The safehouse loft had gone quiet hours ago. Jacqueline’s visit lingered like smoke in the air, heavy and unresolved. Erick hadn’t spoken more than three words since she left. He sat on the worn leather couch in the corner, elbows on his knees, staring at nothing. Sleep refused to come. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw fragments—his father’s smile, Jacqueline’s ultimatum, Dominique’s cold betrayal, and now Remi’s fierce gaze during their interrupted kiss.Remi emerged from the small back room, barefoot and wrapped in a blanket. The single bulb above the table had been turned off, leaving only the faint glow of a laptop screen on standby. She crossed the room silently and stopped a few feet away.“You’ve been silent ever since she left,” she said softly.Erick didn’t look up. “Old ghosts.”Remi hesitated, then sat on the edge of the couch beside him. The cushions dipped under her weight. “Talk to me, Erick. Or Quade. Whoever you are right now.”He finally lifted his head and met h

Remi searched his face, her hand still clasped tightly in his. The shift in him was mesmerizing and terrifying all at once. One moment, he was the man who had gently wiped her tears; the next he was calculating every move like a chess grandmaster who had already seen the endgame.Aria leaned back from her laptop, arms crossed. “You’re serious. You want to walk back into that mansion.”“Not want,” Erick corrected. “Need. Dominique’s message is a trap wrapped in desperation. She’s losing control of the narrative. If I go back as the broken, submissive husband, they’ll lower their guard. They’ll talk. They’ll make mistakes. And I’ll be right there to record every word.”Ivan checked the magazine in his pistol, then slid it back into place with a sharp click. “I don’t like it. Too many variables. Michel’s unstable. Martin’s got federal strings. One wrong look and they might just shoot you on sight and call it self-defense.”“They won’t,” Erick said. “Not yet. I still haven’t signed the di

The warehouse echoed with the wet sound of fists meeting flesh.Erick’s body jerked violently with every blow. Blood dripped steadily from his nose and split lip, staining the concrete beneath his bare feet. His ribs screamed with every breath. A deep cut above his left eye blurred his vision with red.But when the next guard stepped back to catch his breath, Erick lifted his head and laughed—a raw, broken sound that echoed off the metal walls.Leroy narrowed his eyes. “Something funny, boy?”Erick grinned through bloody teeth. “You… you’re still using this fucking tactic. Beating the shit out of someone in a warehouse. How original.” He coughed, spitting blood. “Five years, and you still think pain works better than brains. Pathetic.”Leroy’s jaw tightened. He gestured sharply.Another fist slammed into Erick’s stomach. He doubled over as far as the chains allowed, gasping.The side door banged open.Michel stormed in, face flushed with rage, followed closely by Martin Clarke. Both m

Erick woke to the sharp smell of antiseptic and the steady beep of machines.His body felt like it had been run over by a truck. Every breath sent fire through his ribs. His wrists were bandaged where the chains had cut into them. A dull throb pulsed behind his eyes. He tried to sit up, but a firm hand pressed gently against his chest.“Don’t move,” Jacqueline said softly.She sat in a chair beside the hospital bed, looking exhausted but alert. Her long black hair was tied back, and her eyes were red from crying. The private room was dimly lit, with heavy curtains drawn and two armed men stationed outside the door.Erick’s voice came out hoarse. “Where…?”“Safe house hospital. My people control this wing. Leroy’s men won’t find you here.” She brushed a strand of hair from his forehead with surprising tenderness. “You were nearly gone when I found you. Another hour and…”A knock sounded on the door.“Come in,” Jacqueline called.A middle-aged doctor in a white coat entered, tablet in h