RUTHLESS DEVOTION: THE EMPIRE BETWEEN US

FOUL PLAY

The sleek black Maybach glided into the restricted VIP bay of Sinclair Citadel National Hospital. Before the tires even stopped rolling, Jacob was out, throwing the passenger door open.

Justin Vance stepped onto the pavement, smoothing his jacket. "Find her room," he commanded, his voice casual. "Don't make a scene."

"Yes, sir."

Justin didn't wait. He strode through the sliding glass doors and walked down the quiet corridors toward the chief of surgery's wing, softly humming a classical tune.

Inside his private office, Dominic Sinclair was buried under a stack of medical reports. A sharp, rhythmic knock disrupted the silence inside the office.

"Come in," Dominic muttered, not looking up from the charts.

The door swung open. Justin stepped inside, tilting his head in mock disappointment when his cousin didn't bother to greet him. He let out a sharp, clicking hiss.

"You know, cousin, it's remarkably disrespectful to ignore family. Not even a hello for your long-lost relative?"

Dominic's head snapped up. His gaze turned icy, his jaw tightening as disgust coiled in his chest. What is this psycho doing in my hospital?

"Why are you here, Justin?" Dominic asked, his voice flat and dangerous.

Justin smiled, strolling toward the desk. "Long time no see, Dom."

"Cut the crap," Dominic snapped, slamming the medical file shut. "Tell me what you want. If you're looking for a family reunion, you came to the wrong ward. Get the f**k out of my office."

"Relax, Doc. I'm here strictly for business." Justin leaned against the edge of the mahogany desk, entirely shameless. "I'm sure by now you've seen the news. Your dear cousin and best friend is in handcuffs. There's no coming back from a murder charge. Vance Empire is mine now. I'm giving you a chance to align with the winning side."

Dominic froze. Then, a low, dark laugh rumbled in his chest, echoing off the glass walls. Lowin was right, Dominic thought, a chill running down his spine. The bastard actually predicted his brother's exact moves.

"Did I say something amusing?" Justin asked, his eyes narrowing.

"It's f*****g hilarious, Justin," Dominic sneered, leaning back in his leather chair. "You? Taking over the family empire? That won't happen while Lowin Vance is still breathing. More importantly, I don't think your father will let you within a mile of the throne. In fact, instead of sending you into exile this time, I'm personally going to recommend you get locked away in a high-security asylum."

Dominic stood up slowly, slipping off his white lab coat and deliberately rolling up his shirt sleeves, revealing corded forearms. "Which actually works out perfectly for me. I've been looking for human test subjects for my new neurological compound. Based on your erratic behavior, you'll make an excellent candidate."

Justin's blood boiled. Rage distorted his sharp features as he violently slammed both palms onto Dominic's desk. "Watch your mouth, Sinclair!"

Dominic didn't even flinch. He leaned over the desk, towering over his cousin, his gaze lethal. "You and your twin seem to share the delusion that you can just walk into my space and dictate terms. I am not interested in your pathetic coup. Get out of my office before I physically throw you out."

Justin's rage suddenly dissolved into a cold, menacing chuckle. He straightened his jacket, clicking his tongue. "Still acting all mighty and untouchable, Dom. We'll see how long that arrogance lasts. I'll be waiting patiently for the day you come crawling to me."

He turned to leave, his hand grasping the brass doorknob. But just before stepping out, he paused, looking over his shoulder with a sharp, toxic smirk.

"Oh, and Dom? Tell Amilah Miles her brother-in-law says hello."

The door clicked shut behind him.

Dominic's fist slammed into his leather chair. He tore his phone from his pocket, dialing his head of security, Lex.

"Boss," Lex answered instantly.

"I want an elite team outside Room 402 right now," Dominic roared, his voice trembling with fury. "Twenty-four-seven surveillance. If anyone so much as looks at my patient wrong, consider yourselves my next line of test subjects. Do you understand me?"

He slammed the phone down, immediately dialing Lowin's private, encrypted line.

"You shouldn't be calling a murder suspect, Dom," Lowin's gravelly voice came through the speaker, chillingly calm.

"I don't give a flying f**k about the police right now," Dominic hissed, pacing the floor. "Justin knows Amilah is here. He just walked out of my office."

A heavy, suffocating silence stretched over the line. When Lowin spoke again, his voice had dropped to an absolute, sub-zero temperature. "He won't dare touch her while she's within your walls. Did he touch anything in your office, Dom?"

