Kayne didn’t need all of them.He barely made it past the first few photos before his eyes locked on one detail, and everything else fell away.
A chain link.
Small, easy to miss, but completely out of place.Caught near the body as if it were an afterthought.It was the same kind he’d found in Chloe’s office and the stairwell.The same kind that kept surfacing like a signature no one wanted to acknowledge yet.
He and Anja had been careful not to disturb Erickson’s body when they’d found him, which was why they hadn’t seen it then.
Robin Day.Joel Erickson.Chloe.
Kayne lowered the phone slowly.Whoever was doing this wasn’t done.
He stood there for a long moment, rage settling in his bones.Robin hadn’t quit.She’d been silenced.And whoever was doing this wasn’t just circling Chloe anymore.
They were killing their way closer.
#
Chloe stood in themiddle of the gym floor and felt something dangerously close to joy bloom inside her.
Incredible, mind-blowing, life-altering sex had something to do with it, she was sure.But it was also this.The new flooring gleamed beneath the lights.The deep charcoal rubber had a faint satin sheen and was seamless and perfect.It smelled clean and new.Possibility instead of fear.The air felt lighter too.Equipment crates were being hauled in, and the crew was unpacking them with the careful reverence usually reserved for museum artifacts or luxury cars.
Her gym.Really hers.
She walked slowly, fingertips brushing the cool steel of a squat rack to reassure herself it was real.The machines were exactly where she’d envisioned them during too many sleepless nights.The rows were aligned with obsessive precision, cardio near the windows and free weights anchored in front of the mirrors, the heart of the room.It looked purposeful.
“This is insane,” she murmured, half to herself.
Kayne hovered nearby.He wasn’t being obvious, but he was never far.He leaned against a column, his eyes tracking every movement.Yet when she glanced his way, he smiled.Not the guarded one, the soft one that made her insides ache and told her he saw this too and understood what it meant.
She pointed animatedly, directing a crew member to shift a cable machine six inches to the left.“People need space here or they feel crowded.Nobody wants to feel trapped when they’re already gasping for air.”
The man nodded, adjusting without question.
She laughed under her breath.Me, giving orders.Owning this.
For a fleeting moment, the world narrowed to polished equipment, gleaming chrome, and the hum of something finally going right.Her chest lifted with a breath that didn’t feel borrowed or forced.She could almost hear future laughter, music pounding, and bodies moving with strength instead of fear.
This was why she’d fought so hard and hadn’t quit when it would’ve been easier.
Then Kayne’s phone buzzed.
It wasn’t loud or dramatic, but the way his body stilled told her everything.
He turned slightly away, listening.One hand fisted at his side, and the smile vanished from his face.After he disconnected, he read something on his phone.She could tell it wasn’t good news.
“What?”she asked quietly when he finally faced her.
He didn’t answer right away.His eyes searched hers to see how much truth she could take.
“Kayne,” she pressed.
He crossed the distance between them in three strides, lowering his voice.“We need to talk somewhere private.”
They stepped into the office that would be used by the membership manager, the person who would sign up clients, a position she needed to fill sooner rather than later.It was still half-staged, boxes stacked neatly, the glass wall catching reflections of the new gym beyond.She could see the machines.The dream was right there.So close.It felt cruel, being able to see it when she knew something was about to shatter.
Kayne shut the door.
Her pulse kicked up.“What happened?”
