Sage frowns. "Yeah. Shooting or stabbing a billionaire in the middle of a signing ceremony? That'll go down well. People don't know what he is, Kayden. You wouldn't just have Darius on you, you'd have the police. The press. Everyone. That wouldn't help us."
His gaze narrows. "Funny how defensive you get when the subject is killing him."
I step in before it escalates. "Sage is right. A public strike isn't an option. Not for us. Not for him. It's neutral ground. Unless he's willing to reveal himself."
"So, we should go?" Sage asks.
"Not you, wifey. You stay home. You're the key to this," Kayden cuts in.
I hesitate. He's not wrong. If they get Sage, everything else collapses.
But she flares, eyes sharp. "No way. I'm not going to sit here locked up. That's not how this works. I'm not some princess in a tower, and I won't play that role."
Kayden steps closer, jaw tight. "Oh, you are aprincess. Running from your not-so-charming prince. And you're staying here. I'll chain you in the basement if I have to."
Sage steps into him, unflinching. "You won't dare."
"Watch me, sunshine." His hand closes over hers.
She rips free, her words sharper than the motion. "If you do this, you're no better than him."
Kayden freezes like she struck him.
I move between them, my tone cutting clean. "We will all go."
Kayden's mouth opens, but I turn on him before he can argue. "We stay with her the entire time. Tomas, Donna, the others will be there too. Sage is right, locking her away only weakens us. If she stays behind, we split our forces, and that leaves the house exposed. He could strike here while we're gone."
"Then we don't go at all," Kayden mutters, but there's no conviction behind it.
"He wants that," I answer, voice steadying. "Division. Fear. That's how he works. I know the type. We don't let him dictate the field. We show up together and we don't back down."
Reluctant, Kayden shrugs. Sage nods, calmer now, her fire banked but not gone.
"This is a risk," I admit. "A minefield. But I've walked worse."
"Then we dress sharp," Sage says. "If it's a battle, we go prepared."
A rare smile tugs at my mouth. "Oh, we will. Every battle has its uniform. This one happens to be tuxedos and gowns."
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Sage
The Bright estate is lit up like it's trying to outshine the stars—floodlights, garlands, fountains. Cars snake up the drive, polished and gleaming, their passengers dressed to kill, handing off keys to valet boys in pressed uniforms. The fountain at the garden's center sprays colored arcs of water while speakers play some orchestral piece too dramatic for what this event is. Old money on full display, gaudy as hell.
The mayor calls itpersonal, hosting here instead of town offices. But everyone with half a brain knows the truth—he wants to tie himself to Darius Hawthorn and this deal. Harlan Bright, the eternal candidate. Every move calculated with reelection in mind. Disgusting, if it weren't so predictable. And Darius, of course, knows exactly how to make him dance.
So here we are. Armed, polished, playing our roles. We step out of the cars together, Donna meeting us since this is her home.
Asher offers me his hand as I climb out, and then the two brothers flank me like twin shadows as we move toward the lights. Behind us, Winston, Jace, Tomas, Astrid, and Eira follow. Winston even closed the bar again for this, muttering he wasn'tabout to let us face "the damn rich bastard" without him. I hate that it costs him business, but he made his choice without hesitation.
Kayden leans in close, palm settling on the bare line of my back. "Still not sure if I want to cover you with my jacket," he growls low, "or rip that dress off completely."
It's literally his hand on skin. Donna made sure of that.
She personally barred anyone else from choosing my dress, declaring, "If Astrid picked, you'd end up in plain steel armor." Even with her hands full preparing for the event, she found time to drag something out of her seamstress on a rush order. What she chose… well, armor it is not.
Inky black silk that clings and flows like water, the back plunging down to my tailbone, thin crisscross straps barely holding it in place. A deep V cut in the front, stopping at my ribs, sheer panel hidden beneath for support. A high slit, a silver clasp at the hip shaped like a leaf, the latter detail Donna's personal touch hinting at my nature.