Dominic blinked, thrown off by the shift. "Not really. Just the edge of my desk. Why?"

"I need his fingerprints."

"What for?"

"He pinned a murder on me that I didn't commit," Lowin murmured, a dark, sinister chuckle escaping his lips. "It's only fair I return the favor. Even if his right-hand man pulled the trigger, I'm going to personally ensure Justin's prints are found at the crime scene by tomorrow morning."

Dominic let out a breath, half-appalled, half-impressed. "Damn. You two really are a pair of matching psychos."

"It's called fair play, cousin," Lowin replied smoothly.

"Secure the prints on a clean slide. And Dom? Keep my little bird safe. You wouldn't want to find out what happens if you fail me, right?"

Dominic rolled his eyes, muttered a curse, and ended the call.

Inside the dim, concrete walls of the precinct interrogation room, Sergeant Dale was staring at Lowin in disbelief. The billionaire sat across from him, cuffed to the table, plotting a high-level frame-up without blinking an eye.

"Are you completely out of your mind?!" Dale barked, slamming his notebook down.

Lowin casually slid his phone back into his vest pocket, leaning back in the metal chair. "Dale, shouldn't you be interrogating me right now instead of tracking my movements? Justin laid the trap. I'm just making sure he slides gracefully into his own noose."

"Mr. Vance, I am done with this circus!" Dale shouted, banging his fist on the table, startling the detectives watching through the one-way glass. "You're acting like an accomplice! For all I know, you and your brother are running a massive game together to manipulate the department!"

Lowin tilted his head, a mocking smirk playing on his lips.

"Nice acting, Sergeant. The passion is there. But remember... you're supposed to be breaking me."

Dale felt a migraine clawing at his temples. He couldn't keep up the charade because he had absolutely no leverage over the man. "And how the hell am I supposed to break a man who treats a police cell like a hotel lounge?"

"That's for you to figure out, Dale. No hard feelings."

Dale clicked his tongue, turning on his heel and storming out of the room. He spotted his partner in the hallway.

"Kelvin! I need the toolkit from the back."

Kelvin's eyes widened in sheer horror. "What for, sir? We can't legally-"

"I said I need the f*****g tools to make this arrogant bastard speak!" Dale roared.

Kelvin nodded frantically, sprinting down the hallway toward the evidence storage unit.

But neither of them noticed the shadow lingering behind the concrete pillar. The figure pulled out a burner phone, his fingers flying across the keypad.

[Unknown]: Boss, Lowin isn't cracking. Dale is losing his mind. Looks like they're moving to aggressive interrogation.

A response flashed back instantly.

[Justin]: Perfect. Keep me updated.

[Unknown]: Today is my day off. I can't stay much longer without drawing suspicion.

[Justin]: Don't worry. If he's silent, he has no alibi. He'll be rotting in that cell for a long time. Report back in the morning.

The shadow slipped the phone away, blending seamlessly into the exit corridor and leaving the precinct unseen.

Back inside the interrogation room, Lowin's eyes drifted to his wristwatch. 12:00 PM. He cursed under his breath. The urge to call Amilah was turning into a physical ache in his chest, but he forced himself to hold back. She needed to rest, completely undisturbed by the storm brewing out here.

Suddenly, his phone buzzed against his thigh. He pulled it out, scanning an encrypted text from Logan.

[Logan]: Boss, there's a leak inside the precinct. Someone is feeding Justin live updates. He already knows you haven't broken.

Lowin rubbed the bridge of his nose just as Dale marched back into the room, aggressively throwing a heavy metallic toolkit onto the steel table. Lowin raised an eyebrow, a low chuckle escaping him.

"You're remarkably annoying, Vance," Dale growled, leaning over him. "Let's see if that smug smirk stays on your face when I start pulling records and clipping your options."

"Trust me, Dale," Lowin murmured, his voice dropping into a dangerous, dark timbre. "If you think your little tools are what breaks a man like me, you've already lost. But more importantly... you have a rat in your house."

Dale froze, his entire body stiffening. "What did you say?"

"Justin already knows every single word spoken in this room, Dale. You have a mole."

"Impossible," Dale hissed. "Only Kelvin and a handful of cleared detectives even know about this specific interrogation."

"When you walked out just now, who did you talk to?"

"Nobody. Just Kelvin."

