in return.

Scarlett promptly stood up and skipped cheerfully toward the front door. She had the day off and was eager to spend her free time helping Hudson finish organizing his home, savoring his company in the process. Livia’s presence brightened the atmosphere, though a palpable tension—caused by the Marine’s impending departure—occasionally threatened to sour the mood. It didn’t take a magician to see that the two of them had fallen for each other, caught in their own game. They shared a raw, intense love that neither had yet dared to confess.

Scarlett reached the front door and peered through the peephole, spotting a tall man with closely cropped blond hair standing with his back to her. Unable to identify him, she turned the handle and presented herself to the stranger, one eyebrow raised in curiosity.

“Hello, can I help you?”

The man turned slowly, revealing an outfit heavily inspired by Indiana Jones, and the sight of a prominent scar—unmistakable and unique—wiped the questioning look off Scarlett’s face, replacing it with a scowl.

“What are you doing here, Dalglish?”

“I see your charm is as legendary as ever, Scarlett,” he replied, sardonic.

Keir’s steely gaze swept over the redhead. She was dressed in a khaki jumpsuit, carrying the scent of beeswax, glue, and cardboard, with a leopard-print scarf artistically tied around her head in a knot at the nape of her neck. The wild accessory disappeared into the fiery curls cascading down her body to her full hips, noticeably rounder than the last time he’d seen her.

“You’ve put on weight,” he observed in the detached tone of a nutritionist weary of his patient’s dietary negligence.

He wasn’t usually rude to women, but Scarlett was different. This little witch with her sand-cat eyes seemed to provoke him just by existing. He couldn’t help but tease her—it was as if he were genetically programmed to do so.

Scarlett’s golden-green eyes darkened into a storm, and as she wrinkled her small nose, Keir noticed the freckles dotting it, spreading across her cheekbones like a trail of stars.

“Did you come all this way just to hurl your inappropriate remarks at me?”

Scarlett’s tone was as sharp as a whip crack.

“Don’t flatter yourself, little fox. Where’s Hudson?”

“He’s out at the moment.”

“I see.”

“I thought you weren’t due back on duty until tomorrow.”

“I’m crashing here tonight,” he said, glancing at the military duffel bag at his feet, which she hadn’t noticed until now. “Mind letting me in?”

“You could also wait outside.”

“Such hospitality, Scarlett!” came the refined voice of another woman, drenched in an accent straight out of a Jane Austen novel.

The door opened wider, revealing Livia’s enchanting face to Keir. Her welcoming smile didn’t falter, even as her eyes landed on the scarred visage of the stranger at the door. Of course, her large eyes—reminiscent of Tanzanian blue and violet gemstones—sparkled with surprise, but she was far too well-mannered to let her unease show otherwise.

Keir was used to enduring the curious stares people cast at his face upon first meeting him. It had been six years since his enemy had left their barbarous mark on him, slashing his already rugged, square-jawed features with a knife. But he appreciated the blonde’s discretion—surely this was the woman his friend was seeing. And what a woman! The epitome of grace in her blue summer dress.

How had a brute like Rowe managed to ensnare her?

“Who is this, Scarlett?”

The redhead turned to Livia and, gesturing toward the stranger, introduced him as one might describe a wild animal to avoid:

“Captain Keir Dalglish, Hudson’s friend, notorious womanizer, drinker, gambler, and inveterate cheat—the most impulsive, insolent, and rude man I know. In short, someone you don’t want in your contacts.”

“Thanks for the brief introduction, gypsy,” Keir quipped, flashing a wide smile that revealed perfect teeth, though one lateral incisor gave him a vampiric edge. “I couldn’t have said it better myself… except maybe at the end. You could’ve added ‘funny’ and ‘sexy.’”

“ I wouldn’t give you that satisfaction, not even for $5000.”

“We could negotiate other terms, you know.”

Livia’s gaze flitted between her irritated companion and the scarred blond man named Keir Dalglish. They radiated equal impertinence toward each other, seemingly locked in a contest to outdo the other in defiance.

Now that she thought about it, Hudson had mentioned his comrade during a conversation and had warned her of his arrival today. But she had been so preoccupied with her lover’s impending departure that she had shamefully forgotten about his friend’s visit.

“Hudson told me you’d be joining us today,” Livia interjected warmly, extending her hand. “I’m Livia Cartmell, his friend and Scarlett’s cousin. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Captain Dalglish.”

Yes, a friend. It was a reasonable, appropriate word. Significant, yet harmless. Nothing exaggerated.

“I know who you are, Livia,” Keir replied, gently clasping the hand she offered. “Tell me, can we drop the formalities?”

“Certainly.”

