I swipe to the archived footage. Find the timestamps. Photos auto-captured by the surveillance AI. Him arriving. 7:32 PM. Her in the doorway. Red dress. Small smile. Him opening the car door. Gentleman. Them driving away. 7:35 PM.
I scroll forward to the pictures Yuri took. Restaurant. Candlelight. Wine. They're sitting across from each other. He's leaning forward. Talking. Smiling. She's… reserved. Guarded. But she's there. On a date. With him.
My chest constricts. Heart racing one second, stopped the next.
I scroll further. Him touching her hand across the table. Her pulling away. Good. Good. But then—him leaning in closer. Saying something that makes her look down. Vulnerable. No.
More photos. The drive home. Him walking her to the door. Leaning in. Kissing her cheek.
She doesn't pull away.
I throw the tablet. It hits the wall. Doesn't shatter—reinforced glass, Klaus's doing—just bounces off and lands on the floor.
I sit there. Breathing hard. Hands shaking.
So, this is it. She's moved on. Found someone new. Someone handsome and perfect and there. Someone who takes her to nice restaurants and opens car doors and doesn't disappear for two years without a word.
I lost her.
For a moment, I close my eyes. See her face. That smile in the red dress. For him. Not me. But even as the jealousy burns through my chest like acid, even as I want to find that man and put a bullet between his perfect green eyes, even as rage threatens to consume everything rational I have left—I know. I know I'd still fight to keep her safe. Even if she's with someone else. Even if she's forgotten me. Even if I have to watch her build a life with a man who isn't me.
I'd still kill for her. Still die for her. Still protect her.
Even if she's lost to me forever.
Fuck that.
I grab my phone. Dial Yuri. It rings once.
"Boss?" His voice. Careful. He knows something's wrong.
"Why the FUCK," I roar, "did you allow another man close to her?"
Silence. Then: "Boss, you said invisible. You said don't interfere. I—"
"I don't care what I said!" I'm on my feet now, pacing. "There was a man. Black Aston Martin. Took her to dinner. Drove her home. Kissed her. And you just fucking WATCHED?"
"Boss, I—I didn't think—"
"That's the problem. You didn't think." I force myself to breathe. To think. "Who is he?"
"I don't know. First time I've seen him."
"Find out. Now."
"Boss—"
"TAIL HIM!" The words explode out of me. "I want to know everything. Who he is. Where he works. Where he lives. Who he fucks. What he eats for breakfast. EVERYTHING. And I want it in my inbox in the next hour orI'm sending someone to put a bullet in your fucking skull. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, Boss. I understand. I'll—"
I hang up. Throw the phone. It hits the wall beside the tablet.
The door opens. Two guards enter—morning routine, bringing coffee. One holds the cup out. "Boss."
I take it. Drink. Black. Bitter. Perfect.
I set the cup down. Turn to the guard. Cup his cheek. Hard. Fingers digging in. Smile. Manic. Unhinged. "Perfect morning, isn't it?"
