Chapter 4 Friday 5am

THALIA POV

"She's awake. Set the table."

Not Marcus's voice. Not Vaughn's.

I open my eyes-complete darkness. I'm blindfolded.

"You're playing a dangerous game." Damien's voice, unmistakable.

I test my limbs. Legs free. Arms unbound. I'm on a bed, and the scent surrounding me is familiar: bergamot and vanilla. My custom candle-the one I make because store versions never match my father's recipe.

"I'm making things fast and easy for her." Carlos, closer than expected.

Footsteps retreat. A door closes.

I rip off the blindfold. Carlos stands at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, watching with dead eyes.

Fuck. He captured me.

"Took you forever to wake up. Bathroom's there." He points forward but I refuse to look in case he stabs me

" Get dressed. Let's continue from last night."

More words than I've heard him speak at once. My throat is sandpaper-dry. He could have killed me while I was unconscious.

The room is massive-double the lounge's size. Everything dark: black furniture, charcoal walls, slate curtains. But there on the nightstand burns my candle.

"This isn't my room."

"True. It's mine. Go wash up."

He disappears through another doorway.

I'm in Carlos's bedroom.

Adrenaline floods my system. My mission crashes back into focus.

I find my purse on the bed.

Fuck!

I dump the contents. Scissors, Q-tip. I open the hidden zip-all three cameras still there. Relief makes me dizzy.

My gun. Where's my gun?

I search frantically, find it under the pillow. He left it within reach while I slept, vulnerable and unconscious.

What game is he playing?

No time. I check the clock: 5:14 AM.

My wake up time.

The room's layout becomes clear as I move. The bathroom faces the bed. Another door sits across the his bed, down three small steps. I creep toward it, cameras clutched in my palm.

It's an office. His office. Empty.

I don't let myself look around. I place the first camera underneath his desk with the mic facing out. The adhesive holds immediately.

One down.

I peek through the doorway-the bedroom remains empty.

Back in the bedroom, I position the second camera behind his bedside lamp, angled to capture the bed and the room's main entrance.

Confirm, Mic on.

The third one goes back in my purse. If I'm lucky, I'll find somewhere more valuable to place it later. A safe room. A weapons cache. Something that will give Shadow the leverage we need.

I should call Marcus. I search for my phone but can't find it.

𝐻𝑒'𝑠 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑏𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑦 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ it

I scoff. It's clean as grave thanks to Vaughn's tech knowledge.

Least of my worries. I'll find a way to reach Marcus later.

A smile spreads across my face . Marcus will see everything through these feeds-meetings, phone calls, vulnerabilities. The reality settles in: after six years, I'm inside his sanctuary

I'm finally, finally making progress.

I actually do a small victory dance toward the bathroom.

Then I stop cold.

All my products lined up on the counter. My shampoo. My specific Portland body wash. My toothbrush.

But no clothes. Just his-the shirt from last night, boxer briefs that might be clean.

How does he have all this?

Twenty minutes later, I emerge drowning in his clothes. The shirt hangs to mid-thigh.

Carlos sits at a small table positioned near the floor-to-ceiling windows. A chessboard waits between two place settings. Toast. Coffee. Water

"You can't be serious. It's not even six AM."

"We had a deal. But you passed out."

His hand is bandaged. White gauze.

The blood.

I scan the room quickly

No sign of anyone except the peppery, woody scent that I'm beginning to recognize as distinctly Carlos. We're alone. I'm trapped if he becomes a threat.

"How did you get my candle?" I ask as I sit.

"I had someone pick it up." He moves his knight.

"The candle is custom-made. Not available retail."

"Then I guess it's not that special."

His nonchalance is more unsettling than anger. He either broke into my apartment or knows more about me than he should.

Neither is good.

We play. He's calm, composed. I lose pieces carelessly.

"You must be trusting, bringing a stranger home."

His eyes travel down my body slowly-lingering on how his shirt maps every curve, nipples visible through thin fabric.

I match his stare. He picks up my half-eaten toast and bites exactly where my mouth was.

My lips part, breathe hitch

He leans back, legs spreading wider as he chews. Each movement hammers in my chest.

Tank top showing muscled arms. Hair down. Tongue piercing visible when he licks his lips as he stares a bit longer between my lips and chest

Dangerous edges and casual dominance.

"You intend to hurt me, pretty doll?"

Cocky amusement. Like the thought is laughable.

"I can try."

He quirks an eyebrow, gaze back at my visible nipple.

"It's rude to stare"

"You're wearing my shirt"

"You didn't give me another option"

I make another move. He doesn't look away from my face when he plays

"You're 𝑛𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑑 underneath my shirt"

He enunciates the word and I roll my eyes.

Carlos eyes never left my body

It's past seven when I finally win. Now he's handing me his bag, rattling off his schedule: Warehouse, shipments, meetings,

as we wait for the elevator.

"What am I expected to do at this job?"

"Be you."

I snort.

"If I've heard of ways to get killed quickly, it's by being yourself."

He chuckles-low and rusty.

"Think ahead. Be discreet. Intelligent. Comfortable around the men and woman I meet."

Woman. Singular. Not women.

Maybe that's why he needs a female PA.

"What's my pay?"

"Enough to ensure you never need money again."

"Like a billion dollars?"

"Yes."

Of course.

"Can I have my phone now?"

"As my PA, it's being checked for security. You'll get it back later."

"As my PA, it's being checked for security. You'll get it back later"

I mimic his voice under my breath. His mouth twitches

Surprise... His car is white.

No driver.

I slide in, hyperaware I haven't contacted Marcus since last night. My smartwatch is gone too.

Carlos starts the engine.

"Where are we going?"

"Your apartment."

My head whips toward him as I grab his wrist with force that could've caused an accident.

"NO."

Every surveillance photo is in that apartment. Every note. Four years of intel hidden behind a false panel. My TV connects to field cameras. If he walks in. Goes wrong room, press my TV...

Six years of work. Gone.

"We can't go there."

He drives ignoring me

"We can't," I say again, desperate.

He doesn't respond. Just pulls out and heads toward the exit.

No watch. No way to signal Marcus. No way to warn him Carlos is about to walk into evidence of my obsession, my hunt for revenge.

My heart hammers in my throat.

Live to kill Carlos.

But right now, I'm not sure I'll survive the next hour.