BEHIND CLOSED DOORS
725 Words
Chapter 4
BEHIND CLOSED DOORS
The words refused to disappear.
REVENGE BEGINS TODAY.
Even after the forensic photographer finished documenting the bloodstained pillar, the message seemed to linger in the air, clinging to every breath inside the underground parking garage.
Detective Marcus Hale straightened, peeling off one glove with a sharp snap.
"Photograph everything twice," he ordered. "Nobody crosses this line unless I authorize it."
Officers scattered in different directions, their boots echoing across the concrete floor.
The flashing blue lights washed over the bloodstained sedan, turning the entire garage into something cold and unreal.
Iris couldn't move.
Her fingers tightened around her clutch until the edges dug into her palm.
Hidden inside was the folded note she hadn't shown anyone.
Find Evelyn.
Two words.
No explanation.
No surname.
Yet somehow they felt heavier than the bloody warning on the wall.
A movement beside her pulled her attention away.
Cassian hadn't looked at the pillar again.
He was studying the entire garage.
His gaze swept across the exits.
The ventilation ducts.
The security cameras.
The ceiling.
Not like a frightened victim.
Like a man searching for the one move everyone else had missed.
How could someone stay so calm?
She had nearly died less than an hour ago.
Her heart still hadn't slowed down.
His hadn't seemed to speed up at all.
"Mr. Laurent."
Marcus stopped beside him.
"For your safety—and your wife's—I strongly recommend police protection until we identify whoever is responsible."
Cassian finally looked at him.
"We already have protection."
"I'm talking about police officers."
"I'm talking about people I trust."
Marcus folded his arms.
"You don't trust the police?"
"I trust evidence."
The detective's jaw tightened.
"Someone tried to murder you."
"I noticed."
"And your response is to refuse additional protection?"
"My response," Cassian said evenly, "is to make sure the next attempt fails."
Silence settled between them.
Marcus held his gaze for several seconds before exhaling slowly.
"I sincerely hope your confidence isn't misplaced."
"So do I."
The detective walked away, barking fresh orders at his team.
Iris stared after him before turning sharply toward Cassian.
"What was that?"
He glanced at her.
"What was what?"
"'I hope your confidence isn't misplaced.'"
"No."
She shook her head impatiently.
"The way you answered him."
Her voice rose despite herself.
"You almost sound like you expected this."
For the first time all afternoon, something flickered behind Cassian's gray eyes.
Not guilt.
Weariness.
"When people spend enough money trying to destroy you," he said quietly, "you stop asking if they'll come."
He buttoned his jacket with deliberate precision.
"You start wondering when."
Iris stared at him.
He said it so casually.
As if attempted murder belonged on a daily schedule.
"You can't honestly live like that."
"I do."
"That's not living."
"No."
A faint shadow crossed his expression.
"It's surviving."
Before Iris could respond, another voice interrupted.
"Mr. Laurent."
A man in an immaculate navy suit approached with measured confidence.
His silver-streaked hair was perfectly combed.
A leather portfolio rested beneath one arm.
Everything about him spoke of polished professionalism.
"Mr. Whitmore," Cassian acknowledged.
Unlike everyone else, the newcomer didn't appear shaken by the day's events.
His smile was controlled.
Practiced.
Almost rehearsed.
He turned toward Iris.
"So this is Mrs. Laurent."
The title landed awkwardly.
She still wasn't used to hearing it.
"I'm Graham Whitmore," he said, extending a hand. "Legal adviser to the Laurent family."
His handshake was firm.
Cold.
His smile never reached his eyes.
"I wish we'd met under happier circumstances."
"I'm beginning to think today isn't interested in happy circumstances," Iris replied dryly.
For the first time all day, someone looked mildly surprised.
Then Graham chuckled.
"A fair observation."
He opened his portfolio.
"There are several legal documents requiring your signatures before you leave."
Cassian answered before Iris could.
"They'll wait."
"I'm afraid they can't."
"They will."
A brief silence.
Graham met Cassian's eyes.
"Those instructions didn't come from me."
Cassian's expression hardened almost imperceptibly.
"They still wait."
The lawyer hesitated.
For the first time, his polished confidence cracked.
"...Very well."
But Iris noticed something.
He hadn't argued.
He hadn't apologized.
He'd simply retreated.
As though someone higher than him had issued those orders.
And Cassian knew exactly who that someone was.
The realization unsettled her.
*Who still held authority over the most powerful Laurent?
- Writer
- chap_listContents
- likeADD