Eva

17

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Morning light streams through the towering glass windows of Dominic’s penthouse, illuminating the remnants of last night’s chaos with a harsh, sterile glow. It feels unreal, like a nightmare I haven’t shaken off, but the ache in my shoulders and the faint bruises on my arms tell a different story. This was no dream.

I glance at Dominic. He stands near the security panel, phone pressed to his ear, every inch of him tense. His voice is clipped, each word delivered with the precision of a scalpel. He’s immaculate in his tailored suit, the picture of control, but the disheveled mess of his hair betrays the sleepless night he’s endured.

“Double the security detail,” he snaps into the phone. “Every access point monitored, every visitor logged. No one gets through without my approval.”

The call ends with a decisive click, the finality echoing through the quiet room. He turns to me, and his piercing blue gaze is sharper than I’ve ever seen it.

“This ends now,” he says, his voice cold and resolute, the promise of retribution embedded in every syllable.

I cross my arms, refusing to back down under the weight of his intensity. “Do you think locking me in here like a prisoner is going to solve anything?”

He strides toward me, each step deliberate, his presence an immovable wall of authority. “It’s not about solving it, . It’s about keeping you alive.”

“And you think a few more guards will do that?” I challenge, my voice trembling despite my effort to steady it. “Last night, someone waltzed through your security like it was nothing.”

His jaw flexes, the tension radiating from him like a storm ready to break. For a moment, I think he’ll snap, but then he exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his already tousled hair.

“You’re not leaving,” he says, his tone final. “Not until I know it’s safe.”

I want to argue, to demand he stop treating me like something fragile he can tuck away, but the truth catches in my throat. I am scared—of the person who almost killed me, of what they’ll try next, of how close they came to succeeding.

“I’m not saying I want to walk into the line of fire,” I say, forcing my voice to hold steady. “But we can’t hide forever. We need answers.”

His gaze narrows, and his voice hardens. “We’ll get them. But we’ll do it my way. I’m going to confront Mercer.”

A knot tightens in my stomach. “And what?” I ask, incredulous. “Demand he hand over his secrets? You think he’ll just confess and hand you everything you need to take him down?”

“He won’t have a choice,” Dominic says, his voice low and menacing.

I study him carefully, noting the dangerous edge in his tone, the way his eyes darken. He’s walking a razor-thin line, and I’m not sure which side he’ll land on.

“And if you’re wrong?” I ask softly.

His gaze flickers—just for a moment—and I know the thought has already crossed his mind.

“Then I’ll be ready,” he says, each word steely with conviction.

Later That Day

While Dominic buries himself in meetings and calls with Adrian, I pour myself into the whistleblower’s files. It’s the only thing keeping me from unraveling. I need to feel useful, to prove I’m more than a liability waiting to be taken out.

The financial records are a tangled mess of seemingly insignificant transactions. But as I delve deeper, a pattern emerges—tiny payments coinciding with the timeline of Conrad’s rejected projects.

I sit back, my pulse quickening. This isn’t just professional jealousy. It’s calculated revenge.

I snap pictures of my findings and send them to Adrian with a short note:

“Conrad’s motive—resentment over Dominic’s rejections? The timeline matches. Check it out.”

His reply comes almost instantly:

“Good catch. I’m digging deeper now.”

For a moment, satisfaction flickers through me, but it’s quickly overshadowed by dread. The more I uncover, the more dangerous this feels.

When Dominic strides into the room later, his expression is grim.

“Anything?” he asks, nodding toward the papers scattered across the table.

I hold up my laptop, pointing to the data. “Conrad’s sabotage wasn’t just about Mercer. He had a personal vendetta against you. The payments started around the same time you rejected his projects.”

Dominic takes the laptop, his eyes narrowing as he scans the screen. “That son of a bitch,” he mutters.

“You couldn’t have known,” I say, though bitterness edges my tone.

His jaw tightens, and his gaze remains fixed on the data. “Conrad always had a chip on his shoulder, but this…” He shakes his head.

“It’s not just him,” I remind him. “This is bigger than Conrad or Mercer. They’re just pawns.”

His eyes meet mine, and for a fleeting moment, I see something vulnerable—regret, anger at himself, or both.