Lowin gestured toward the glass. "Go check your master CCTV footage from the moment we arrived. Right now."

Dale ran a frantic hand through his hair, desperate to deny the reality, but the weight in Lowin's eyes was undeniable. He stormed out, striding directly into the central surveillance room.

"Everybody out! Right now!" Dale roared.

The IT staff scattered like frightened mice. Dale's fingers flew across the keyboard, pulling up the hallway feeds, zooming in and adjusting the resolution. His breath hitched. There, standing behind a concrete pillar just three feet away from where he had been talking to Kelvin, was a tall figure holding a phone.

When the camera caught a clear angle of his profile, Dale's hand completely went limp, the computer mouse dropping from his fingers.

"Chief Daniel?!"

Dale couldn't breathe. His own boss, the head of the homicide division was the mole.

Pacing frantically, Dale walked back into the interrogation room, his mind spiraling out of control. His agitation was making the air in the room feel thick.

"Please leave if you're just going to pace around like a trapped animal, Sergeant," Lowin remarked dryly.

"Justin has reached the higher-ups," Dale whispered, his voice shaking with a mix of betrayal and fury. "Vance, you're utterly f****d. The Chief of Police is the mole."

Lowin didn't look surprised. He just chuckled darkly, a lethal glint appearing in his eyes. "My brother must have found something deeply damaging to make a man of that rank comply."

"Something like what?"

"That's for us to find out," Lowin murmured, leaning forward against his cuffs. "Tell me, Dale... have you ever thought about taking over his chair? Becoming Chief?"

"What the hell does that have to do with this murder case?!"

"Think about it. If the Chief is corrupt, protecting a killer for a price, what happens to your precious slogan of justice for all? You want a solution? Call your boss. Tell him I just cracked and confessed to everything, and that he needs to get down here immediately to sign off on the paperwork."

Dale stared at him, his mouth agape. "Are you insane? Don't answer that you're completely deranged."

Lowin simply smiled, pulling out his phone and dialing Damien's number. It picked up on the first ring.

"Looking for an accomplice, Mr. Vance?" Damien joked.

"Are you willing to help me bury a threat?" Lowin replied smoothly. "I need your tech expertise. Get to the precinct. There's a high-profile phone I need you to clone and decrypt."

"Give me fifteen minutes."

The line went dead. Lowin pocketed his phone and looked at the stunned detective. "Are you making that call to the Chief, or should I?"

Dale hesitated, his morality warring with his rage. Finally, he grabbed his phone and dialed the private line.

"What is it, Dale?" Chief Daniel's voice came through, sounding strained.

"Lowin Vance just broke, sir. He confessed to the Houston murder. He's refusing to sign the official statement unless you're in the room."

Two miles away, inside a luxury SUV, Chief Daniel slammed on his brakes, tires screeching against the asphalt.

"He confessed?! Hold him right there. I'm coming in right now."

Daniel hung up, his heart pounding against his ribs. He quickly opened his encrypted app and fired a text directly to Justin.

[Daniel]: Lowin just signed the confession.

He hit send, his thumbs flying to type a second message to explain that Lowin wanted a meeting, but the screen suddenly went entirely black. Battery dead. "f**k!" Daniel roared, scrambling through his console for a charging cable, finding nothing. In a panic, he threw the dead phone onto the passenger seat, pulled a sharp U-turn, and sped back toward the precinct.

---

Inside the interrogation room, the tension was suffocating.

"Are you sure about this, Vance?" Dale paced, sweat beading on his forehead. "This is a dangerous play."

"He's the Chief, Dale. Which means we handle this my way, not yours. And my way is brutal."

"You're not planning an execution in my station-"

"Do you honestly think sitting him down and politely asking if he's working for Justin will work?" Lowin interrupted, his voice dropping into a cold, merciless baritone. "Don't be naive, Sergeant. We use the only two things that make a corrupt man talk, pain, or the threat of destroying everything he loves."

The heavy steel door clicked open. Kelvin stepped in, and right behind him was Chief Daniel, adjusting his coat and looking completely composed.

"Hello, Mr. Vance," Daniel said, a smug, authoritative smile on his face.

Lowin didn't answer. He simply raised his left wrist. Dale stepped forward, seamlessly unlocking the cuffs from the table link.

Lowin stood up. His massive, imposing frame completely dominated the small room. He walked slowly, deliberately, toward his boss. Daniel's smug smile faltered, and his instincts kicked in, forcing him to take a step back toward the wall.

