Natalie nearly choked on her coffee.“Attacked?”she sputtered, coughing as her eyes flicked between the three men.
“It was an accident,” she argued quickly, but the word faltered when she caught their faces.Khal’s faint smirk vanished.Amit’s gaze sharpened, and the air seemed to thicken, as if the walls themselves leaned in to listen.
“You have everything in place?”Amit asked Rylan, his tone even but carrying an authority that made her stomach knot.
“Still working on it,” Rylan replied, clipped.
Natalie’s confusion boiled over.She set her coffee down with a loudclink, folding her arms and fixing Rylan with a glare.“What have you kept from me?”she demanded.
A low, almost identical chuckle came from both Amit and Khal—not amused, but dark, as if they already knew the answer and were simply waiting for Rylan to confirm it.
Rylan sighed, leaning back against the counter, mirroring her stance.“It wasn’t an accident.”His voice was steady, but the words carried a weight that made the hair at her nape rise.“The vehicle that hit you sped ahead to position itself.Tom has traffic footage showing a blue sedan deliberately ramming you.”
Her breath caught.The room seemed to shrink as she turned toward the older men.Both were utterly still, their expressions carved from stone.
“Someone is trying to kill her?”Amit asked, his voice quiet but sharp enough to cut through the silence.
“It’s starting to look that way,” Rylan said, his tone flat—yet under it, Natalie heard the same dangerous edge she’d just heard in his father’s voice.“Add in all the other instances, and…” he let his voice fade away as her face drained of color.
Natalie shook her head, disbelief and fear tangling in her chest.“But… it was just a glitter bomb,” she whispered, her voice cracking.“And… they fluffed my pillows.”
Rylan’s jaw tightened as he glanced at his father and uncle even as he pulled her into his arms, protecting her from the world.“It started with someone breaking into her home and rearranging things.Flowers left in a vase.Pillows fluffed.The police dismissed it asfemale hysteria.”
Both older men scowled, their expressions hard enough to chill the air.
“I thought that attitude died with the bra burnings,” Sheik Khal muttered, his voice low and dangerous.
“Oh, it’s alive and well,” Rylan grumbled, his tone sharp.Then he looked down at Natalie, and his voice softened.“Then came the glitter bomb at her office.And someone tried to run her down in a parking garage.”
Her knees weakened, and before she could sway, Rylan tightened his arms, holding her tight, as if his body alone could shield her from every threat.
“That’s two attempts on your life,” he murmured, the words vibrating with restrained fury.“Tom’s working on finding out who’s behind this.”
Before she could respond, Tom strode into the kitchen, his expression grim.“I think I might have something.”
Rylan’s grip on her tightened as Tom set a tablet on the counter.“Brace yourself,” he warned.“This won’t be easy to watch.”
Natalie drew in a breath and leaned forward.The traffic camera footage played—her SUV rolling toward a red light.For a few seconds, nothing.Then, just as the light turned green and Natalie’s vehicle moved forward, a blue sedan shot into the intersection and slammed into her.
She gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.Memories jolted back in jagged flashes—pain, confusion, the blurred figure walking away.On-screen, the driver stepped out: blond hair, high heels, dark sunglasses… but the stride was wrong.
“That’s a man,” she whispered, her voice shaking.“In a wig.But at the time, I thought…” She trailed off, unable to finish.
Tom paused the video, tapping the screen.“The car was rented using a fake name, fake license, fake name on the credit card.But the card traces back to a company called Raven Industries.Mean anything to you?”
Natalie shook her head.“No.Never heard of it.”
Tom’s jaw flexed.“We’re coordinating with the police.They’ve opened a criminal investigation.”
“Good,” Rylan said, the single word clipped, final.Then he glanced toward the oven, as if determined to break the crushing tension before it could settle in too deep.“Right now, it’s time to eat.”
He pulled two golden frittatas from the oven, steam curling up into the air, filling the room with buttery, savory warmth.“Natalie, will you grab the plates?There’s a bowl of fruit in the fridge.”
Grateful for something—anything—to do, she nodded, though the weight in her chest didn’t lift.
A few minutes later, she sat at the counter with Rylan and his family, the scent of roasted vegetables and eggs between them.She forced herself to focus on the warmth of the food, the clink of forks against plates, the safe, ordinary rhythm of breakfast.
But the thought lodged deep in her mind, immovable and cold.