Keir smiled, admiration gleaming in his eyes, softening his rugged face with irresistible dimples in his cheeks.

“It’ll be easier between friends, because if you’re Rowe’s friend, you’re mine too. Scarlett being the exception, of course.”

“May God spare me the honor you seem to bestow on others,” Scarlett retorted, stepping aside. “Livia, I’ll leave you to entertain him. I’m going to finish packing the boxes.”

“Good idea.”

“Boxes?” Keir asked as he stepped inside, his eyes following Scarlett’s retreating figure toward the stairs.

“Yes. Hudson’s getting rid of some furniture, and we’re helping him pack it up to donate to the historic district. Everything’s supposed to go today.”

“Hudson wasn’t kidding when he said he was finally tackling this place,” Keir chuckled, following Livia into the living room. “The exterior looks brand new, and the inside seems to have been scrubbed from top to bottom.”

With a sweeping glance, Captain Dalglish took in the fresh, spacious interior. The same armchairs, photo cabinet, paintings, and his grandfather’s famous miniature models were still there. But a new atmosphere, distinctly feminine, had taken hold of the space.

It was the flowers. Fresh, scattered in various spots, in all the hues of summer, exuding a fragrance of happiness, life, joy, and love.

“And this explosion of floral scents is exquisite. It feels like I’m back at my cousins’ place in Scotland,” Keir continued, dropping his bag at the foot of an armchair.

“Hudson told me you just returned from there.”

“That’s right. I left paradise to return to hell,” he joked, exaggerating his Scottish accent.

A smile broke across Livia’s face, suddenly charmed by his Celtic way of rolling his “r”s. It was rugged, masculine, and a bit rustic—worthy of the Highlands. Yet it also carried the laid-back ease of a Southerner, with a dash of wild adventurer, thanks to his coffee-colored trousers and off-white linen shirt, perfect for a beach stroll or a ride through the Grand Canyon.

“But I promised myself I’d set foot there again once this mission is over.”

The mission. The same one that would send Hudson far away from her. It tore at her heart and made her want to cry, but she showed none of it.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

“If there’s beer, I’ll take one.”

She nodded and led him to the kitchen, where Kismet was napping in his cage, clutching a stuffed toy.

“I see the little primate is still here,” Keir noted, settling into one of the dining chairs as Livia walked to the fridge to retrieve a beer.

“Not for much longer. Hudson has to hand him over to his new owner today.”

“That’s a shame. That monkey was our little mascot. Hudson went all out to convince our lieutenant colonel to let us keep Kismet. But it was tough. We had to lock him up day and night with the K9 unit. Did he tell you how this little rascal saved us from an ambush?”

“Yes,” Livia replied, returning to him with the beer, which he accepted with a broad smile.

Damn, Hudson was lucky to have met this Englishwoman before him!

“Maybe he was a terrorist’s before becoming our ally,” Keir joked after popping the can open and taking a sip. “But he’ll be happy in the beautiful countryside around here.”

Keir stretched his long legs out in front of him, finding a more comfortable position on the chair. One hand rested casually over the backrest, while the other held the beer can on the table. With his sleeves rolled up, Livia noticed two tattoos: the first, on his left arm, displayed the Latin phrase “Carpe Diem,” while the second adorned his right forearm with a finely detailed Celtic bear head, its paw and five sharp claws incorporated into the design. The tattoo symbolized a totem.

“Can I offer you something to eat while you wait for Hudson? There are cookies and pecan pie. All homemade.”

Livia stood before him, welcoming, attentive, and utterly charming. A modern-day lady of the house, trained in the art of hospitality from birth.

A mischievous glint lit up Keir’s gray eyes.

“Did you know a pecan pie is enough to make me fall in love?”

“Would the charm work faster if I threw it in your face?”

Scarlett’s voice rang out behind them, drawing their attention. Keir shifted his focus to the redhead and replied, his tone laced with condescension:

“Violence is unbecoming of a woman.”

“Says the big brute.”

“Remind me who almost smashed a bottle over whose head?”

“I was just trying to defend that poor girl.”

“She didn’t need defending; she was perfectly happy in my arms. Which makes me the victim and you the ‘big brute.’”

“What’s this about a bottle and a poor girl?” Livia interjected softly, more amused than embarrassed by their verbal sparring.

“It was six years ago, the night we first met. I was having a good time with a woman when this devilish firecracker appeared out of nowhere and tried to bash my head in with a bottle, claiming I was assaulting my companion,” Keir explained, not giving Scarlett a chance to interject. “But really, I think she was just jealous she wasn’t in that woman’s place.”

Scarlett let out an outraged gasp.

“You’ve got some nerve!”

“I’ve got some nerve?” Keir repeated, his mockery giving way to undisguised resentment. “Who ended up with six stitches afterward?”

