The London rain was a relentless, icy drizzle that blurred the neon lights of the city into smears of grey and neon blue. I stood on the balcony of the Watson penthouse in Mayfair, the cold air biting at my skin. I didn't care. The cold was nothing compared to the irritation burning in my gut.
I was three thousand miles away from the Black Box. I was three thousand miles away from the scent of Jay's hair and the sound of Astraea's chaotic "Gah!"
"Boss, the feed is live." Erdix spoke from inside the room, his fingers flying across a portable server rig.
I turned, my charcoal suit jacket discarded on the chair. I rolled up my sleeves, revealing the scars on my forearms—reminders of a life I had hoped to leave behind, but one that always came calling.
01:00 AM: The Interrogation
We weren't in a boardroom. We were in a soundproofed basement of one of my London shipping hubs. Denzel stood by the door, his arms crossed, his expression as stone-cold as mine. In the center of the room, tied to a heavy steel chair, was the man responsible for the breach—a mid-level distributor named Sterling who thought he could skim from the Watson line and sell to the Russian syndicate.
I walked toward him, my footsteps echoing on the concrete. I didn't yell. I didn't need to. The "Monster" didn't scream; he simply existed, and that was usually enough to break a man.
"Mr. Watson... please," Sterling stammered, his face a mess of sweat and tears. "I was pressured. They threatened my family."
I leaned down, my face inches from his. "You mention family?" I whispered, my voice a low, lethal vibration. "I left my wife—who is currently recovering from a surgery that almost took her life—and my infant daughter to come here and deal with you. You didn't just steal my cargo, Sterling. You stole my time."
I grabbed his chin, my grip tight enough to bruise. "Where is the shipment?"
"I... I don't know! The Russians took it to the docks at Pier 49!"
I shoved him back, the chair rattling. I pulled out my phone and sent a one-word text to Rory back in Manila: [TRACKER-ACTIVE].
"Denzel," I said, wiping my hands with a silk handkerchief. "Clean this up. Hand him over to the local authorities once he's 'talked' to the accountants. I want every cent back."
03:00 AM: The Raid
The docks were a labyrinth of shipping containers and shadows. I stood on a crane platform, looking down through a pair of thermal goggles.
"Target spotted, Boss," Erdix's voice crackled in my earpiece. "Six hostiles. They're loading the crates onto a private freighter."
"Move in," I commanded.
I didn't stay on the crane. I dropped down, moving through the shadows with a silence that would have made Alexander proud. I didn't use a gun; I used a tactical blade. Within four minutes, the six men were on the ground. I stepped over them, my boots clicking on the wet metal of the freighter's deck.
I pried open the lead crate. Inside wasn't drugs or weapons. It was the high-end medical technology Jay had requested for her new clinic—equipment that was supposed to save lives.
My eyes turned a dark, stormy grey. These men hadn't just stolen from the Watson Empire; they had stolen from Jay.
"Burn the freighter," I said into the comms. "But save the crates. I want them on a private jet to Manila by sunrise."
05:00 AM: The Withdrawal
I sat in the back of the black Rolls Royce, heading back to the penthouse. My knuckles were bruised, and there was a small cut on my cheek, but the "business" was concluded. The London branch was terrified, the Russians were retreating, and the cargo was safe.
But as I looked out at the London Eye through the rain-streaked window, I felt a hollow ache in my chest.
I pulled out my phone and opened the hidden folder. I scrolled through the videos: Astraea crawling toward Jay's medical bag; Alexander doing his ninja rolls; Jay laughing as she tried to feed me a piece of cake.
I hit the dial button. It was nearly noon in the Philippines.
The screen flickered to life. Jay was in the garden, her hair tied back in a messy bun, Astraea sitting in her lap covered in what looked like mud.
"Hubby," Jay smiled, though her eyes immediately narrowed as she saw my face. "You have a cut on your cheek. Did a 'meeting' get out of hand?"
"The chair was stubborn," I rumbled, my voice softening instantly. "Is she behaving?"
"Pa-pa!" Astraea shrieked, seeing me on the screen. She lunged forward, smearing a muddy hand across the camera lens.
"She's been 'protecting' the garden from the koi fish," Jay laughed, wiping the screen. "We miss you, Keifer. The house is too quiet. Percy is complaining that I'm making him do actual security patrols."
"Tell Percy if he stops, I'll double his patrol hours when I get back," I said. I leaned closer to the screen, my voice dropping. "I'm coming home, Jay. I'm done here. I'm taking the jet in two hours."
"Hurry back, my Monster," Jay whispered, her eyes filled with that "Savage" love that kept me grounded. "I have a bottle of expensive wine and a very long list of things I want you to do to me."
"I'll be there in twelve hours," I promised, my heart finally stopping its restless thumping. "Stay safe, wifey."