This isn't over.
I will find a way out.
I have to.
Because the alternative—marriage to Prescott, life as a broodmare for Sentinel, whatever that means—is worse than death.
As sleep finally claims me, dragging me under with heavy hands, my last thought is of Paul.
Where is he?
Does he know what's happening?
Will he come before it's too late?
I can only hope.
For now, it's all I have left.
SEVENTEEN
Paul: Guardian HRS
The fire cracklesin the hearth, its warm glow a stark contrast to the turmoil in my chest. Outside, the first signs of spring are emerging in the Swiss Alps. Patches of green peek through the thinning snow, a world awakening from its long slumber. But my thoughts are far from this peaceful transition.
Two months. Two agonizing months since I last saw Vivianne, our stolen moment at her engagement party cut brutally short. The memory haunts me—her lips on mine, the spark of hope in her eyes, and then... gone. Whisked away by her father calling in the distance.
I slam my fist into my open palm, the sharp sting a welcome distraction from the regret gnawing at my gut. I should have taken her at that damn engagement party, consequences be damned. Now she's trapped, and I'm left pacing, helpless.
"You'll wear a hole in that rug if you keep that up." Merlin's gruff voice cuts through my brooding.
I turn to face him, frustration bubbling up. "We're running out of time."
"I know, son. But we can't rush in half-cocked. The Faulks estate is a fortress now." He sighs, setting down the book he's been pretending to read.
I pace the length of the room, my footsteps echoing off the wood-paneled walls. "You think I don't know that? I've flown back and forth from here to the States more times than I can count. And each time, it's worse."
My mind flashes to my last reconnaissance mission. The sprawling grounds of the Faulks estate, once merely guarded, now bristle with activity.
"There are men everywhere. Armed patrols circling around the clock. They've installed motion sensors and infrared cameras. I wouldn't be surprised if they have satellite surveillance at this point."
I run a hand through my hair. "I've broken into museums, for Christ's sake. Swapped out priceless paintings under the noses of the world's best security. But this?" I shake my head. "I can't even get within a hundred yards of the main house without tripping a dozen alarms."
My fist connects with the mantle, pain shooting through my knuckles. "We should never have let her go back there. I had her in my arms, Merlin. Right there. And I let her slip away."
"And what would you have done?" His eyebrow arches. "Kidnapped her in front of half of New York's elite?"
"She was in my arms. I held her. I kissed her."
His weathered hand grips my shoulder, both comforting and restraining. "Paul, my boy, you can't lose sight of the bigger picture."
A muscle twitches in my jaw. "Vivianne is the bigger picture."
"Is she?" His eyes narrow, his voice taking on that lecturing tone I've heard countless times. "What about the Swan? What about everything we've worked for?"
The pendant. Of course. That damned piece of jewelry that's caused so much grief. "To hell with the pendant."
His grip tightens. "If you had taken Vivianne at the engagement party, we'd have lost any chance of locating the Swan. Not to mention, any hope of recovering it would be gone."
