The silence hummed, heavy with longing and restraint, until she thought she might shatter under it.
Then voices drifted down the corridor, breaking the spell.
Watchdog pulled back sharply, his hands dropping as though burned. Clara blinked, her pulse hammering, the crackle of heat between them dispersing like smoke.
She straightened, forcing her breathing back under control, her mind scrambling to tuck away the reckless thought of his lips.
He turned back to the screens, his expression shuttered once more. But the echo of his heartbeat stayed in her ears, the warmth of his arms still clinging to her skin.
And Clara knew nothing, not Oliver’s betrayal, not her parents’ debt, not even the looming threat, frightened her quite as much as the way she had just wanted her captor to kiss her.
The air between them was still charged, the phantom of his touch tingling against her skin, when voices carried from the corridor.
“Watchdog, you in here?”
The door opened without waiting for an answer. A handsome man stepped through first, his tall frame filling the doorway, sharp eyes flicking from Clara to Watchdog. The woman who followed was stunning too, dark hair, beautiful tattoos on her throat and neck and a gaze that missed nothing.
Clara’s stomach flipped hot as their eyes shifted between her and Watchdog, a subtle narrowing, as if they could feel the tension that still crackled in the air. Heat rushed to her cheeks.
“Clara, this is Bishop and Duchess. Guys, this is Clara Sutton.”
“Good to meet you both.”
“Yeah, you too, Clara.” Duchess offered a small smile, while Bishop’s was bigger, more open.
Watchdog moved first, his voice clipped. “What’s up?”
Bishop’s mouth curved in a knowing smirk, but he let it slide. “We’ve been running down threads. Talked to some old friends in the Service. Oliver Grant has been busy.”
Duchess stepped closer, folding her arms. “Too busy. The chatter’s getting louder. Someone’s been funnelling funds through shell companies tied to mining contracts in South Africa. Same names keep popping up, people with known links to Hansen’s network. Men we thought were gone.”
The name hit like a weight. Clara saw Watchdog stiffen, his hand flexing against the console.
Bishop’s voice dropped, harder now. “And it’s not just smuggling or guns. Hansen’s network was into trafficking. People. Children. They were selling human lives like cattle, and Grant’s connections put him right in the middle of that.”
The words seemed to hang in the room like poison. Clara’s breath stuttered, and she could feel the blood draining from her face. “No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “That’s not possible. Oliver couldn’t…he wouldn’t.” The thought snagged in her throat, bile rising. Her stomach turned violently, and she pressed a hand to her mouth, her entire body trembling. The man she’d agreed to marry, the man her parents praised, was tied, however loosely, to monsters who traded children.
Watchdog’s jaw was rigid, the tension rolling off him. He didn’t contradict Bishop. He didn’t soften the blow.
Clara’s horror deepened, an icy weight settling in her chest. She wanted to scrub herself clean, erase every moment she’d spent in Oliver’s presence. The ring on her finger felt like a shackle she hadn’t even noticed until now.
Bishop and Duchess kept speaking, but the words blurred around the edges until Watchdog’s voice cut through, pulling her back.
“He sent this,” Watchdog said.
His tone was flat, but Clara caught the edge beneath it. He tapped the keys, and the screen flickered to reveal the image of Lena laughing across a café table from Oliver.
Clara’s chest clenched so hard it hurt.
“He sent it with a warning. Lena is leverage now.”
Duchess’s eyes softened as they turned to Clara. There was no pity in her look, only sympathy, the kind that came from experience. “I’m sorry.”
Clara’s heart squeezed. Sympathy wasn’t what she needed. She straightened, drawing her arms across her chest, her voice firm despite the tremor in her stomach. “Then we have to see her.”
The room went still.
Watchdog’s head lifted sharply, his body going taut. “No.”