Livia looked at her cousin, impressed by the story. She knew Scarlett had a fiery, bold temperament, unafraid of open conflict—especially with Captain Dalglish, a man seemingly cut from the same cloth. Locking them in a room together would be like throwing two bloodthirsty gladiators into the Roman Colosseum—the fight would be fierce.

“How much longer are you going to whine about it, Dalglish? I’ve apologized multiple times.”

“Call me a whiner one more time, and I’ll toss you into the nearest bayou.”

“Before you toss me into the nearest bayou, could you help me lift a dresser, please?”

Keir raised one dark blond eyebrow, regarded her for a moment with a perplexed expression, then turned to Livia:

“She really has a funny way of asking for help.”

The sound of a car engine outside signaled Hudson’s return. Keir rose from his chair and followed the two women as they moved toward the entrance.

Scarlett opened the door just as Hudson climbed the porch steps, his rectangular Maui Jim sunglasses perched on his nose and a large pack of beer in hand. Keir stood behind the redhead, a delighted grin spreading across his face at the sight of the drinks.

“Always prepared with the booze,” he commented in greeting.

“I have to ensure my comrades’ comfort. Especially yours, you drunk.”

“You’re the best, man.”

Scarlett stepped aside to let the two friends exchange a hearty, masculine hug, while Livia watched them with admiration. Keir might have been seven or eight centimeters shorter than Hudson, but he exuded the strength of a seasoned field man, distinguished by a sturdy build capable of enduring any of the many physical challenges that a Scot might like.

“I didn’t think it would take so long to drop off the first boxes, or I would’ve been here to welcome you properly,” Hudson said, releasing him.

“I almost had to wait outside,” Keir began, casting a pointed look at Scarlett, who placed her hands on her hips, her expression impatient. “But thankfully, Livia came to my rescue.”

He continued, his gaze lingering on Livia, and Hudson followed his line of sight, his chest swelling with pride—perhaps the same pride a husband feels when someone praises his wife.

“Yes, Livia has a way of making people feel at ease,” Hudson added, his admiring eyes on her. A faint blush tinged her cheeks with pale pink warmth. “I hope Keir didn’t bother you.”

“No, he didn’t bother her,” Scarlett interjected, annoyed. “He’s charming as always, especially with me.”

“Don’t start your antics, you two.”

“It’s not my fault,” Keir defended himself. “Livia can vouch for me—it’s the firecracker who started it.”

If Scarlett’s green eyes could shoot arrows, Keir would already be writhing at Hudson’s feet. She opened her mouth, ready to deliver a sharp retort, when Livia demonstrated her diplomatic skills with a timely intervention:

“I call for a truce. At least for this afternoon.”

Scarlett closed her mouth, silenced by Keir’s smug expression.

“I was about to suggest the same,” Hudson admitted, glancing at his pair of friends. “I’m ordering you both to behave. If you don’t, I swear I’ll handcuff you to each other for the rest of the day—until evening, if necessary.”

Hudson wore his all-powerful captain’s expression, while Livia bit her lip to stifle a laugh at their scandalized faces.

Stunned by the threat, Scarlett let her arms fall to her sides and protested:

“If you think I’m going to let you tie me to this—”

With the swiftness of a FORECON agent, Keir moved beside her and clamped a hand over her mouth, muffling the rest of her sentence. Scarlett froze in shock, especially as he pressed against her back in the process. The contact of his solid frame, his overwhelming warmth, and his rugged scent assaulted her senses, leaving her speechless.

“Don’t worry, Rowe, we’ll be as good as gold.”

Chapter 3

Red Lion’s Bar, Port-Royal Evening

Hudson and his three brothers-in-arms were like the four elements of Empedocles, the four sides of a square, and the Four Noble Truths of Buddhism. Inseparable, complementary, and all-powerful.

That’s what Scarlett had told Livia on their way to the restaurant-bar, the place where the quartet was to meet Lex and John for dinner.

Now, seeing it with her own eyes, Livia could feel the solid brotherhood that bound the four towering men who surrounded her and her cousin.

“It was our instructor who first compared us to the four elements of Empedocles,” John explained mid-conversation, his licorice stick tucked behind his ear, ready for use if needed.

Dinner had been underway for nearly two hours. Livia was delighted to see John again, the white-haired aviator who had been her accomplice during her infiltration of the airbase. Out of uniform and dressed with a refined taste that betrayed a penchant for luxury brands and men’s jewelry, John revealed himself to be a very polished and agreeable man, charming in any situation. His arctic blue eyes, pure and crystalline, resembled northern glaciers and gave the impression of having witnessed the unfolding of the ages since the dawn of time. He was the kind of man one instinctively turned to, in joy or adversity.

