“What.”
Lucien smiles, as he continues. “That everyone’s terrified to touch you.” He pauses. “Everyone except me.”
My instinct shifts, not fear—focus.
“You really think you’re special?” He chuckles, low, pleased with himself. My jaw tightens, and he sees it. Of course he sees it. “Thinking you’re smarter than me.” His voice drops, intimate and lethal. “That usually doesn’t go unpunished.”
A quiet smile. Deadly.
He leans in, so close I can smell the expensive cologne over the rot beneath it. “I always know when my dogs start digging tunnels.”
My spine goes rigid.
Lucien’s smile widens—he lives for this. “And you, Kasien, you’ve been digging.”
I reach instinctively toward my belt. Lucien notices, and raises his glass like a toast.
“Relax.” A soft laugh. “If I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t have made it past the door tonight.”
My pulse slows. Not calming, but calculating. Suddenly my phone vibrates in my pocket.
“Check your phone, Kas.” It feels like it’s burning through the fabric. Lucien’s voice is gentle in a way that makes my stomach twist. “You really thought you could play me?” A slow shake of his head.
My hand slides into my pocket. I unlock the phone. And everything in my chest turns to stone.
A photo. Me and Kiara. In my old car. Six years ago. Her smile soft, mine unguarded. A moment no one was ever supposed to know existed.
Lucien watches the blood drain from my face with pure delight.
“You thought I don’t know every fucking detail about you?” His whisper curls around my throat like piano wire. “Kas.” He clicks his tongue.
Panic takes over me as I look for Kiara. The moment the photo registers, my body stops belonging to me. Everything inside me collapses into raw instinct.
She’s gone.
No. This is not happening.
He fucking knew, this whole time. He was just fucking with me.
I scan the whole room. She’s not here.
“Where is she,” I grit out, getting in Lucien’s face, ready to tear his mouth open with my hands.
“She may be still alive but I can’t promise you anything, Viktor just got out of prison, so—”
I don’t wait for him to finish, and I detonate out of the ballroom. The music bleeds behind me. Laughter. Crystal glasses clinking. They all blend into a single muffled roar as I sprint toward the staircase, taking the steps three at a time. My vision tunnels. My throat tightens.
Fuck. Please don’t.
Please. Please. Please.
Every door I slam open ricochets through the hall like a gunshot. Each empty room makes my pulse spike, my stomach twist harder. No signs of a fight. No signs of her. Just silence that feels like a countdown.
Please. Please don’t.
I hit the second floor. Another hallway. Then—Michael. He’s lying at the top of the stairs, neck snapped at an unnatural angle, eyes glassy. Still warm. My breath tears out of me.
No. No. No.
