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When consciousness returned again, it came in fragments—voices she couldn’t place, the thrum of an engine beneath her, the sensation of being lifted. Then air. Cold, sharp air. Someone shouting. A gun cocking. The world jerking sideways as she was moved.

And then nothing.

—

She woke to warmth.

A blanket. A mattress beneath her. A faint scent—clean cedar and jasmine. Her eyelids drifted open, and the room sharpened gradually. The walls weren’t concrete anymore. They weren’t even unfamiliar.

This was Leon’s bedroom. She had managed to sneak in one too many times not to recognize the space.

Her heart lurched.

She tried to sit up and instantly regretted it—pain lanced up her arms where the ropes had burned her skin. Her head throbbed from the drug. But she was alive. And someone had cleaned the dried water and grit from her face.

A sound behind her made her freeze.

“That act won’t work on me.”

Leon’s voice. Low. Controlled. Close.

Carys jolted, glancing over her shoulder. He was standing by the wall, arms folded across his chest, expression unreadable. Valerie was asleep on a sofa nearby, curled under Leon’s coat like a child who trusted him with her whole world.

Good. She was safe. That part mattered more than anything.

But Leon… Leon was staring at Carys as if she were a puzzle missing one vital piece.

“You were at the estate one minute,” he said quietly, “and vanished the next. My father walks in, my sister suddenly starts talking again—something she hasn’t done in years—and you end up in one of his boltholes.” His eyes flicked briefly to the healing cut on her cheek. “You expect me to believe you just… were in the wrong place at the wrong time? Just like you applied for a job a million miles from home”

Carys’s mouth dried.

Here it was. The tightrope.

“I don’t know what happened,” she whispered, adding tremor to her voice—just enough to seem shaken. “Valerie came up to me and then—everything felt wrong. I thought I fainted. The next thing I remember is waking up tied to a chair with your father insulting me. I’m not built to handle this. I teach children. I bake cookies on weekends. I barely know how your house works, Leon—how was I supposed to know your father was going to kidnap me? The last time I saw how crazy your family was, you were running at me with a gun and said the police was on it.”

A lie wrapped in truth mixed with subtle accusations. Those were always the best ones.

Leon didn’t blink. He pushed off the wall slowly, approaching her without sound. He moved like he always did—light, lethal, deliberate. And he rewarded lies with silence, not anger. That was the dangerous part.

He crouched beside the bed.

“Funny thing,” he murmured, tilting his head, “you always know exactly when to panic and when to stay calm. That’s not normal for a civilian. Remember when you saw Drew's dead body. I was expecting you to be more freaked out then, but you took it like a pro. A fish in water”

She swallowed hard, forcing her breath to hitch like someone on the brink of tears. “People react differently under stress. I broke down in private”

“People do,” Leon agreed softly. “But you aren’t people. You’re Carys. And Carys reacts like someone who has been in situations like this before.”

Her stomach twisted. She looked away. “I work with kids. Kids have emergencies.”

He huffed a humorless breath. “Not the kind that involve injections, abductions, and pressure points. And definitely not the kind that let you pick a lock while unconscious.”

Fuck.

Her heart misfired. “What? I—I didn’t pick anything.”

“You tried,” he corrected. “I saw the bruising on your thumb when I cut the ropes. That only happens when someone attempts to work a knot loose by force.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping until it scraped her nerves. “Who taught you that?”

She let her hands tremble. She let her chest rise too sharply. She widened her eyes until they stung. She became the terrified tutor again, desperate and confused.

“Leon, I thought I was going to die,” she whispered. “I did anything I could to stay alive—but I wasn’t trained for this. I didn’t even know what I was doing.”

Another lie wrapped in truth.

He stared at her for a long beat. Too long. Long enough that she wondered if he could hear how violently her heart was pounding. Finally, he sat back on his heels, assessing her again with that quiet, unnerving scrutiny.

“I don’t fully believe you,” he said simply. “But I don’t not believe you either.” His gaze softened for the briefest second as he looked at Valerie’s sleeping form. “My father got to her. To both of you. That’s enough to make you prey, not predator. I need to know what she knows and why she would betray our family”

Carys forced her shoulders to sag with relief she didn’t feel. “Thank you.”

Leon didn’t acknowledge it.

Not directly.

Instead, he stood and walked to the small sink in the corner, filling a glass of water and bringing it back. He held it out—not kindly, not warmly, but as a man who knew she needed it.

She took it carefully.

“Drink slowly,” he said. “The drug will take a while to clear.”

She sipped, letting the coolness settle her stomach.

Leon watched her the entire time. Not like a protector. Like an interrogator who wasn’t done. “You saw something,” he said finally. “Or heard something. Something my father didn’t want you to know.”

Her grip tightened around the glass. “I—I don’t know what he meant, Leon. He was ranting. He said you and Ivon took something from him, that he was building some empire—”

Leon stiffened. Ah. That hit something.

Carys hesitated, playing her next sentence carefully. “He said you were supposed to help him.”

Leon’s jaw flexed.

“And you,” he said slowly, “should not have heard that.”

Carys didn’t need to fake fear now. “He thinks I’m involved,” she whispered. “He thinks I’m some spy or—whatever it is he imagines. I’m not. Leon, please believe me. I was just trying to protect Valerie.”

“That I believe.” His gaze drifted to his sister. “Valerie doesn’t let anyone touch her. But she let you hold her when she panicked. That matters.”

Carys exhaled shakily. But the relief was short-lived. Because Leon’s eyes cut back to her—sharp, knowing, dangerous.

“But don’t mistake that for trust,” he said quietly. “A man like my father doesn’t do anything without purpose. If he took you—there’s a reason. And until I know what that reason is?” He stepped back, still watching her. “I’m keeping my eyes on you.”

Carys nodded slowly, mind racing beneath the mask of trembling fear. She needed to report this. She needed to get out. She needed to warn her handler that this family was splintering from the inside and the father wasn’t just dangerous—he was strategic, manipulative, and uncomfortably close to exposing her.

All the information they had on the Valachi's did not hold a torch to the truth, and experiencing the chaos on the forefront wasn't written on her resume. Brent needed to know what they were up against or she was going to die like the others and eventually forgotten - only remembered by her name written in cursive on a dirty wall.

But right now? Right now she needed to survive Leon’s suspicion. And Leon’s suspicion was a blade with no handle.

“Do you understand me?” he asked.

She forced her voice into a whisper. “Yes.”

“Good.” He walked past her toward the door, pausing only once more. “And Carys?”

“Y-yes?”

“If you’re lying about anything,” he said calmly, “even something small… I’ll know.”

He left without waiting for her reply.

Carys lay back against the pillow, heart thundering, breath shaking, adrenaline burning beneath her skin.

She had survived Leo. But Leon was something else entirely. He was the one she couldn’t escape. And the one she couldn’t afford to expose. Because Leon wasn’t hunting her. Not yet. But he was circling. Waiting. Listening. And if she slipped even once—he would be the one to bring her down.