Clair leaned her head against the cool glass of the car window, watching the trees blur past in the early morning light. Her heartbeat had slowed, but her thoughts raced like they were trying to outrun what had happened.
Someone had tried to kill her.
She wasn't a bystander anymore.
She was in the middle of something deep, dangerous, and dark.
And worse? She wasn't sure she hated it.
Austin drove in silence beside her, his jaw locked and eyes on the road. The man radiated tension like a storm cloud about to burst.
"Why didn't you tell me your enemies were watching us that closely?" she finally asked, breaking the silence.
"I didn't think they'd move this soon," he replied.
"That's not good enough."
His fingers tightened on the steering wheel. "You think I don't know that?"
"I think you're used to controlling every situation, and now you're spiraling because you can't predict how this ends."
He shot her a sideways glance.
"And you," he said with calm fury, "have a habit of poking lions when you're already inside their cage."
She smirked. "Better than playing dead."
Their eyes met. And for a moment, it was hard to tell if they were fighting or flirting.
---
Back at the mansion, security had doubled. Armed guards patrolled the gates. Drones hovered above the perimeter. The tension was thick as Austin's men snapped to attention the moment he stepped out of the car.
Clair followed him inside, slower this time.
The plush interior of the mansion didn't feel like a gilded cage anymore—it felt like a fortress.
Safe, but suffocating.
Austin's right-hand man, a sharp-eyed Latino named Marco, approached him with a grim look. "Clean-up crew found the shooter. Blackson mark on the shoulder. Confirmed hit."
Austin nodded once. "No survivors?"
"None."
Marco eyed Clair briefly, then back at Austin. "They sent a message. What do you want to send back?"
Austin's voice turned to steel. "Silence."
Marco nodded and walked away.
Clair watched the exchange with a chill crawling up her spine. "That's it? No retaliation?"
"Oh, there'll be one," Austin said. "But not loud. Not yet. First, we play calm."
"Until what?"
"Until I can break every single one of them quietly."
---
Later, in the master suite, Clair changed out of her dusty clothes from the villa. She was angry. Confused. Frustrated.
And yet, a part of her had never felt more awake.
She came out in fresh jeans and a T-shirt, only to find Austin sitting on the edge of her bed.
Clair crossed her arms. "If you're trying to seduce me with brooding stares, it's not working."
"I'm here to talk."
"Could've knocked."
"I own the place."
She rolled her eyes. "That doesn't mean you own me."
Austin stood, approaching slowly. "I know."
She didn't back up, though her heart pounded. "Then what do you want?"
He looked at her carefully. "You were brave yesterday."
"I was lucky."
"No. You were alert. You didn't freeze. That matters."
Clair blinked at the compliment. "Thanks… I guess?"
Austin stepped even closer, so close she could smell his cologne—leather, spice, and the faintest hint of smoke.
"I've made a lot of enemies," he said. "But I've never had someone like you in the crossfire. I need you to understand what that means."
"I do," she replied softly. "It means I'm vulnerable because I matter to you."
His eyes darkened slightly. "You do."
It was the first time he admitted it outright.
Clair swallowed hard. "That doesn't mean I trust you."
"You don't have to."
They stood in silence, so close she could feel the heat of his body, the tension between them crackling like fire in dry grass.
Then he turned and walked out.
---
Over the next few days, Clair kept to herself—but she wasn't idle.
She found the library and devoured every book on emergency medicine, trauma care, and even combat injuries.
She practiced cooking new recipes in the kitchen, determined to take control of at least one part of her life.
And slowly, the staff started to talk to her—not much, but enough.
She learned that most of them had been with Austin for years. That he paid them triple the industry rate. That no one ever left his employment willingly.
She also learned that no one dared question him.
Except her.
---
By day five, Austin invited her to his private office.
It was massive—glass walls, heavy steel desk, digital maps on one screen and surveillance on another.
He gestured for her to sit.
"I want to show you something," he said.
He pulled up a digital map of the city. Red dots pulsed around different zones.
"These are Blackson territories. And these..." He tapped a few blue dots. "...are mine."
She leaned in, curious despite herself. "Looks like a chessboard."
"It is."
"Are we winning?"
He gave a short smile. "We're not losing."
Clair looked at him. "Why show me this?"
"Because I don't want you blind. If you're staying, you need to know what's at stake."
She narrowed her eyes. "And what if I decide not to stay?"
"I'll still protect you. But you'll always be looking over your shoulder."
She sat back. "You say that like this is my only option."
"It might be."
Clair shook her head. "I need time."
"You have it."
But they both knew time was running short.
---
That night, she dreamed of the villa again—of the garden, the shots, the scream.
She woke in a cold sweat.
And found Austin sitting on the chair across the room, eyes half-closed.
"You stayed?"
He nodded.
"Why?"
"You were crying in your sleep."
She said nothing.
"I'll kill anyone who tries to take you from me," he added, voice low.
She believed him.
But that didn't mean she wanted to belong to a killer.
Even if he only killed to protect her.