Hailey's POV
Kingsley didn't shout.
That was the first thing that scared me.
His hand locked around my wrist, firm and unyielding, and suddenly I was moving—half-dragged, half-running—down the corridor as alarms screamed overhead. Red emergency lights strobed against the walls, turning the penthouse into something unrecognizable, something hostile. The polished calm of the place shattered, replaced by urgency and angles and threat.
"This way," he said, his voice low and lethal.
We turned sharply, my heels skidding against marble as he shoved open an unmarked door and pushed me inside. The room sealed behind us with a heavy mechanical click, the sound final, deliberate.
The security suite.
I barely had time to register the space before Kingsley was already moving, his
