My phone’s already at my ear. “Marcus.”
“Working on it, sir.” His fingers click rapidly across keys in the background. “The system’s not responding. Give me two minutes—”
“I don’t have two minutes.” The words scrape out through clenched teeth. “Liv is up there, probably dismantling my entire security system, and you’re telling me I can’t even get to my own penthouse?”
“Sir, the override codes aren’t—”
A shrill alarm cuts through his response, the sound piercing enough to make me wince. Red emergency lights flood the corridor, casting everything in a hellish glow.
“Marcus.” My voice drops dangerously low. “Tell me that’s not—”
“Smoke detected on your floor.” The clicking intensifies. “Security feed shows… east wing, spreading fast.”
The phone nearly cracks in my grip. “Eve.”
“Sir, wait for emergency response—”
I’m already running toward the stairs, taking them two at a time. Two floors stretch above me, but the burn in my muscles barely registers through the mounting panic.
She’s trying to escape. She’ll get herself killed.
The thought drives me faster, harder. My breath comes in harsh pants, echoing off concrete walls.
My phone buzzes. Marcus again. I ignore it, focused solely on the distance between me and Eve. The smoke alarm’s wail follows me up, a constant reminder that every second counts.
She can’t leave.The thought pounds through me with each footfall.Won’t leave.
The stairwell fills with thin wisps of smoke, confirming my worst fears. She’s actually done it—created enough chaos to attempt an escape.
My legs burn, muscles screaming in protest, but I push harder. The space between us shrinks with each step, but it’s still too far. Still too much distance between me and what’s mine. The smoke thickens.
She’s mine to protect. Mine to save. Mine.
I slam the key into the lock, but the door refuses to budge. Something’s blocking it from the inside. The metallic taste of fear coats my tongue as smoke seeps through the gaps.
“Eve!” My shoulder connects with the solid wood, sending pain shooting down my arm. Again. And again. The door groans but holds.
Sweat trickles down my neck as I throw my weight against it one final time. The barrier gives way with a sharp crack, sending me stumbling into my foyer. Heat hits my face, along with thin tendrils of smoke that sting my eyes.
My gaze sweeps the entrance, searching for any sign of her. Nothing. Just the acrid smell of burning fabric drawing me deeper into my home.
The living room stops me cold. Smoke hangs thick in the air, churning from multiple points where Liv deliberately set small fires. My rug smolders, threads of smoke rising from its charred edges. The leather couch cushions are slashed, their stuffing providing fuel for another controlled burn.
Broken glass crunches under my feet as I move further in. The crystal vase she’d used to destroy my cameras lies shattered near an overturned end table. Books are torn and scattered across the floor.
My hands curl into fists as I survey the deliberate destruction. What the hell was she trying to accomplish? The fires are positioned to create smoke without spreading—meant to trigger alarms and create chaos rather than true destruction.
Unless…
Ice slides down my spine as darker possibilities surface. Was this a distraction or something more sinister? The thought of her trying to hurt herself, pushing boundaries to see how far I’d go to stop her, sends rage coursing through my veins.
“Eve!” My voice bounces off smoke-filled walls. “Where are you?”
The silence that answers twists something sharp in my chest. How far will she go to defy me? To prove she’d rather destroy herself than accept my protection?
The smoke thickens, carrying the bitter scent of burning fabric and shattered control.
The smoke burns my lungs as I push deeper into the penthouse. “Eve!” Another cough tears through my chest. “Damn it, answer me!”
