She didn’t nod this time, didn’t move at all, but he caught the subtle shift in her breathing. She’d heard him. She was holding the words.
Oliver leaned in close to her ear, lips curved in that infuriating smirk, and Jonas’s pulse thundered. His hands hovered over the keys, forcing his voice flat and calm. “Oliver’sposturing,” he told Bás. “Left hand twitching near his jacket pocket. He’s armed. Clara’s holding her ground.”
“Then we flip the script,”Bás growled.“No one scares our family.”
The word family landed deep, steadying Jonas in a way nothing else could. Clara believed him. She was trusting him.
And he would not fail her.
The feed flickered as Oliver shoved Clara into a chair opposite her parents. Richard Sutton prowled behind his desk, fury and pride twisting his face into something regal and monstrous all at once. Her mother sat rigid in one of the leather armchairs, hands clutched in her lap, tears streaking her cheeks as if she were trying to silently weep her way invisible.
Oliver’s voice cracked through the hidden mic, sharp with manic bravado.“You think you can stall me, Richard? You think you can control me like one of your little pawns? No. This,”he slammed his palm against the table, hard enough that Clara jumped,“this is my empire now. You promised me her, promised me the estate, the assets, the pipeline of influence. And I delivered. I built the network stronger than Hansen ever dreamed. Your slice of the high-class drug trade in the UK is the biggest by far, and that’s down to me.”
Jonas’s pulse kicked. Hansen. That cursed name again. He filed the thread away, though his fingers itched to crush the keyboard.
Richard’s eyes blazed.“You delivered nothing without me. Don’t delude yourself, Oliver. You were nothing but a petty fixer until I lifted you up, until I handed you the connections, the land, the men. Everything you think you’ve built belongs to me. And don’t forget it.”
Oliver laughed, ugly and shrill. “Belongs to you? You old fool, the only reason we’re here is because she,”he jabbed a finger at Clara, the motion so violent Jonas nearly tore off his headset,“was leverage. With her name, her bloodline, I cemented us into high society. Her dowry is the key. Her signature ties us to every dirty stream of money your precious estate has hidden. Without her, you’re finished.”
Jonas swallowed bile, forcing himself to breathe evenly, forcing calm into his voice as he spoke softly into comms. “Clara, don’t react. Just breathe. You’re not their pawn. You’re stronger than both of them.”
On the feed, she straightened her shoulders. Brave, steady, though Jonas could see the tremor in her fingers.
Penelope Sutton sobbed, pressing her handkerchief to her lips.“Richard, please, this has gone too far. Oliver, stop this madness. She’s your fiancée, for heaven’s sake.”
“I don’t need a wife,”Oliver snarled, rounding on her.“I need a weapon, I need a way to clean my money, and with her name on every property deed, she’s it.”
Jonas’s knuckles whitened on the desk. He spoke low so only Clara’s earpiece caught it, “You are not his weapon. You’re mine to protect. Hold on.”
Clara’s gaze flicked down, not daring to look at Oliver, but Jonas caught the subtle shift in her breathing again. She’d heard. She believed.
His comms cracked.“Reaper here,”came the cool, satisfied voice.“Two men down. South wing secured. Recognised them, same bastards from South Africa. Alive but tied. They won’t be moving.”
Jonas froze, air catching in his chest. Them. The ghosts of that nightmare. The ones who’d—
He locked it down, spine rigid. Not now. Not while Clara was still in the fire.
“Copy,”Bás answered.“Keep them breathing. I want Sutton and Oliver to know exactly what we’ve pulled out from under them.”
Oliver’s voice rose, unhinged now.“You think you can control me, Richard? I’ll kill her right here. I’ll kill all of you. I’ll burn this house to the ground and piss on the ashes. Hansen was weak because he clung to vendettas. I don’t cling. I cut.”
Richard slammed his fist on the desk, spittle flying.“Don’t you dare compare yourself to Hansen! You’re reckless, Oliver, unstable. If you pull that trigger, you’ll lose everything. Everything I gave you. Don’t forget who made you.”
Jonas could see Clara’s face in the feed, pale but steady, her eyes darting between them, cataloguing every word. Brave, sharp. He wanted to burst into the room, shield her with his body, but instead he whispered into her comms, “Keep them fighting each other. Don’t let them focus on you. You’re doing perfectly.”
She drew a slow breath. Then her voice, calm and quiet but cutting, slipped through.“So, which is it? Am I the key to everything, or just the leverage you’re both scrambling over? Because I’m starting to think neither of you knows what you’re doing.”
Jonas’s chest swelled with pride. “That’s it, Clara. Make them underestimate you. Make them talk.”
Oliver’s face twisted, rage blotching his skin. Richard surged forward, jabbing a finger in his chest. They were shouting now, their voices colliding, her mother weeping, but Clara was as steady as stone in the storm.
And Jonas, calm, laser-focused, tracked every angle, every exit, every heartbeat of his team in position.
They were close.
Closer than Sutton or Oliver would ever realise.
And Jonas Mason, Watchdog, would be the one to end it.
