“Already done. But Gideon…” Leo’s voice lowered. “You can’t protect her from all of it. Not without her knowing the full picture.”
“I’m not… I’m buying time.”
A pause.
“Time for what?”
Gideon looked at the screen again. Arden’s silhouette was framed by the soft overhead light.
Glowing. Beautiful. Defiant.
He didn’t look away. “To burn it all down.”
Leo didn’t respond immediately. But when he did, there was no doubt in his voice.
“Then we’ll be ready.”
Gideon ended the call and dropped the phone on the desk with hushed finality. His hand moved to the rotation schedule Christian had updated earlier. Without hesitation, he crossed out two names and scribbled in replacements—his best, sharpest detail.
Unseen. Unrelenting.
Let them come.
Let them believe Arden was unprotected.
Let them underestimate the one thing he would kill to defend.
The rules had changed.
And so had the battlefield.
?
Christian Sampson didn’t move, not until she disappeared down the subway steps.
Her gait was steady, her chin lifted, the set of her shoulders told him the pressure had returned.
The same weight she’d carried that night—shattered glass, red petals, and no clear answers.
She didn’t have her car anymore. No repair orders. No update to management. No mention at all.
Which meant one thing:
She didn’t feel safe enough to ask.
Christian exhaled through his nose, the cold biting against his skin. At this point, she didn’t know she was being followed, for protection or otherwise.
And that was a problem.
Because she was.
Gideon had given the order the minute the car was hit. Christian and his team shadowed her now.
Not always visible.
Not always near.
But constant.
