Page 25 of Broken Blades

I pushed through the hedge arch into deeper darkness.

The hunt had officially begun.

Chapter 5

Chastity

Winter light bled weak and gray through the curtains. I was warm under blankets, still half-buried in sleep when the door slammed open.

No knock.

No warning.

Just the crack of wood against wall that yanked me upright, heart already hammering.

My father filled the doorway. He never came into my room like this. Never barged in without permission. Never looked at me the way he was looking at me now. Jaw locked tight enough I could see the muscle ticking beneath his skin. Eyes sharp. Cold. Nothing soft in them. Phone gripped in his hand like evidence.

"What's wrong?" My voice came out small. Confused. Sleep still fogging the edges of my thoughts.

He didn't answer. Just crossed the room in three strides and tossed the phone onto my comforter. The screen glowed up at me. Already lit. Already open to something that made his breathing come harder than it should.

I looked down.

The world tilted.

It was me. The garden. The lanterns casting gold across dark hedges. The stone balustrade I'd leaned against.

And him.

The man from last night—masked, broad-shouldered, close enough that the camera made it look like we were fused together.

My stomach dropped so hard I tasted copper. The angle was devastating. My back arched slightly forward, spine curved in a way that looked deliberate. Sensual. Like I was pressing into him rather than bracing against stone.

His body behind mine—so close the lens couldn't catch air between us. Just solid mass and dark fabric and possession.

His head bent near my neck. Not touching. But close enough that it didn't matter. Close enough that anyone looking would assume his mouth had already found skin.

His hand at my zipper. My dress parted down my back, fabric gaping just enough to show bare skin and the shadow of my spine.

My lips parted. Not speaking. Just caught mid-breath in a way that looked like pleasure.

It looked intimate. It looked like foreplay. It looked like I'd snuck into a dark garden with a stranger and let him undress me.

"Dad, I⁠—"

"Don't."

The word came flat. Hard.

I looked up. Found his face carved from stone.

"This is everywhere." His voice stayed controlled. Worse than yelling. Worse than rage. "Sports blogs. Social media. Gossip sites. Someone sent it to the merger team an hour ago."

My hands shook around the phone. "It's not what it looks like."

"Then what is it?"

I opened my mouth. Closed it. How did I explain? My dress caught. The zipper broke. A stranger helped me. It was innocent.