Chapter 2

The next morning, Ethan stood before Marcus Thorne, head of Vanderbilt security.

Thorne' s office was opulent, a reflection of the family' s immense wealth.

"I request to be released from service, sir."

Thorne, a man built like a reinforced door, raised an eyebrow.

"Released? Cole, you' ve been with the family for a decade. You know things."

Ethan met his gaze. "I do."

"Then you know the severance protocol for operatives at your level. 'The Gauntlet.' "

Ethan' s jaw tightened. He knew it. A brutal, ritualized ordeal.

Designed to ensure loyalty through pain, or to break those who dared to leave, ensuring they were no threat.

"I am aware of the protocol."

Thorne leaned back. "It' s not a pleasant experience. Few request it. Fewer still walk away whole."

"I understand the risks."

"It will be scheduled. Ten days from now."

Ethan' s mind registered the date. Seraphina' s wedding day.

Of course. A final, symbolic tying of his departure to her new life.

"I accept the terms."

Later, from a discreet observation point, Ethan watched Seraphina in the estate gardens.

Julian Astor was with her, looking pale and frail even in the morning sun.

She was teaching him to hold a small pistol, her hand guiding his.

She laughed, a light, airy sound that used to make Ethan' s chest ache.

Now, it was just noise.

When a servant called Seraphina away for a moment, Julian' s demeanor shifted.

The charming, delicate façade dropped.

His eyes, cold and assessing, found Ethan standing by the greenhouse.

"You," Julian called out, his voice thin but sharp. "Bodyguard. Come here."

Ethan approached, his face impassive.

Julian pointed to a large, ornate metal grate set into the greenhouse floor, sunlight already heating its surface.

"Kneel there. Warm it for my feet. They get chilled so easily."

Ethan' s gaze flickered to the grate, then back to Julian. It was a petty, cruel order.

He complied, sinking to his knees on the hot metal.

The heat began to seep through his trousers almost immediately.

Seraphina returned, smiling at Julian.

Suddenly, Julian cried out, stumbling back from the grate.

"My foot! Oh, it burns!"

He gestured vaguely towards a small, overturned heat lamp near Ethan.

"He knocked it over! Clumsy oaf! It touched my shoe!"

Seraphina rushed to Julian' s side, her face etched with concern.

She knelt, fussing over Julian' s perfectly fine, expensive leather shoe, ignoring the slight redness on his ankle he was dramatically displaying.

She didn' t look at Ethan, whose knees were now searing from the prolonged contact with the heated metal.

Ethan remained kneeling, silent, his expression unchanged.

He pushed the pain down, a familiar exercise.

Later that night, as he applied a thin layer of stolen antiseptic cream to his raw knees in his small, spartan room, his door opened silently.

Seraphina stood there, a small jar in her hand.

She said nothing, just knelt and began to gently apply a soothing balm to his burns.

Her touch was surprisingly gentle.

"Julian suspects," she murmured, not meeting his eyes. "About us. He' s jealous."

Ethan remained silent.

Her words were a poor excuse for Julian' s sadism.

She finished, then looked up at him, her eyes searching his.

"I' m assigning you as his personal bodyguard until the wedding. Keep him placated. Endure his provocations. After the wedding, you' ll be reassigned. Back to me."

A test, or a manipulation?

He didn' t care anymore.

"As you wish, Miss Vanderbilt."