Page 20 of Broken Blades

She reached for another chocolate, unaware. Small. Bright. Out of place in the dark garden.

Something tightened in my chest again. That same sharp, unwanted pull.

I shoved it down hard. This wasn't about her. She was collateral. A means to an end.

But still…

I almost turned back. Almost walked away. Found another path to destruction that didn't involve a twenty-one-year-old girl eating chocolate in a backless dress.

But then I remembered…

Bedroom door swinging open. Her father's shirt half-unbuttoned. My wife's laugh—wrong pitch, wrong context. The wedding ring catching lamplight. His expression. Not guilt. Annoyance.

"Wyatt. This isn't⁠—"

But it was.

The memory burned clean through hesitation.

I stepped forward.

"Most people stick to champagne," I said. "You went straight for chocolate."

She froze mid-chew. Turned slowly. And looked directly at me.

I saw her properly then. Not the image moving through the crowd. Not the backless dress catching light. Not the careful gestures I'd catalogued from across the room.

Her.

Eyes behind the mask—wide, green, uncertain. They searched my face, trying to place me. Recognition hovering just out of reach.

Her mouth soft with surprise, lips parted slightly.

Chocolate smudged on her thumb.

She caught me looking and wiped it quickly against her palm, embarrassment flashing across her features before she locked it down.

Trained response.

Something tightened in my chest again. I ignored it.

"I like chocolate," she said. Defensive. A little sharp.

Good.

I stepped closer—not enough to crowd, just enough to shift the air between us. "I can tell."

Her eyes narrowed slightly. Spark behind the uncertainty. She straightened, chin lifting just enough to matter. Not a coward. I didn't want someone who'd fold the first time things got difficult. Didn't want someone so fragile she'd shatter before Harrington felt the full weight of what I planned.

"Are you hiding?" she asked.

"No." I shifted my weight, let my gaze hold hers. "I'm waiting."

"For what?"

"Opportunity."

The word hung between us, loaded with meaning she couldn't possibly understand.