“We’re checking, but they moved fast. We haven’t seen them again.”
A fire burns low in my chest. Controlled, but vicious.
“Where was the patrol team?” I ask.
“On the east side,” he says. “They didn’t hear anything.”
“Then they weren’t paying attention.”
He lowers his gaze. He knows I don’t tolerate incompetence. Not now. Not with someone like her behind locked doors.
The idea of a rival syndicate finding her—dragging her out, interrogating her, using her as leverage against me—tightens something in my chest far stronger than anger.
“They were testing the perimeter,” I say quietly.
“Yes, sir.”
“They’re watching us.”
“Yes.”
“They know I brought someone here.”
The man doesn’t answer. He doesn’t have to.
I set the tablet down and stand. The room feels smaller around me, as if the walls are closing in. I take a steady breath and let the calculation settle into place.
“Double the guards,” I say. “Every entry point. Every blind spot. I want eyes on the entire property.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Tighten internal security. No one outside the estate hears about this. Not a word. Not a whisper. Tell Nikolai to keep his guard up and don’t let her out of his sight.”
His expression shifts. Confusion flickers for a moment before he hides it. He knows what it means when I hide someone so completely—not even my closest contacts will know she exists.
“Understood.”
I step closer until he lifts his chin reflexively. He can feel the tension radiating off me.
“If anyone outside this house learns she’s here,” I say, “I’ll hold every one of you responsible.”
He nods quickly. “We won’t let that happen.”
“Good, because if someone tries to take her again, I’m not showing restraint.”
He swallows and backs away.
When he leaves the room, I sit at the edge of the desk and let the anger settle into something colder. Rival syndicates don’t act on impulse. They watched her before I brought her here. They planned her abduction. They saw something in her story they didn’t like—or saw an opportunity and moved fast.
Either way, they won’t stop. They think she’s an easy target. A tool. A pawn.
They think she’s unprotected.
The thought makes my chest tighten again, sharp and unfamiliar.
I walk to the hallway monitor and pull up the feed from her room. She’s sitting on the floor now, her knees pulled to her chest. Her eyes are red from exhaustion, but she isn’t crying. She keeps glancing toward the door, waiting for footsteps, waiting for answers she isn’t going to get yet.
I turn off the feed, jaw still tight. The silence of the house sinks in around me. Heavy. Thick with threat.