“You’re right,” he says quietly. “Adrian’s tracking Conrad now. If we find him, he might lead us to whoever’s pulling the strings.”

That Evening

The setting sun casts long shadows across the penthouse, filling the space with uneasy quiet. I sit by the window, replaying the events of last night in my head. The man on the balcony, his cold, calculated movements—they haunt me.

My phone buzzes on the table, jolting me from my thoughts. I glance at the screen, expecting another update from Adrian. Instead, a chilling message stares back at me:

Unknown Number: “Mercer wasn’t your first mistake— will be your last.”

My fingers go numb, and the phone slips from my grasp.

“?” Dominic’s voice cuts through my panic. He’s by my side in seconds, his piercing gaze scanning my face. “What happened?”

I hand him the phone wordlessly. His eyes darken as he reads the message, his body stiffening with tension.

“Adrian,” he barks into his own phone. “We have a problem. Track this number. Now.”

The room feels suffocating as Dominic paces, his clipped words sharp enough to cut through the silence.

“They’re watching us,” he mutters. “Every move we make.”

I force myself to speak. “It’s a warning. But what if it’s a distraction? To keep us from focusing on Mercer and the files?”

He stops pacing, his gaze sharp. “It doesn’t matter. We can’t ignore it.”

An hour later, Adrian’s voice crackles through Dominic’s phone.

“The number was a burner. No tied accounts, no digital footprint. It pinged off a Midtown tower, but it’s already offline.”

“Anything else?” Dominic demands.

“There’s one lead. The same tower flagged another burner earlier today. It sent an encrypted message to Graham Clive.”

Dominic’s expression hardens. “Clive.”

“He’s in Brooklyn. A warehouse near the docks. It’s heavily secured, but we can get in.”

“Send me the location,” Dominic orders.

As Dominic prepares to leave, I scour the files for anything new. And then I see it—a name buried deep in the financial transactions.

Graham Clive.

My stomach drops. Clive isn’t just involved—he’s funding Conrad’s sabotage.

I grab my phone and dial Dominic, my heart pounding.

“You need to stop,” I say, my voice trembling. “Clive’s behind this. It’s a trap.”

“I don’t have a choice,” he replies. “If Clive’s there, he’s the link we need.”

“And if he’s ready for you?”

“I’ll handle it,” he says, his voice softening. “Stay put, . I mean it.”

The call ends, leaving me alone with the weight of my fear.

The Dangerous Decision

I grab my keys. If Dominic’s walking into a trap, I won’t let him do it alone.

The Drive

The hum of the city fades into the background as I navigate the nearly deserted streets. My knuckles are white on the steering wheel, the tension in my chest so tight it feels like I might burst. Dominic’s words echo in my mind: Stay put. I mean it.

But I can’t. Not when the stakes are this high, not when every instinct tells me Clive is playing a larger, deadlier game than Dominic realizes.

The address tied to Clive’s offshore accounts is tucked away in an unassuming industrial district, a quiet pocket of the city that feels like it belongs to another world entirely. The building is nondescript—gray brick, a single steel door, and no visible markings. But the black SUV parked out front is a dead giveaway.

I park a block away, my heartbeat thundering as I step out of the car. The air is cold, biting at my skin as I approach the building. Every fiber of my being screams at me to turn back, to call Dominic and let him handle this. But I know if I do, it’ll be too late.

I reach the door, testing the handle. It’s unlocked.

Not a good sign, I think, slipping inside.

Inside the Building

The space is dimly lit, the faint hum of fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. The hallway is narrow, lined with cracked concrete walls and a faint smell of mildew. My footsteps echo softly as I move forward, each step tentative.

I round a corner and freeze.

The room ahead is larger, filled with rows of metal shelves stacked with crates and file boxes. A desk sits in the center, cluttered with papers and a flickering monitor displaying security camera feeds.

My breath catches as I recognize one of the feeds: the warehouse Adrian had mentioned. Dominic is there. I see his silhouette moving cautiously through the shadows, Adrian flanking him.

He doesn’t know about this place, I realize.

A voice cuts through my thoughts, smooth and laced with amusement. “Well, well. I didn’t expect you to come knocking on my door, .”

I spin around, my pulse spiking.