"Chief," Lowin murmured, his eyes locking onto the older man like a predator cornering its prey. "Do you know what I despise most in this world? Snakes. I absolutely loathe them."

Daniel swallowed hard, trying to maintain his authoritative posture. "Mr. Vance, why are we suddenly discussing reptiles? Let's get to the paperwork."

Lowin let out a low, maniacal chuckle that sent a visible shiver down Daniel's spine. He sat casually on the edge of the interrogation table, crossing his arms over his chest.

"We both know I didn't kill Jade Houston, Daniel. So tell me... why were you in such a frantic hurry to come into the precinct on your day off? You could have waited until morning. Unless, of course... you've been taking orders from my brother, Justin."

Daniel's entire body went rigid. The color drained completely from his face, his eyes darting frantically toward the door. "Who... I don't know who Justin is."

"Daniel, Daniel, Daniel," Lowin murmured.

In one swift, terrifying blur of motion, Lowin crossed the space. His massive hand wrapped around Daniel's collar, violently slamming him against the concrete wall.

"Hand over your phone. Right now."

"Vance! You are assaulting a senior police officer inside a federal precinct!" Daniel gasped, clawing at Lowin's iron grip.

"I'm not just going to assault you," Lowin whispered against his ear, his voice sending a wave of pure terror through the older man. "I am going to break every single bone in the hand you used to text my brother."

Before Daniel could even scream, Lowin grabbed his right arm, twisting it backward behind his shoulder blades with a terrifying pressure.

A horrific, blood-curdling shriek of agony ripped from Daniel's throat, echoing off the walls. Dale instinctively rushed forward to intervene, but the door flew open. Damien stepped inside, casually leaning against the frame.

"Oh, relax, Dale," Damien remarked, checking his nails. "He won't die from a dislocated shoulder."

Dale halted his steps, watching in morbid fascination as Lowin applied one final, brutal twist. A sickening crack echoed through the room. Daniel let out one last choked scream before his eyes rolled back, his body going completely limp as he passed out from the sheer shock of the pain.

Lowin released him, letting the unconscious Chief slide to the floor like a sack of bricks. "Weakling," Lowin muttered, straightening his cuffs. He looked at Kelvin, who was trembling so violently he looked ready to wet himself. "Check his pockets for the phone."

Kelvin scrambled forward, his hands shaking as he desperately searched Daniel's coat until he pulled out the device. "H-Here it is, sir."

Lowin snatched it, tossing it to Damien.

Damien inspected the screen. "The battery's dead."

Lowin turned his dark gaze back to Kelvin. The young detective didn't need to be told twice. "I'll get a charger right now!" he squeaked, bolting from the room.

Ten minutes later, Damien's fingers were flying across his laptop keyboard, a specialized program bypassing the encryption on Daniel's phone. A wicked smirk spread across his face.

"Well, well, well... I see exactly how Justin got his leash around the Chief's neck."

"What do we have?" Lowin asked, leaning against the wall.

"A highly explosive affair," Damien chuckled, turning the laptop screen. "Justin's people caught him on camera with a high-profile mistress. But that's not even the best part. Your dear Chief has been systematically stealing funds from the city's largest police charity to fund her luxury vacations."

Dale let out a breathless curse, his world tilting. He had respected this man for a decade. "He's a common thief... a complete fraud."

"Congratulations on the upcoming promotion, Sergeant Dale," Lowin murmured dryly. "Because once this hits the federal oversight committee, his chair belongs to you."

On the floor, Daniel let out a weak, pathetic groan, clutching his swelling shoulder as he tried to sit up. Lowin walked over, squatting down until his dark eyes were directly in the Chief's line of sight.

"Tsk, tsk, Daniel. Imagine risking your entire career and family just to sponsor a mistress with stolen charity money."

Daniel's eyes widened in sheer horror. "How... how do you know that?"

"You messed with the wrong family," Lowin whispered, his voice dripping with malice. "Justin can't save your job now. The second I press enter, these files go straight to every major news outlet in the country."

"Please, Mr. Vance... don't do this," Daniel sobbed, tears of pain and terror streaming down his face. "If my wife finds out, she'll ruin me. Think about it... if you were in my position, you wouldn't want your woman to find out, right?"

The image of Amilah's fierce, beautiful face flashed in Lowin's mind, and a dark, possessive smile touched his lips.

