For a beat, the noise of the room seemed to dim around us.
Then Dunn’s eyes shifted. Just once. Over my shoulder. Every instinct I had screamed. I turned—Elise had closed in on Mila.
Elise moved through the crowd as though she owned the air—black dress, red mouth, jet hair pinned with precision, purpose in every step. She stopped directly in front of Mila, too close, invading space with practiced ease.
Elise leaned in, and Mila’s posture went rigid. I saw it instantly—the way panic pulled her features tight, draining the blood from her face as she masked it with politeness. The way her shoulders squared as though she was bracing for impact.
As Elise held out a thick envelope, the room dropped away. My pulse roared in my ears as Mila took it, fingers stiff, unreadable. She opened it. Scanned the first page. And went white.
Pure, blinding rage tore through me.
I started forward without thinking, body already cutting a path through the guests. Donors, board members, predators intailored suits—I shoved past them all. I would tear through every damn one of them to get to her.
Behind me, I felt Dunn’s attention zeroed in, felt the trap snap tight.
Mila looked up.
Her eyes met mine across the room, and something inside her broke open—fear, resolve, apology all tangled together—a decision.
“No,” I breathed, even as my feet kept moving.
Elise leaned in closer, lips brushing Mila’s ear, satisfaction etched into every line of her posture. Adriana stood frozen beside her daughter, emerald dress immaculate, hands shaking just enough to give her away.
I was almost there.
Then Dunn shifted—just enough to enter my peripheral vision. He’d mirrored my path through the room.
Not touching me. Not stopping me. He was issuing a warning.
I halted on instinct, every muscle coiled, fists clenched so hard my palms burned. If I crossed that last distance now, they would make whatever game they were playing ugly. Public. Final.
Across the floor, Mila’s fingers crumpled the pages in her hand. Her mother said something low and urgent. Mila flinched—and then her spine straightened.
I knew this game without even seeing what Elise had handed her. The intent of their play landed. It was to be expected, whatever threat they’d issued would center around the idea that if Mila stayed, she would become leverage. If she walked, she would burn herself to save everyone else.
My chest split open. I never should have given them the opening they’d capitalized on with her.
Across the last bit of distance, I locked eyes with Mila, pouring everything I couldn’t say into my expression. I held her gaze—promise and war. The look that told her this wasn’t the end. That no matter what they forced tonight, I would come for her. For all of them.
Her mouth trembled.
I clocked the major players around me, taking in every nuance of expression, body postures, and ill intent. Dunn watched from the edge of the room, satisfied. Lorne leaned in close to another man, murmuring. Dad’s jaw locked. Claire stared at Mila like she already knew the cost of what was coming.
Mila didn’t move toward me. And I understood. This wasn’t over. It was just beginning. And they’d made one fatal mistake. They’d forgotten she was mine.
CHAPTER ONE
LUKE
One second I was locked in place across the ballroom, calculating angles and consequences, the next I was cutting through silk and tuxedos with a single objective—stop Elise from hurting Mila.
Elise didn’t flinch when I stopped in front of her. Didn’t even act surprised. Up close, her expensive floral perfume reminded me of a toxic poison, infecting everything within.
“Mila’s not your battleground,” I growled quietly.
Elise’s gaze moved past me, deliberately slow, landing on Mila and the crumpled envelope in her hand.
“Oh, Luke.” Her red mouth curved with anticipation, smile deepening. “Too late.”
