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He must have left. Taken Delaney with him. Maybe he found her before Cain could reach her and dragged her out whether she understood the danger or not. That would be classic Samson. No discussion. Just action first, even if it’s violent.

But Cain said Delaney was being taken care of.

My stomach twists.

Being taken care of.

It means a dozen things depending on the context. Money changing hands. A scandal buried. A witness frightened. A body moved. A woman silenced. A son corrected.

Most often though…

I can’t think of it. Samson and I have our issues, for sure, but if he cares about this woman, I don’t want to see her harmed. Even if he is her weakness.

Maybe Samson and Delaney got away before Cain could get to them.

I force myself to slow as the gates of Vexley House come into view.

I park and head into the house.

A maid passes with her arms full of linens and drops her gaze when she sees me. I barely notice her until she’s gone.

Then I think of Ella.

Ella in her room.

Ella standing too close.

Ella looking at me like I mattered…and then like I slapped her coldly when I left abruptly.

Ella’s body under mine, her pussy gloving my dick…

I walk to the west wing, push into my office, and shut the door harder than necessary.

I cross to my desk, toss my phone onto the blotter, and brace both hands on the edge of the wood.

For one second, I let myself feel it.

The panic.

The anger.

The sick, cold pressure of not knowing.

Samson is gone.

Delaney is gone.

Cain knows more than he said.

My father may know everything.

And I have no idea whether my brother is protecting the woman he loves, being hunted with her, or both.

I close my eyes.

Breathe.

Once.