Jack crouched in front of me, bringing himself to my eye level. This close, I could see the fury in his eyes.Could see his previously frozen eyes burning with intensity.
Gone was the cold CEO, the grieving widower. In his place was a man, focused and deadly.
"Listen to me. He's trying to terrify you. To make you feel exposed. He wants you panicked and alone. You are neither." He placed a hand on my knee, the contact firm. "You are in the most secure private residence in this city. You have me. You have resources he can't begin to comprehend. He's a fugitive. We are not."
His certainty was a lifeline, but the terror was a riptide. "You don't know him, Jack. He's clever. He's patient when he wants to be. And more than anything, he hates to lose what he thinks is his."
"He already lost," Jack said, his voice low and fierce. "The moment you walked out that door almost two years ago, he lost. This is the thrashing of a defeated animal. We will handle it."
I sat there, the weight of Carter's proximity settling over me like a lead blanket. The fragile peace we'd built, the story-times, the shared dinners, the unspoken something growing between Jack and me, it felt like a beautiful glass figurine in a room where a hammer had just been swung.
The fear was a living thing, coiling in my gut. But as I watched Jack, a man transformed by threat into a fortress, a tiny, stubborn ember of defiance sparked alongside the fear. Carter had taken my voice, my safety, and years of my life. He had taken Elena's life.He would not take this. Not this fragile, newfound family. Not the man who was looking at me, not with blame, but with a determined resolve.
This time, I wasn't trapped in a car with a monster. This time, I was in a fortress with a different kind of man, one who had just declared, with fire in his eyes, that I belonged to him.
And the terrifying, thrilling part was that in that moment of absolute peril, I wanted nothing more than for it to be true.
My phone buzzed again on Jack's desk, where he'd set it. We both looked at it. Another message lighting up the screen.
Unknown Number
Soon.
Jack picked up the phone. And with a deliberate, controlled violence, he powered it off and dropped it in his desk drawer, slamming it shut.
"He doesn't get to reach you anymore." His voice was granite. "From now on, he goes through me."
14.Jack
The penthouse had transformed into a command center within the hour.
The sense of violation was profound. Carter had been in my home, not physically, but his thoughts, his threats, had been delivered to my doorstep, wrapped in a mockery of my wife's memory. The vengefulness that had been my constant companion for two years was back, but it was different this time. More focused. Laced with a primal fear I hadn't felt since the night the police came to my door to announce Elena’s passing.
James arrived first, his detective's badge getting him past building security, I'd already placed on high alert. He was followed by two men in dark tactical clothing; they were private security consultants from a firm my company retained for extreme executive protection. They moved with quiet, assessing efficiency.
"We're sealing this place up," James saidwithout preamble, his eyes scanning the open floor plan like he was memorizing angles of attack. "He knows the address. He's made contact. He is escalating."
Anna stood by the kitchen island, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. She looked small and shattered, watching the intrusion of grim-faced professionals into the space we'd just begun to make warm. Her fingernails dug into her palms, leaving small crescents in her skin.
"This is my fault." Her voice was barely a whisper. She gestured at the security team with a trembling hand. "I should go. I'll draw him away from here, from you and Daisy. I'll?—"
"No." The word came from James and me in unison, sharp as a whip crack.
James approached her, his demeanor shifting from detective in action to something gentler. He looked at her like she'd suggested jumping off the balcony. "He'll hunt you in the open, Anna. That's what he wants. You, alone, exposed and vulnerable. Here, he has to go through walls. Through us. You protectthemby staying."
"He's right," I said, moving closer. My voice left no room for argument. "You're not a liability. You're a member of this household under threat. We protect our own."
When did I start feeling so strongly about her safety?I was slightly surprised by my own protectiveness
I'd spent two years blaming her, nine monthssurveilling her, and now I was claiming her as family? The whiplash should have given me pause. It didn't. Because standing here, watching her try to martyr herself for Daisy's safety, I realized the transformation was complete. I wasn't protecting a silent witness anymore.
Anna's eyes met mine, wide with terror and the desperate need to believe my words. The need to trust.
The security team got to work. Their actions were methodical and invasive. Power tools screaming. Metal plates bolted into doorframes with brutal efficiency. Cameras mounted at angles I'd never considered vulnerable. Each installation was a reminder: Someone was coming.
The lead consultant, Vance, a former Secret Service agent with a scar bisecting his left eyebrow, showed me the panic room. A reinforced closet in the master suite I'd had installed during construction and never thought I'd need. The door was steel disguised as wood. The interior had water, a satellite phone, and a first aid kit.
"If it comes to it," Vance said, his voice professionally neutral, "you get your daughter and Miss Stewart in here. Lock it. Don't open it for anyone but law enforcement with proper identification."