"I would never betray my woman, Daniel. So I will never be in your pathetic position. Now tell me... what is Justin's ultimate goal tonight?"

"He just wants you locked up," Daniel squeaked, trembling. "He needs you out of the way for forty-eight hours so he can force an emergency board meeting and seize control of everything."

"Perfect," Lowin said, standing up. "Now, here is what's going to happen. You are going to sign your immediate resignation letter. Then, you are going to take your family and book a flight out of this country within the next sixty minutes. Because the exact second Justin realizes you failed him... he will ensure you and your family vanish permanently."

Daniel buried his face in his left hand, his broken right arm throbbing violently. He had thought Justin was a monster, but the man standing over him right now was an absolute demon.

"My wife... she won't agree to just leave everything behind," Daniel whispered.

"That's for you to handle," Lowin replied coldly. "Stay and die, or run and live. You have one hour." He looked at Damien. "Make sure he actually boards that plane."

"With pleasure," Damien smiled, pulling Daniel up by his good arm. Dale stepped forward to assist, escorting the ruined Chief out through the back exit.

Dale walked back into the room, rubbing his temples. "So what now, Vance?"

"We wait until midnight. I leave, and tomorrow morning you release an official statement stating I was let go due to a complete lack of physical evidence linking me to the scene."

"But Jade Houston's son, Mike, is screaming for blood. He's going to target the department."

"Let him," Lowin murmured, his eyes flashing. "The moment that press release drops, Mike will come directly to my office looking for answers. I'll handle him personally."

"And Justin just walks free?" Dale challenged.

"No, Dale. My team is securing his prints from Dominic's office as we speak. By tomorrow morning, you will have Justin's direct physical evidence left at the primary crime scene. The ball will be in your court."

Dale stared at him, speechless. "You're playing a highly illegal game, Vance. What if his henchmen did it and he wasn't even there?"

"He orchestrated the execution. Let him explain to a judge why his prints are on the evidence," Lowin countered shamelessly. "But be prepared... capturing him won't be easy."

"So you're going to assist with the arrest?"

"No, Dale. That's your job. I'm just a victim of a bad frame-up, remember?"

Dale rolled his eyes, a dry laugh escaping his lips. "I help you clear your name and dismantle a corrupt Chief, and this is how you repay me? Leaving me to hunt a billionaire psycho alone?"

Lowin smirked, checking his watch. 3:00 PM. "I just handed you the Chief of Police position on a silver platter, Dale. I'd say we're more than even."

---

Back in Room 402 at Sinclair Citadel, Amilah slowly stirred from her deep, heavy sleep. She blinked against the dim afternoon light and reached for her phone on the bedside table.

Her heart instantly skipped a beat, 20 missed calls from Zaria and 10 from Beryl.

The memories of the chaotic night flashed through her mind, and she realized she hadn't given her staff any updates. She quickly dialed Beryl's number, and it was answered on the first ring.

"Boss! Oh my god, where have you been? We've been frantic!"

"I'm okay, Beryl," Amilah said softly, keeping her voice calm. "I'm currently at the hospital."

"What?! Are you sick? What happened?"

"No, I'm fine. Just... a vicious witch tried to push me down a flight of stairs last night," Amilah muttered, her jaw tightening as she thought of Victoria Jackson.

"What?! Who? We are coming down to the hospital right now-"

"No, no, Beryl, don't," Amilah interrupted quickly. "It's already late. Just close up the boutique and head home. I'm being discharged tomorrow morning, you can see me then."

"Okay... please take care of yourself, boss. We were worried sick. Quick recovery."

"Thank you, Beryl. Don't stress. Good night."

Amilah ended the call, her chest tightening as the silence returned. Her mind instantly drifted to her arrogant, overbearing psycho. She reached for the TV remote, turning on the local news channels, aggressively flipping through the networks. Nothing. She hovered her thumb over Lowin's contact name. The urge to call him was suffocating. But she forced herself to drop the phone onto the sheets. No. If I call him now, he'll think I've completely forgiven him for his lies.

The door to her suite swung open. Dominic walked in, with Daniella and Annah following closely behind, carrying several insulated containers.

"Well, look who's finally awake," Dominic smiled, checking her monitors.

Annah rushed over to her side, gently grasping her hand. "How are you feeling, Amilah? Any pain?"

