The irony almost amused him.
For all their confidence, all their carefully layered systems and protocols, none of them had realized the breach. Perhaps even now they were scratching their heads.
His fingers flexed lightly against the glass. That part pleased him. What didn’t, the interruption afterward. The pursuit prevented him from watching the show.
Now that they understood how easily he could reach through the cracks, they were tightening the circle, containing her. Julia would no longer be reachable in ordinary ways.
Keeping him away from what belonged to him.
That thought stirred a dark, possessive instinct inside him.
His gaze shifted briefly toward his reflection in the window. He smoothed his features into exactly what the world expectedto see. But underneath, the pressure had started building. Soon it would be roiling, but that was to his benefit. Pressure had always forced clarity. It stripped away distractions until only instinct remained.
The rules had changed now. Mostly prompted by him. It meant the process would need to change with them.
He looked out over the city, recalculating movement patterns and access points automatically. If Julia herself was no longer accessible, the protection surrounding her became the vulnerability.
His mouth curved slightly. Not a smile, much colder.
They thought they’d made her safe. What they’d really done was turn her into a challenge that demanded resolution. He’d always been good at games and puzzles. Winning came easily. This time would be no different.
He pushed away from the window, already making adjustments in his head. Already adapting. Because this wasn’t over yet. Not even close.
They’d taken access, proximity, and placed barriers between them.
For that, Julia would pay.
Chapter 22
They barely spoke during the drive. The silence wasn’t hostile. That would’ve been easier. Instead, it was thick with things she no longer knew how to define.
Julia had convinced herself that whatever existed between them ended months ago. Leland had made sure of that. Except lately he kept doing things that didn’t fit. Stepping in, taking over, making decisions for her as though he had the right to. Looking at her with flashes of something that wasn’t strictly professional before shutting down again.
It didn’t make sense. And it made everything worse.
Was it guilt? Responsibility? Concern for someone he still considered part of Devil’s Pointe, despite her walking away?
It couldn’t be more than that. Could it?
Julia shifted in her seat and watched the city slide past her window in streaks of headlights and neon reflections. Downtown traffic slowly gave way to quieter streets, the buildings thinning until the road widened beneath thick canopies of palms and sprawling trees draped in moss.
The farther they drove, the more secluded everything became. She saw privacy walls, iron gates, long drives hidden behind dense landscaping. This wasn’t the secluded cabin she had imagined. It smelled of salt, sand, and money.
She watched Leland from the corner of her eye. He had both hands fixed on the wheel, his attention constantly moving. Mirrors, intersections, passing vehicles. She glanced in her mirror. Were they being followed?
After several minutes of seeing nothing, she looked his way again. The muscles beneath his black T-shirt shifted every time he turned the wheel, tattoos rippling under the streetlights before disappearing into the shadows again. He hadn’t relaxed once since they left headquarters. For her, it had been much longer than that.
The SUV turned again, driving deeper into one of the residential streets and stopping in front of a modern home partially hidden behind palms and thick hedges. Not massive or flashy but private.
When Leland killed the engine, she dipped her head and looked through the windshield at the house. Dark stone, tall windows, lighting illuminating the clean lines and shadowed angles. It looked designed for a man who trusted security more than comfort.
Realization hit. “This is your house.”
His gaze met hers. “Yes.”
Her pulse tripped. A safe house would’ve been impersonal. Neutral. This was… intimate.
Leland was already out of the vehicle before she could decide what to do with the sudden rush of emotion swelling in her chest. Cry. Laugh. Scream at him. Any of those felt likely right now.
