When the lights come back on, she's at the door. Opening it.
He follows. Stops at the threshold. They exchange words.
I switch to the exterior camera. Watch him walk to his car. Get in. Drive away.
"Tail him," I say. Voice flat. Dead. Dangerous.
Yuri nods. Pulls out his phone. Sends the text. Another car—parked further down the street—pulls out and follows the Aston Martin into the night.
"Boss," Viktor says carefully. "What do you want us to do about—"
"Everything," I say. "I want to know everything. Every place he goes. Every person he talks to. Every weakness." Ipause. Voice dropping to a whisper. "And if he touches her again... you come to me first. I want to do it myself."
Silence. Then Yuri: "Understood, Boss."
I switch back to interior. She's on the floor now. Door closed. Locked. Leaning against it. Then sliding down. Curling into herself. Sobbing.
Because she tried. Because she let another man touch her and couldn't feel anything except the absence of the one she actually wants. The one who left her. Me.
My hands stop shaking. The rage cools into something colder. More calculated. More dangerous.
Two years I've been building this. Becoming feared enough that when Klaus dies, I inherit everything. Spilling blood. Breaking bones. Killing without hesitation. Became the monster Klaus wanted.
All to protect her.
And now I'm sitting in a car three houses away watching her cry on her floor because some other man tried to fill the space I left empty. Because she's so lonely she faked an orgasm for a stranger just to feel less alone for five minutes.
Fuck patience. Fuck strategy.
I close the laptop. Set it aside. Lean back. Breathe.
"Boss?" Yuri asks carefully. "Orders?"
I open my eyes. Look at the house. At the windows glowing warm in the suburban night. At the woman inside who's still mine even if she doesn't know it yet.
"We wait," I say.
"How long, Boss?"
I think about his fingers inside her. About her faking moans. About two years of watching from shadows while she broke.
About what I'm going to do to Oliver Sutherland when the time comes.
"Not long," I say quietly.
36
ALENA
"You're right," I say into the phone, stirring the sauce that's already looking suspicious. "I should have sex. It's time."
Lucy's squeal nearly ruptures my eardrum. "OH MY GOD! Finally! Yes! With Oliver?"
"With Oliver." I taste the sauce. Add more salt. "I called him. He's coming over for dinner."
"Dinner?!" Another squeal. "Babe, this is huge! Are you okay? Are you freaking out?"
"I'm—" I look down at myself. Bathed, moisturized, smelling like roses and vanilla. Hair done. Makeup subtle but there. "I'm ready. I spent all day writing. Got the words out. Now I need to get him out."
