Gideon set his pen down—calm, but final. “Stay away from her.”
“Careful,” Alex said lightly. “You’re starting to sound attached.”
There it was.
The pressure point. The invitation to crack.
Gideon said nothing.
Alex leaned back, arms wide, the picture of careless confidence. “Beautiful things don’t last here, brother. Not in this family. They either break… or get carved into something unrecognizable. You’ve seen it happen.”
A flicker passed through Gideon’s jaw.
Seen it?
He’d survived it.
Alex smiled like he knew. Like he’d put the blade there himself.
But Gideon didn’t rise to it. He sat still, composed, every breath pulled through a sieve of willpower.
“You always were the fun one,” Alex mused, standing. “Well, don’t let me interrupt… whatever this is.”
He lingered at the door, tossing the comment behind him.
“Always a pleasure.”
The door clicked closed.
Only then did Gideon move—pushing back from the desk, jaw tight, muscles coiled like live wire.
He turned toward the window, to the city spread out below.
Not to find calm.
To remember what he was fighting for.
And who he was willing to burn it all down for.
Gideon turned from the window.
The city stretched below—his sanctuary. But tonight, it felt less like something he owned, and more like something bearing down on him.
His world was built on careful control. Calculated moves. Silent wars.
And the people in this family never stopped pushing.
Evelyn. Miriam. Alex.
All of them, in their own way, tested the seams of his restraint. He reached for his jacket and rolled his shoulders in a futile attempt to reduce the tension that had settled into his back.
Somewhere below, the Blackwell Room pulsed with music and murmured deals.
A different kind of battlefield.
He wasn’t looking for a fight tonight.
But then he saw Colton.
