Alaric’s grip tightened on the wheel as understanding settled into his gut. Whatever had started here hadn’t triggered alarms because it hadn’t needed to. The threat wasn’t loud. It was personal. It was moving through channels designed to look ordinary until it was too late tostop.
He accelerated.
They were already late.
Not in minutes.
In consequences.
Because whatever waited inside wasn’t waiting at all. It had already begun.
And nothing that followed would leave them unchanged.
Chapter 9
REBECCA KNEW SOMETHINGwas wrong before Vidar Johnson ever spoke toher.
She stood near the edge of the main atrium, tablet hugged to her chest, watching people move through Severin Holdings as they always did. Assistants crossed marble floors with practiced efficiency. Security nodded politely. Someone laughed near the elevators. Everything was normal enough to be surreal.
Rebecca told herself she was imagining things. She’d been doing that a lot lately.
“Rebecca.”
She turned.
Vidar Johnson stood a few feet away, hands loosely clasped behind his back, expression mild. He wore charcoal today, tailored and understated, the kind of suit that made men look trustworthy without trying. His inky hair was immaculate. His posture relaxed. His black gaze calm and authoritative. Helooked like someone who belonged exactly where hewas.
“Mr. Johnson,” she said, managing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I didn’t realize you were in today.”
“I make it a point to be around,” he replied pleasantly. “People do their best work when they understand they’re replaceable. It makes them work with fewer mistakes.”
Replaceable.
The word hit her low and hard, aphysical thing. Her stomach tightened, breath catching for half a second before she forced it steady.
Did he meanshewas replaceable? Her job? Her place here? After everything she’d done, every late night, every favor quietly granted because it was asked in his name? She’d been useful. Careful. Loyal. Surely he wasn’t talking abouther.
Or maybe that was exactly what he meant.
He gestured toward the stairwell that curved along the atrium wall, elegant and open, ashowpiece more than a necessity. “Walk with me?”
It wasn’t a question.
Rebecca nodded anyway and fell into step beside him, her heels clicking softlyagainst the stone. Her pulse throbbed in her throat, too fast for such a mundane moment.
“I wanted to thank you,” Vidar continued, his tone conversational. “For your discretion.”
Her fingers tightened around the tablet. “I was just doing my job.”
“And doing it well,” he said warmly, much to her relief. “Not everyone would’ve known when they’d done enough.”
Her stomach dipped, then steadied.
For a heartbeat, relief slipped in. “Done enough” meant finished. Contained. It meant she’d accomplished what he wanted, what had been required of her. And if Vidar Johnson had deemed it enough, then it couldn’t be questioned. It was justified. She’d simply done what was asked.
Then the phrase turned over in hermind.
At first done enough sounded like praise, like the tidy end of a task. Do the work. Close the door. Go back to your desk and pretend you’ve never seen what you’ve seen. Or worse, read what you shouldn’t haveread.
