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“There were multiple hits on the citywide sweep,” Vale said, voice tight. Too tight. “You were right.”

My body went still.

“We flagged three unknown tails within six blocks of New Abaddon City Coffee, two more near the tower, and one vehicle parked along Rose Street with forged tower clearance.” Vale kept talking. “They aren’t watching the coffee shop. They’re watching her.”

The bond flared hard enough to steal my breath, instinctively reaching for her.

My mouth went dry. “Where is she now?”

“Moving east. On foot.”

“Why is she on foot?”

“I don’t know.”

Wrong answer.

My nightmares punched through the room. The lights flickered. The far window cracked from floor to ceiling with a thin, glittering sound.

“She told me to stay away,” I said, mostly to myself, and the words came out rough enough to draw blood. “She told me to stay away,” I said, taking a grounding breath.

“She’s surrounded, Lux.”

That did it. I crossed the room and grabbed the mask, but not for her. Liv had seen my face. Olivia Heart had stood in my room and found the man beneath the monster.

The mask was no longer for my mate. The mask was for everyone else. My assassin still had use. The city feared what it didn’t understand, and most people who saw that expressionless black mask never got another sunrise to describe it. Fear moved faster than armies.

I shoved a gun into the back of my waistband, grabbed another from the bedside table, and strode for the private elevator with the mask hanging from one hand.

“I want all feeds,” I said.

“Already working on—” His voice froze mid-sentence.

“What?”

“Nothing, sir, just a glitch.”

“If she loses one drop of blood before I reach her, start drafting obituaries for everyone south of Meridian.”

Vale’s voice went quieter. “Understood.”

The elevator doors opened. I stepped inside and punched the lobby key hard enough to crack the panel. The descent felt too slow.

Sixty-four floors of silent glass and steel between me and the woman I had broken by trying to keep her safe. My reflection stared back from the elevator wall. White hair a mess. Red eyes raw. Blood on my throat from a cut I didn’t remember getting.

She had touched this face. My real one. Had kissed me with anger and trust still tangled under her skin. Had looked at me like I’d ruined something sacred and proved every awful thing she had feared about wanting me.

Now the city had smelled blood in the water.

The elevator dropped past floor twelve. “Come on,” I muttered. The doors opened on the lobby. Noises hit first. A woman’s voice, sharp with panic. Security boots on marble. A man laughing under his breath.

Scarn stood at the front desk in a charcoal coat, one elbow propped on the counter, his pale hair slicked back from a face built for old portraits and public executions. He smiled at the desk attendant like he had all morning to ruin her day.

The front desk woman had one hand beneath the counter, likely reaching for the silent alarm already flashing red across every guard’s comm.

“Sir,” she said, voice shaking, “this area requires clearance.”

Scarn sighed. “Does it?”