Chapter 222 Did you lay a hand on her?

Chapter 222 Did you lay a hand on her?
♡Leila♡

The car door opens, and cool night air rushes in, brushing against my skin. I inhale it deeply. Cain’s warning had made me hot—ridiculously hot—even with the Bentley’s air-conditioning blasting earlier. This helps. A little.

I don’t know why he’s been acting weird. Maybe it’s because I kept pushing him away back at the house.

Maybe this is his version of revenge.

Ugh. So petty for a strong, tall, overly masculine man.

—Wait. Why am I even describing him like that?

Get a grip, Leila.

You didn’t come here to play.

You came to find Tobias’s secret. To understand his death.

Be careful. Be professional.

My phone vibrates in my hand.

June.

Oh shit.

I can’t take this call inside.

“Cain,” I say, stopping him mid-step and tugging lightly at his suit.

He flinches. Again.

God. This is getting annoying. But maybe it’s better if I’m annoyed with him.

A win-win.

“What?” he snaps, sharp.

“I need to take this call,” I whisper. “It’s my friend.”

Cain exhales loudly, his gaze sweeping over his men, the bodyguards, the massive old-world structure looming ahead.

So this is the venue?

I thought it was the glass penthouse across the street. But Xavi did a U-turn and brought us here instead.

I push the thought aside.

“I’ll be quick,” I say, already stepping back. “Don’t worry.”

I hurry back into the car.

“Hey,” I say, slightly out of breath.

“Hey! What’s up? How’s Fiji?” June’s voice rings through the line.

Fiji. The vacation city I lied about.

“Uh—yeah, it’s good. The place is—”

“June, baby, come. I want to show you something,” Mr. Grande’s voice cuts in from the background.

“Not now, Hermes,” June snaps. “I’m on a call. And I’m not falling for that trick again.” Then, softer, “Sorry, Leila. You were saying?”

I sigh, glancing through the tinted window. Cain is waiting.

“June… June…” I say, pretending the line is breaking. “I can’t hear you. The service is bad here. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? I’m fine. Don’t worry.”

I hang up before she can reply.

“Phew.” I shut down my phone.

June shouldn’t worry. She’s happy. She’s safe.

As for me?

I have to find my destiny myself.

I step out of the car, slip my hand into Cain’s, and force a smile.

“Let’s go.”

The bodyguards swing the doors open, and a soft gasp slips from my lips before I can stop it.

This is—

This is nothing like what I expected.

The exterior had been old, almost unimpressive. Stone walls, dim lighting and heavy doors meant to scare people away. But inside?

Inside is a lie.

The hall opens into something lavish and deliberate. High vaulted ceilings drenched in warm gold light. Crystal chandeliers hanging low, refracting shadows instead of brightness. Deep velvet drapes in black and burgundy line the walls, swallowing sound. The floor gleams like polished obsidian, reflecting movement, masks, secrets.

Music hums low—not loud enough to dance to, just enough to unsettle. Tables draped in silk overflow with expensive liquor, crystal glasses, untouched decadence. Every detail screams elegance while whispering violence.

A camouflage party.

Exactly like Mia said.

This place is designed to deceive.

“Oh my God, Cain,” I whisper, my eyes darting everywhere. “This place is—”

“Dangerous.”

His voice cuts me off.

Not his usual cold.

This one is steel. Ice. Controlled and distant, like he’s stepped into a different skin.

“You shouldn’t wander around,” he continues, eyes forward, posture rigid.

My brows lift. Confused and sightly irritated.

He’s said that how many times now?

“I get it, Cain. I get it,” I mutter, rolling my eyes as I pull my hand from his.

We stop near a long table filled with drinks so expensive they look ornamental.

“What’re you doing?” he whispers sharply.

“I don’t need to hold your hand to stay close to you,” I snap back quietly. “You’re being annoying right now. And I’m overstimulated right now."

I grab a glass, instinctively lifting it—then freeze.

I feel it before I see it.

The disapproval.

Cain’s head tilts just slightly beneath the mask.

Message received.

“What?"I say with a shrug, setting it back down. “I forgot I was pregnant.”

I scan the room instead.

Masks everywhere.

Men and women cloaked in tailored suits and gowns, faces hidden behind gold filigree, matte black designs, silver half-masks etched with symbols I don’t recognize. Up close, no one looks scary. They look… approachable.

Too approachable.

That’s the trick.

They hide the teeth, and their knives.

“Don’t they serve water here?” I ask.

“Miguel,” Cain says immediately. “Get her water.”

Then he turns to Xavi, who’s standing rigid nearby like a watchtower. “Watch her. I’ll go meet the others.”

“Cain—where are you—” I start.

He grips my shoulders briefly, firm. Grounding.

“I’ll be back,” he says. “Xavi will take care of you.”

Then he’s gone.

I nod, but uncertainty settles deep in my chest.

What if everyone here is armed like me?

They stripped weapons at the door, and thoroughly searched the men.

But not me.

They never searched me. They never would.

Cain knew that.

That’s why he gave me the gun.

Wise, but terrifying, because suddenly, Grant’s Hall doesn’t feel beautiful anymore.

It feels hungry.

I barely have time to take in the crowd before—

Hands. Rough. Cold. Firm. Grab me by the waist.

“What the hell—” I yelp, spinning around instinctively.

Xavi is already there, snapping between us, his body rigid with fury. His eyes flash a warning before he realizes who the culprit is.

My wrist is yanked behind me, and Xavi’s grip is like iron. “Don Jose… I thought—”

The words are cut off.

A voice—silvery, sultry—cuts through the music and the crowd like a blade. “Cain. You came.”

Every nerve in my body freezes.

I glance over Xavi’s shoulder. The man who grabbed me is huge, handsome, but… disgusting. Scar across his chin, that sickening smirk, no mask.

And then I see her. Blonde hair perfect, pink custom mask, confidence dripping off her. “Oh my. You look dapper.”

My stomach twists.

“Tracy, come back here,” Jose hisses between his teeth, still smiling that nasty smile. You can see the irritation under the surface.

Cain’s voice cuts through the tension like a gunshot. Sharp. Controlled. Cold. “Did you lay a hand on her?”

I barely breathe. My heart is hammering.

“What if I did?” Jose’s grin stretches across his scarred face.

I can feel it—the room thickens, like the air itself is holding its breath. My pulse is deafening in my ears.

I try to shrink, to make myself smaller, but Cain is already moving toward us. Every step he takes tightens something in my chest.