Chapter 10

The Aston Martin skidded to a halt right in front of the luxury apartment building on Fifth Avenue, blocking the entrance completely. The doorman jumped back, his mouth agape.

Devin was out of the car in a flash. He ripped the car seat from the back, unstrapped Kenzie with one hand, and tucked her inside his coat. He ran for the private elevator, Arthur and two men in black suits right behind him.

He used a master key card to override the system. The elevator shot up. The numbers climbed rapidly. 30... 40... 50.

Kenzie closed her eyes. She reached out with her mind, pushing through the static. She found Desiree's consciousness. It was buzzing with excitement, a sickening, greedy anticipation.

"Drink it... drink it... just one sip and you're mine..."

Kenzie's eyes flew open. "We're too late! She's making him drink! Kick the door!"

The elevator dinged. The hallway was silent, lined with expensive wallpaper and thick carpet. Devin didn't slow down. He walked up to the heavy oak door of the penthouse. He didn't knock. He didn't try the handle.

He took a step back, raised his leg, and kicked.

The door exploded inward. The heavy deadbolt sheared off, the wood splintering. The door slammed against the wall with a bang that shook the apartment.

In the dimly lit living room, Sterling was sitting on the sofa, a glass of whiskey raised to his lips. Desiree was draped over him, wearing a silk robe, her eyes glued to the glass.

The crash made Sterling jump. His hand jerked. The amber liquid sloshed over the rim, spilling onto his shirt.

Devin stood in the doorway, his chest heaving, his eyes wild. He looked like a demon summoned from hell.

"Devin?" Sterling gasped, lowering the glass. "What the hell are you doing?"

Desiree scrambled back, her face draining of color. The fear in her eyes was real this time.

Devin didn't speak. He crossed the room in two strides and snatched the glass from Sterling's hand. He hurled it against the marble coffee table. The crystal shattered, sending shards and liquid flying.

"Are you crazy?!" Sterling shouted, jumping to his feet. "You can't just break into my-"

"If I hadn't, by tomorrow morning, every shareholder in the company would be watching you drool and grunt on camera," Devin snarled, pointing at the wet stain on the floor. "That was laced with GHB."

Sterling froze. The anger drained from his face, replaced by a chilling realization. He looked at Desiree, who was shrinking into the corner of the sofa.

"That's not true!" she cried, her voice trembling. "It was just whiskey! I was trying to help him relax!"

Kenzie poked her head out of Devin's coat. She scanned the room, her eyes landing on the bedroom door and a decorative vase on the bookshelf. "Smoke detector in the master bedroom," she thought clearly. "And the vase on the right side of the TV. Those are the camera angles."

Devin heard her. He didn't even turn his head. "Arthur. Smoke detector in the bedroom. Vase by the TV. Smash them."

Arthur moved. Two loud crashes later, he dropped two tiny, blinking devices onto the coffee table. The red recording lights were still on.

Sterling stared at the cameras. His stomach heaved. He thought about the glass in his hand, the drink he was about to take. He looked at Desiree, really looked at her, and saw the monster hiding behind the pretty face.

"You..." Sterling's voice was a low, dangerous growl. "You set me up. You drugged me. You filmed me."

"Sterling, please, I-" she whined, reaching out for him.

Sterling lunged. He grabbed her by the shoulders, his grip like a vice, and shoved her backward. She hit the sofa hard, the breath knocking out of her lungs. He didn't choke her; he didn't need to. He leaned over her, his face inches from hers, his voice a low, terrifying snarl. "You poisonous bitch! You were going to ruin me? I will erase you. You will wish you were never born."

Desiree choked, her face turning red, her hands clawing at his wrists. The fake tears were gone, replaced by a desperate, animalistic panic.

Devin watched for a moment, letting his brother vent the rage. But when Desiree's eyes started to roll back, he stepped in.

"Enough," Devin said, his voice cold. He grabbed Sterling's shoulder and pulled him back. "Don't touch her. You'll leave marks. Arthur, bag her and the cameras. Call the lawyers. I want her charged with attempted sexual assault, blackmail, and possession of illegal substances."

Arthur hauled Desiree to her feet. She was gasping, her silk robe disheveled, her mascara running. She looked pathetic and broken.

As the security team dragged her out of the apartment, Kenzie watched from the safety of Devin's arms. The tension in the room began to dissipate, leaving behind the heavy scent of broken wood and spilled whiskey.

"Round one," Kenzie thought, a weary but satisfied sigh echoing in her mind. "We won. But this is just the beginning."

Devin looked down at the baby in his arms. Her eyes were drooping, the exhaustion of the fever and the telepathic strain finally catching up to her. He gently adjusted his coat, wrapping her tighter.

He didn't say a word.