Chapter 32 Crosshairs

Chapter 32 Crosshairs


Damien’s POV

The alert pings just before dawn.
A low, sharp tone that slices through the quiet hum of the control room and drags me from the thin thread of sleep I’d managed on the couch.

The monitors flicker to life, the house cast in shades of grayscale through dozens of security feeds. I lean forward, scanning the log. The perimeter sensors tripped at 4:03 a.m. — someone ran a digital probe across the estate’s external network.
Not random. Intentional. Precise.

“Show me the source,” I mutter.

The system traces the intrusion path across the grid. Whoever did this knew what they were doing — they weren’t trying to break in, just look.

A schematic appears on-screen. My jaw tightens.

The bastard scanned the entire blueprint of the Cade Estate. Including the restricted lower wing.

My hands clench into fists.

“Adrian,” I call through the intercom.

He arrives two minutes later, half-dressed, hair unkempt but alert. “What happened?”

“Someone pinged our internal cameras last night,” I say. “They pulled the blueprint.”

His eyes widen. “From inside or outside the system?”

“External. But whoever it was, they had clearance-level access. This wasn’t a kid with a laptop.”

Adrian moves closer to the console. “Could it be one of the board members?”

I shake my head. “No. They wouldn’t risk it directly. This was surgical — a professional sweep.”

He studies the data feed. “Then they’re looking for something specific.”

“They’re looking for her,” I say quietly.

He doesn’t argue. He doesn’t have to.

By the time Elena wakes, the sun is already high, spilling gold across the marble floors. She walks into the dining room barefoot, wearing one of my shirts, her hair still damp from the shower. She looks softer in the light, untouched by the chaos that hums just beneath the surface of this house.

I watch her for a long moment before she notices me standing at the far end of the room.

“Morning,” she says, her voice tentative.

I nod. “You slept late.”

“Maybe I finally feel safe here,” she replies, half teasing.

I don’t smile. I can’t.

“Elena,” I start, but she’s already walking toward the coffee pot.

“What happened?” she asks, reading my tone instantly. “You’ve got that look — the one that says something’s wrong and you’re not going to tell me what.”

“Someone accessed the estate’s blueprints last night.”

Her hand freezes around the cup. “What?”

“They scanned our security network — every room, every floor. Including the restricted wing.”

She sets the cup down slowly. “And you think it’s the same people who’ve been following me?”

“I know it is.”

Her gaze hardens. “Then maybe it’s time you stop locking me out and start telling me what you actually know.”

I exhale. “Elena, I’m trying to keep you alive.”

“By keeping me in the dark?” she fires back. “That’s not protection, Damien. That’s control.”

I take a step closer. “You don’t understand what these people are capable of.”

“Then make me understand!” she snaps. “You think I haven’t seen what they’ve already done? The threats, the break-ins, the car tailing me last week? You think I don’t feel the danger closing in?”

Her voice shakes, but her eyes don’t waver. She’s not afraid of me — she’s afraid of being powerless.

I lower my voice. “You still have the prototype fragments?”

She blinks, thrown by the sudden change of subject. “Yes. Why?”

“Give them to me.”

“No.”

“Elena—”

“I said no.” Her tone is calm but final. “They’re my father’s work. My only link to him. I’m not handing them over to anyone — not even you.”

My patience slips. “Those fragments could make you a target!”

Her chin lifts. “I already am a target.”

The words land harder than I expect. I look away, gripping the edge of the table until my knuckles pale.

For a moment, silence stretches between us — sharp, cold, electric.

When I finally speak again, my voice sounds rough. “Do you think I enjoy this?”

Her expression softens, just slightly.

“Do you think I like watching every second of your day through a camera feed, tracking every move you make, knowing that if I miss even one, someone might use you to hurt me?”

I step closer, stopping inches away from her. “You think I’m controlling you out of pride, Elena, but that’s not it. I’ve seen what happens when you trust the wrong people. I’ve seen what my father did to those who stood in his way — to the people who loved him. I won’t watch it happen again.”

Her breath catches, her anger fading into something quieter. “You really believe I’m safer here?”

I nod once. “Until I know who’s behind this, yes.”

She studies me for a long moment. “And what if it’s someone inside, Damien? What if your own people are turning on you?”

That possibility gnaws at me. It’s the same thought I’ve had since I saw the intrusion. But I can’t let her see that doubt — not yet.

“I’ll find out,” I say instead. “Just… don’t leave the house today. Promise me.”

She hesitates, then nods. “Fine. Today.”

But the look in her eyes tells me what I already know — tomorrow, she’ll disobey.

By midnight, the sweep is complete. No traces, no fingerprints, no IP address. Whoever scanned the estate covered their tracks perfectly.

I stand in the study, staring at the monitors until my reflection blurs into the glass. I hate this feeling — this helplessness. It reminds me of being sixteen, watching my father use men and women like chess pieces. I remember his words clearly: Power doesn’t protect. It consumes.

He was right.

And now, it’s consuming me too.

Adrian knocks once before stepping inside. “Perimeter’s clean. Nothing unusual.”

“Too clean,” I mutter.

He nods. “She’s still awake. In the east wing.”

I rub my temple. “Keep two guards on standby. Rotate them every hour.”

Adrian hesitates. “Damien, she’s not going to stay still forever.”

“I know.”

“Then maybe it’s time you tell her the truth.”

I meet his eyes. “The truth would only paint a bigger target on her back.”

He doesn’t argue. Just leaves me alone with my thoughts.

The next morning, the sound of breaking glass and metal tearing rips through the estate like thunder.

“Sir!” one of the guards shouts through the comms. “It’s Mrs. Cade’s car—”

I don’t wait for the rest.

By the time I reach the gates, smoke is curling from the hood of her vehicle, the scent of burnt rubber and gasoline thick in the air. The driver’s door is flung open.

Elena stands a few feet away, trembling, her palms scraped and bleeding where she must have hit the pavement. Her hair clings to her face, and her eyes are wide, unfocused.

I cross the distance between us in seconds, grabbing her shoulders. “What the hell happened?”

“I—I don’t know,” she stammers. “I was just leaving the drive, and then this van—”

“Where’s the driver?” I bark, scanning the road.

“Gone. He just… drove off.”

Rage burns through me like wildfire.

Adrian appears at my side. “Witnesses say it was deliberate,” he reports grimly. “No plates, tinted windows. They hit and ran.”

I turn back to Elena. “You weren’t supposed to leave.”

She flinches, tears brimming. “I just wanted to go to the store.”

My tone softens instantly. I pull her into my arms before she can argue. Her body shakes against mine, her heart pounding so fast I can feel it through her ribs.

“Shh,” I murmur, holding her tighter. “You’re all right. I’ve got you.”

But even as I whisper the words, my mind is already racing. This wasn’t random. It was a warning — one meant for me.

Someone out there wants her scared. Wants me angry.

And they’ve succeeded on both counts.

I look up at the smoldering wreck, the shattered glass glittering like ice on the asphalt. My voice is low, deadly calm.

“Find them,” I tell Adrian. “Whoever did this — find them before I do.”

Because this time, I won’t play defense.

This time, I’ll strike first.