Beside him, Lex had a more reserved and distant demeanor, perhaps a reflexive posture forged by his career as a military instructor. His behavior made him the opposite of Keir. But despite his intimidating appearance, reminiscent of a Soviet agent on an infiltration mission, this other friend of Hudson’s had greeted her with respect and kindness, thought not without a penetrating, deciphering gaze that lingered during their handshake. He too had hypnotic eyes, slightly unsettling, as if they could see beyond the limits of human vision. Beneath dark brown brows, Lex’s amber eyes held a spark both sensual and fierce, unlike anything Livia had ever seen.

Gypsy’s eye, wolf’s eye.

This Spanish saying came to her mind as she looked at him.

“Yeah, it was Sergeant McLean. Each of us was compared to an element,” Keir added after a swig of whiskey. “Water for John, Air for Lex, Earth for Hudson, and Fire for me.”

Seated between Hudson and the padded wall of the booth, Livia raised her eyes to her lover and asked,

“Why Earth?”

“It’s solid, dry, and static, not to mention that Earth corresponds to a nervous temperament,” Keir interjected before Hudson could answer.

“Earth needs water to grow and thrive. It turns out your element, Livia, might be water,” Lex said without preamble, with a certainty that intrigued her.

The young woman looked to Hudson for clarification, but he silently conveyed that he would explain later.

As if he hadn’t already surprised the Englishwoman enough, Lex pulled a tarot deck from his pants pocket—those old Italian cards his companions were accustomed to seeing—and placed the deck on the table. Livia observed them with genuine interest, and her reaction pleased the mystical instructor.

“Would you like me to read your cards, Livia?”

“Lex, please. Not now,” Hudson said, slightly irritated.

But the young woman didn’t share his sentiment. She gazed at Lex with curiosity, meeting his wolfish, Slavic eyes once more.

“Yes, I would.”

She deliberately ignored Hudson’s warning glance, who seemed tense in his seat. His reaction struck her as odd, as she considered tarot to be a lighthearted game, enjoyable for livening up an evening, but ultimately not to be taken seriously. At least, her past experiences with it had always been moments of amusing charlatanism.

“Lex isn’t an amateur, Liv,” Scarlett informed her, just as excited as Livia at the prospect of seeing the reading.

Deep down, Livia believed her. Lex was no charlatan or amateur. He exuded a magnetism unique to individuals with an great instinct, seeming to have a gift bordering on the paranormal.

“Stop projecting your nervousness onto me, Rowe,” Lex warned as he laid three cards before Livia, revealing them one by one.

“I’m not nervous.”

In truth, Hudson was. It was a kind of apprehension stirred by the thought that she might continue her journey without him by her side. Hoping for something that defied that inevitability was utterly absurd, yet he couldn’t help but feel the sting of a thousand tiny needles at the thought of what tomorrow would bring.

A definitive separation.

Livia held her breath as the cards were revealed, captivated by the illustrations of the figures and drawn into the esoteric atmosphere that had enveloped their table, isolating them from the other patrons.

“Knight of Wands upright. Queen of Cups upright. Death upright.”

A grim silence hung over them at the mention of the last card.

“Death?” she whispered, seeking an answer in Lex’s gaze, which remained unshaken by her confusion as he began his explanation.

“The first card represents travel, a change of residence, enthusiasm, and an adventurous spirit. The second symbolizes an expansive, devoted, and maternal nature. As for Death, it represents transformation, the end of a relationship, a project, or even illness and death itself. It’s not necessarily the death of the person whose cards I’m reading, but it could be someone in their circle or even a stranger who will impact their life.”

The final words fell like icy droplets on Livia’s soul, sending an involuntary shiver through her. Hudson tightened his arm around her waist, warming her with his presence.

“Translate, Lenkov,” Hudson ordered.

Lex locked eyes with Hudson, as if silently conveying a message, then refocused on Livia and commented in a clear, resonant voice:

“Livia, you came to Beaufort seeking freedom and found people who allow you to reveal your true nature and your greatest qualities—your joy for life, your enthusiasm, your maternal side, and the devotion you give to those you love. This journey required breaking away from the past, from old habits. But new beginnings can also bring their share of dangers or tragedies. You must remain vigilant.”

“Death is just a metaphor, nothing serious,” Hudson quickly added, shuffling the card back into the deck to remove it from view.

“I hate it when that card comes up. It’s creepy! Last time I got Death, I ended up with this damn scar and two bullets in me during deployment,” Keir added, only heightening the tension.

“Why would you say such nonsense, Dalglish?” Hudson scolded, shooting his friend a warning glare.

“What? It’s the truth.”