The villa smelled of smoke and blood.
I sat on the marble countertop in the kitchen, my foot wrapped in a makeshift bandage, fingers trembling in my lap. The white linen was already soaked through with crimson, the cut deeper than I’d realized. But the sting of the injury barely registered. It was a distant echo compared to the sharp, jagged panic still ricocheting through my chest.
The man had been inside.
I couldn't forget. His struggle on the ground. The glint of the knife which he'd dropped aside when Caspian pulled him down on the ground. The grin on his face though his blood had seeped out of the wound — a smile that this was all good and humorous, just as was the reality of violence, disruption of peace, invasion of our space a joking matter.
A prize already attained.
The security team of the villa buzzed like bees, taking up all the space in the room. They buzzed around the grounds with military fervor, yelling into radios, double-checking locks and screens. The quiet whisper of their voices became background chatter, fading into the back of my brain.
I did not see anything except Caspian.
He rested against the fireplace, bracing his body on the mantle as if finally the world had collapsed upon him. His head was dropped forward, his chin thrust out so tightly that I could see the muscles straining beneath his skin.
His black shirt was torn, streaked with dirt and blood — the majority of it not his. A jagged tear ran down his forearm, the flesh raw and pink, and a bruise mapped like ink along his jaw. But he didn't move. Didn't speak.
Didn't even nod at the medic looming over him, or the head of security beginning breach assessment.
He just stood.
Frozen.
And silent.
Seething.
I gripped the counter to keep my hands steady, but the tremors wouldn’t stop.
I’d never seen anyone as furious as Caspian had been when he’d taken the man down. It hadn’t been self-defense. It had been murderous. Pure, unchecked brutality.
And the terrifying part?
I wasn’t horrified by it.
I was grateful.
Because if Caspian hadn’t crossed that line, if he’d hesitated for even a second, I’d be dead.
My chest collapsed in on itself, and I tucked my knuckles into my lips to suppress the sob that was eager to be released.
"Lily."
His voice broke through static in my head, low and raspy. I looked up, and he was already there — close enough that I could see the blood on the cuff of his arm, the way his fingers remained curled like it would hurt them to crush something.
He stretched out, knuckles against my cheek. The touch was as light as a feather, almost reverent.
It made me realize I was crying.
I hadn't even known it.
"I need you to say you're all right," he groaned out, voice torn to shreds.
I nodded, lying my head off.
I wasn't all right.
I couldn't be certain if ever I would be again.
But he had to believe it, he needed to hear it. So I gave him the lie and let him cling to it as if it were the truth.
His hand inched around my neck, his fingers running through my hair as he brought his forehead against mine. His breath was stifled, and I could tell that he was trembling, too.
"I almost lost you," he whispered. "I almost—"
His voice trailed off, and I couldn't stand it.
I wrapped my arms around him, holding him close, and he folded against me as though he was going to collapse under the weight of it all he'd been lugging around in here. His body was coiled around me, muscles stiffened, chest coming up and going down in convulsive breathing.
We spent hours like that, bound in silence, our hearts beating against each other. I could feel the storm in him, the almost-fearful fury churning under his skin, the struggle in the vice with which he was holding me.
He was trying not to break me.
I hoped he would break me.
Because if he held me that tightly, then I had to be alive.
But the longer we were there, the more the questions burned.
"Who was he?" I panted, my lips dry.
Caspian flinched.
I pulled back far enough to catch his face, my hands knotting in the torn material of his shirt.
"I have to know, Caspian," I said to him. "Because he knew me. He knew my name. This wasn't random. This wasn't just about you — it was about me, too."
His jaw snapped shut.
"I won't be able to defend myself if you keep this from me," I insisted. "I won't—" My throat constricted. "I won't make it through this if you don't tell me what I'm up against."
He breathed in, then out, slowly and deliberately, his eyes closed.
When he opened them again, the facade dropped away.
The man standing in front of me wasn't just Caspian Grey — the billionaire, the businessman, the sinner.
He was something more.
He was a man to be feared.
"His name is Victor Dane," Caspian said again, voice slicing with a cutting precision that would bleed. "And he used to work for me."
My heart missed a beat.
"What?"
"He was on my security detail," Caspian went on, the words granite-like in his mouth. "One of my best men. Until he started leaking secrets to my rivals."
I was having trouble keeping up, my mind racing.
"What information?"
"Everything," Caspian snarled. "Private accounts. Investment portfolios. Multi-million-dollar deals in the pipeline. He milked my company dry. We lost millions. Lost clients. Lost entire projects."
He spat a disgusted sound, shaking his head.
"And by the time I knew it was him, it was too late."
I gulped hard, trying to get my head around the sheer scope of it.
"But why come after you now?" I whispered.
Caspian's hands clenched at his hips.
"Because I ruined him," he snarled, hot eyes. "I made sure that he would never be able to walk in this city again to do business. Blacklisted him. Severed all connections he had. Stripped every shilling he had stolen." His voice turned raspier, darker. "And now he desires the one thing that I cannot recover."
The room turned.
You, Caspian breathed, his voice shaking. "He wants you, Lily. Not to harm me — to destroy me."
My heart hiccuped.
Victor Dane hadn't just been a threat.
He'd been a ghost. A predator who haunted the periphery, poised to pounce at the most opportune moment.
And now he had.
Caspian's finger slid along my jaw, turning my face toward his eyes.
"I won't let him touch you," he snarled, low and deadly. "I don't care what it takes, Lily. I'll kill him before I let him near you again."
I knew he was serious.
But I also knew it wasn't as simple as that.
Because Victor had already entered the villa.
Which meant he wasn't simply standing outside and watching us.
He was already inside.
Waiting.
And he wasn't finished.