"Just incredibly tired... and starving," Amilah confessed, her stomach letting out a timely growl.

Dominic raised an eyebrow, a knowing, amused glint in his eyes as he took note of her sudden maternal appetite.

"Lucky for you, I prepared your favorite food," Daniella said warmly, setting the tray across her lap.

Amilah smiled, but her eyes involuntarily drifted toward the door. She fidgeted with the edge of her blanket, trying to sound casual. "Um... has anyone heard from Lowin today?"

Dominic chuckled. "Don't lose sleep over him, little girl. He's perfectly fine."

"Your man can survive a war zone, dear," Daniella reassured her, patting her shoulder. "Don't worry about him."

Annah squeezed her hand, giving her a supportive wink.

Amilah let out a soft sigh, focusing on her food, but the emptiness in her chest only grew heavier. It was freaking infuriating. She had explicitly told him to stay away from her, yet the exact second he was gone, every single cell in her body was screaming for his presence.

After finishing her meal, she spent a few hours chatting with Daniella and Annah until Dominic finally ushered them out so she could rest. But instead of leaving, Dominic pulled up a chair, staying behind to keep her company, knowing how much her mind was spinning.

"Are you babysitting me now, Doc?" Amilah teased, leaning against the pillows.

"Well, your possessive boyfriend is paying me an exorbitant amount of money to ensure you're untouched," Dominic smirked. "I'd be an i***t not to cash in."

Amilah rolled her eyes. "You are entirely too greedy."

"He has money to burn, why not redirect it to my private research?" Dominic countered.

Amilah's playful expression softened, her gaze turning serious. "Dominic... will he really be okay tonight?"

"He's perfectly fine, Amilah. He'll be standing right here tomorrow morning to take you home."

Amilah nodded slowly, her eyes tracking the wall clock. 12:15 AM. Her shoulders slumped slightly. I guess he's not coming tonight, she thought, a heavy wave of disappointment washing over her.

"Try to get some sleep," Dominic instructed, standing up. "Stop overthinking."

"I've slept all day, I'm wide awake," Amilah pouted, her lips swelling into a delicious little scowl. "And I want snacks."

Dominic stopped in his tracks, raising an eyebrow. He was fully prepared to lecture her on a proper hospital diet, but the sight of her adorable, defiant pout completely shut him down. He muttered a quick defeat. "Fine. Wait here."

A few minutes later, he returned, tossing a package of dark chocolate cookies onto her bed.

"Thank you!" Amilah beamed, opening the package happily.

Dominic's lips curved into a warm smile, taking a mental note; my future niece or nephew is definitely going to be a foodie, he thought, before stepping out and shutting the door behind him.

Amilah happily munched on her cookies, turning on a soft playlist on her phone to fill the quiet room.

Twenty minutes later, the heavy door to her suite clicked, sliding open with absolute silence. A tall, massive shadow slipped into the darkened room, stepping toward the side of her bed. He leaned down, his familiar, intoxicating scent of expensive cologne and rich leather instantly wrapping around her senses.

"Hey, little bird," Lowin whispered, his voice a deep, gravelly rasp.

Amilah gasped, her heart leaping into her throat as she abruptly sat up. "Lowin?! You... you came?"

Lowin let out a low, rich chuckle at the raw excitement in her eyes. Before she could even process his presence, his large hand tangled into the hair at the back of her neck, pulling her forward as his lips captured hers in a deep, burning, desperate kiss. His tongue forcefully parted her lips, claiming her mouth with an intense hunger that left them both completely breathless and panting against each other's skin.

"I missed you," he murmured against her lips, his large thumb slowly tracing the soft line of her jaw.

Amilah's face was burning, her fingers nervously twisting the fabric of her sheets in the darkness. "Can I... can I turn on the bedside lamp?"

"No," Lowin whispered, his eyes flashing in the shadows. "Dominic will personally execute me if he finds out I broke into his wing after midnight."

Amilah blinked, her pulse racing. "How did you even get past the guards outside?"

"They know exactly who I am sweetheart."

"Oh..." Amilah breathed, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs.

Lowin leaned down further, his massive chest pressing flush against her blankets, trapping her completely beneath his shadow. His thumb swept across her bottom lip, his gaze dropping to her mouth with a dangerous, heavy possessiveness.

"Now... where were we, little bird? I believe Dominic interrupted a rather promising conversation this morning. Let's finish exactly where we left off."