Alone with him

Alone with him

The text glowed on my phone.

Smile for me, Tess.

My throat locked. My pulse thundered in my ears. I forced the screen dark and slid the phone into my clutch, but Kyle’s eyes still pinned me from across the ballroom.

Cole shifted closer, his voice hard. “He knows you are here.”

“I know,” I whispered.

Cole’s jaw flexed. “We should leave. Now.”

I shook my head. “Not yet.”

“He is circling you like a wolf. Every second we stand here is a second he owns.”

“He already owns them,” I said, nodding toward the room. Judges. Council members. Police brass. Every one of them applauding as Kyle finished his toast. “I need to see who lines up for him.”

Another buzz vibrated in my hand. I didn’t want to look, but I did.

Unknown number: Do not disappoint me.

I swallowed hard. My face betrayed nothing, but inside my stomach knotted.

Cole leaned close, his breath sharp against my ear. “What did he say?”

“He told me not to disappoint him.”

Cole’s nostrils flared. His hand twitched near his jacket. “He is taunting you in public. He wants you rattled.”

Kyle moved down the steps, shaking hands, kissing cheeks. Cameras followed him, flashes bursting with every step. The room leaned toward him like he was gravity itself.

Cole muttered, “Look at them. Every handshake is a confession. Every cheer is a bribe. And they clap anyway.”

A senator laughed too loudly at something Kyle whispered. A judge clasped his hand like a brother. Police officers stood shoulder to shoulder, their uniforms forming a wall of legitimacy around a criminal king.

My nails dug into my palm. “This is the story.”

“This is suicide,” Cole snapped.

I ignored him. “Cynthia said to trace the accounts tonight. These faces are the names on that list. This is how it all ties together.”

Cole’s stare cut through me. “You think the crowd will care if you publish? They will not. They will say you lied. Cain will erase you before the ink dries.”

“I do not care,” I said. My voice trembled but held. “If I do not try, then Kyle already won.”

The applause swelled again as Kyle reached the center of the ballroom. His smile was warm, his voice charming, but his eyes stayed on me. He lifted his glass in my direction, subtle enough that no one else would notice.

My phone buzzed again.

Unknown number: Lift your glass.

I froze.

Cole saw the screen and cursed under his breath. “Do not.”

Every instinct screamed to throw the phone across the room, but I forced my fingers steady and raised my champagne flute, just slightly. Kyle’s smile widened. To the room, it looked like a shared moment of admiration between host and guest. To me, it was a chain tightening.

Cole’s hand closed around my wrist, forcing the glass down. His voice was low, lethal. “Enough.”

Kyle turned away, laughing with the mayor, but I felt the trap close tighter.

Cameras shifted to the stage again. The charity board chair took the microphone, praising Kyle for his “generous contributions.” The crowd roared with approval.

Cole leaned close. “This is the part where he launders his empire into sainthood.”

I swallowed the bitter taste in my mouth. “And the city thanks him for it.”

My phone buzzed yet again.

Unknown number: Do not walk out before I am finished.

Cole read it with me. His jaw tightened. “He is dictating your movements.”

“He is showing me who is really in charge.”

“He is showing you he can still make you obey,” Cole growled.

I did not answer. I could not. Because it was true. My feet felt nailed to the floor.

A waiter passed. Cole grabbed two glasses, handing one to me. “If you are going to stand here while he pulls your strings, at least do it looking like you belong.”

I took the glass, my hand trembling. “This is the only way to see the rot clearly. You said yourself: if you want to kill a king, you cut off his crown in public. That means standing here, not running.”

Cole’s eyes burned into mine. “Then stand. But do not forget every second you play his game is another second he wins.”

The gala swelled with more applause as Kyle took the stage again. He spoke of progress, of generosity, of unity. He smiled like a man at peace, like a leader loved by all. My phone buzzed in my palm with every lie he told, his private words cutting through the public mask.

Unknown number: You always liked me in black.

My chest caved. I pressed my hand to my ribs as if I could stop my heart from tearing itself apart.

Cole saw the crack in me. His voice sharpened. “He is not speaking to you. He is speaking through you. He wants you to break here, in front of all of them.”

The applause drowned him out.

Kyle raised his glass again, the cameras flashing. His voice carried smooth and strong. “Tonight we stand together, not as leaders and citizens, but as family. And family protects its own.”

The crowd roared.

My phone buzzed again.

Unknown number: Family protects its own. You belong to me.

My knees buckled. Cole’s grip on my arm kept me upright. His whisper cut sharp. “If you collapse now, you give him the victory. Hold it together.”

I clenched the phone in my fist until my knuckles turned white. My vision blurred. Kyle’s smile glowed through the haze like fire.

The crowd chanted his name.

Cole’s mouth brushed my ear, his voice steady. “Do not look at him. Look at me. If you give him your eyes, you are finished.”

I forced myself to meet Cole’s gaze. His eyes were steel, unflinching. For one second, I could breathe again.

But the phone buzzed once more.

Unknown number: After the speeches, I want you upstairs. Alone.

I froze.

Cole’s eyes darkened as he read it over my shoulder. His whisper was lethal. “If you go upstairs, he owns you forever. If you refuse, he will show this crowd exactly who you are.”

The gala erupted in another cheer. Kyle bowed his head slightly, graceful, perfect.

My pulse hammered. Every exit felt closed. Every path led back to him.

Cole’s grip tightened. “Decide, Tess. Do we walk out now, or do we
walk straight into his trap?”

I stared at the phone, the words burning.

Upstairs. Alone.

And Kyle’s eyes never left mine.