“Listen to me,” I say softly. Dangerously calm. “You are not a pawn.”
Her pulse flutters beneath my palm. I feel it. Fast. Fragile.
“You are not leverage. You are not bait. And you are not replaceable.” My thumb shifts slightly, grounding, possessive. “You are the only variable in my life I refuse to lose.”
Her lips part. A shaky inhale.
Before either of us can say more, a sharp ping cuts through the hallway.
My tablet lights up.
PERIMETER ALERT — EASTERN FENCE.
MOVEMENT DETECTED.
Small. Precise. Professional.
My blood goes cold.
Not an accident. Not a drunk guard. Not wildlife. This is a probe—clean and deliberate. Someone testing response time. Mapping blind spots.
Markov.
Too close.
I move without thinking. One step, then another, placing my body between Raelyn and the corridor beyond. My hand comes out, gripping her wrist, pulling her back until she’s flush behind me.
“Stay near me,” I say sharply.
She stiffens. “What—”
“Someone is coming for you.”
Chapter 9 – Raelyn
I spend most of the day feeling watched—not by Konstantin, but by the mansion itself. The halls are too quiet. The security feels too tight. And his warning keeps echoing in my head.
Someone is coming for you.
I try to dismiss it, tell myself it’s just manipulation, an excuse to tighten control. But the haunted look in his eyes this morning wasn’t calculated. It was instinctive. Raw. The kind of look that tells me something has already crossed the line from possibility to certainty.
It terrifies me more than the words ever could.
Every door I pass feels heavier. Every corner too blind. I notice things I didn’t before—the way guards shift when I enter a room, the way conversations stop when I linger too long, the way no one lets me stand with my back unprotected.
I hate it.
Hate the way my body responds anyway.
My nerves stay taut all day, coiled and restless. I jump at the wrong sounds. I hold my breath when I shouldn’t. At one point, I realize I’ve been counting exits without even thinking about it.
I press my hand to my stomach, steadying myself.
You’re not bait.
You’re not leverage.
The words feel thin.