The night began with a lie.
The lie was that they were safe.
The Obsidian penthouse was locked down tighter than the Federal Reserve. The physical blast shields were lowered over the windows, sealing them in a cocoon of steel. The magical wards, recalibrated by Beatrice herself, hummed with a frequency that made the air feel electric. Outside the bedroom door, Jax and two elite enforcers stood guard. inside, Ethan checked the perimeter of the room three times before he even took off his holster.
"You're pacing," Emily murmured from the bed. She was buried under a duvet of Egyptian cotton, the sheer luxury of the bedding a stark contrast to the tension in the room.
"I am patrolling," Ethan corrected. He finally sat on the edge of the mattress, his hand finding her ankle under the covers