Graham Clive stands in the doorway, his tailored suit immaculate, his hands casually tucked into his pockets. His expression is calm, calculated, as though he’s already five steps ahead.

“Though I must say,” he continues, stepping further into the room, “it does save me the trouble of tracking you down later.”

“What do you want?” I demand, forcing my voice to remain steady.

Clive’s lips curve into a faint smile. “That’s the wrong question, . The real question is, what do you want? Because it seems you and Dominic have been digging where you shouldn’t.”

He gestures to the desk, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous mix of amusement and malice. “The files, the accounts, the connections—it’s all there. I assume you’ve already pieced together some of it. But let me save you some time: you’re out of your depth.”

I take a step back, my mind racing. “If you’re trying to scare me, it’s not going to work.”

“Oh, I’m not trying to scare you,” he says, his tone almost casual. “I’m simply stating a fact. Dominic can’t protect you from this. No one can. And the deeper you dig, the worse it’s going to get for both of you.”

His calm, detached demeanor infuriates me. “You think you’re untouchable,” I say, narrowing my eyes. “But you’ve made a mistake, Clive. You underestimated Dominic—and me.”

Clive chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Still so stubborn. I admire that, truly. But you’ve already lost. You just don’t know it yet.”

The sound of footsteps echoes from the hallway, heavy and deliberate. My stomach twists as two men step into the room, their expressions cold and unyielding.

Clive’s smile widens. “And here’s where the real fun begins.”

Adrenaline surges through me as the men move toward me, their eyes dark with intent. My gaze darts around the room, landing on a heavy metal toolbox on one of the shelves.

Without thinking, I grab it and swing, the weight of it surprising me as it connects with one of the men’s shoulders. He grunts, stumbling back, but the other lunges at me before I can react.

“Get her,” Clive orders, his tone still maddeningly calm.

I twist out of the second man’s grip, my elbow connecting with his ribs. He curses, but his grip tightens, pinning my arms to my sides. Panic bubbles in my chest as the first man recovers, advancing with a dangerous glint in his eyes.

“Enough,” Clive says sharply, his tone carrying an air of finality.

The men freeze, their grip on me loosening just enough for me to yank free. I stumble back, my breath coming in ragged gasps.

Clive takes a step closer, his expression darkening. “You’ve had your fun, . But this ends now.”

Before he can say more, the distant sound of a door slamming echoes through the building.

“What the—” one of the men starts, but Clive silences him with a glare.

I seize the distraction, darting toward the desk. My hand closes around a heavy paperweight, and I swing it with all my strength, catching the second man across the temple. He drops like a stone.

The first man lunges, but I’m already moving, adrenaline propelling me toward the exit.

The hallway stretches ahead like a lifeline, and I sprint toward it, my pulse pounding in my ears. Footsteps thunder behind me, but I don’t dare look back.

The cool night air hits me like a slap as I burst through the front door. My car is just ahead, and I run for it, my breath ragged and my legs trembling.

I fumble with the keys, finally managing to unlock the door and throw myself inside. The engine roars to life, and I peel away from the curb, the tires screeching against the pavement.

In the rearview mirror, I catch a glimpse of Clive standing in the doorway, his expression calm and calculating, as though this is all part of his plan.

When I finally pull into the penthouse garage, my hands are shaking so badly I can barely turn off the engine. I sit there for a moment, trying to catch my breath, but the weight of what just happened presses down on me.

My phone buzzes on the passenger seat, and I snatch it up, expecting Dominic’s name.

It is.

“Where the hell are you?” he demands as soon as I answer, his voice sharp with anger and worry.

“I’m fine,” I say quickly, though my voice trembles. “I found something.”

His tone shifts instantly. “What did you find?”

“Clive wasn’t at the warehouse,” I say, the words tumbling out. “He has a second location. I was there. He—he knows everything, Dominic. He’s watching us.”

There’s a heavy pause on the other end of the line before Dominic speaks, his voice low and dangerous.

“Stay where you are. I’m coming back.”

The call ends, and I sit there in the dark, clutching the phone like it’s the only thing tethering me to reality.

Clive isn’t just a piece of this puzzle—he’s the one holding it all together. And now, more than ever, I know we’re in over our heads.