Chapter 7 Into the Wolf's Den

Victor's estate loomed like a nightmare carved into stone. The gate closed behind the convoy with a hiss of steel, and Emily felt the shift-the air thickening, her lungs tightening. This wasn't just a house; it was a lair. She wasn't a guest. She was bait.

Victor stepped out of the car first, smiling like a man who had just captured a queen. Emily followed, heels clicking across marble, her chin high despite the heat clawing up her spine.

She was shown to a suite that looked more like a cage disguised in velvet. Guards outside the door. Cameras in every corner. She didn't flinch.

Instead, she poured herself a glass of red wine and toasted the ceiling.

"To surveillance," she muttered, sipping.

Victor joined her not long after, walking in without knocking. "So gracious of your husband to lend you to me. I'm beginning to see your worth already."

"I'm not a library book, Victor," she said sweetly. "There's no return policy. You touch me without consent, I'll carve your eyes out with the corkscrew."

His smile faltered for just a second.

"I'm starting to see why Liam keeps you around."

"He doesn't. He just pawned me off to the devil with better lighting."

Victor laughed. "And yet you walked in willingly."

She shrugged. "I like playing with fire."

He stepped closer, but she didn't flinch. If he touched her, she'd make a statement-one that involved a broken nose and a lawsuit.

"Where's the ledger?" he asked.

"Safe," she said. "And booby-trapped."

Victor's eyes gleamed. "You're stalling."

"No," she said, swirling her wine. "I'm baiting."

Silence.

Then Victor threw back his head and laughed again. "I like you."

"Too bad," she replied. "Because I hate you."

He left after that, still smiling, still dangerous.

Emily sat alone, heart racing. She opened the drawer of the side table, found what she expected: a microphone, planted. She whispered, "Hope you're listening, Liam. I'm still alive. For now."

Miles away, Liam sat in front of a monitor, fists clenched. He had tapped into Victor's surveillance feed within an hour of her being taken.

Watching her stand up to Victor had nearly undone him.

"She's got bigger balls than you," said Celine, appearing behind him with a mug of coffee.

"Shut up."

"She's doing your dirty work while you're here sulking and drinking scotch. Typical man."

Liam turned sharply. "She volunteered."

"She went into hell alone, Liam. You let her."

"I had to."

"No," Celine said. "You chose to."

Back at the estate, Emily explored every inch of the room by night. Found three cameras, four bugs, a vent barely big enough to crawl through.

She wrote a note on the bathroom mirror in lipstick:

"If I disappear, tell the FBI he's laundering through kids' charities. Start with Buenos Aires."

Then she covered it with steam.

Victor came for her at midnight. Not with hands or threats-but with questions.

They sat in the lounge, him sipping whiskey. Her pretending to be dumber than she was.

"Tell me," he said, "does Liam ever talk in his sleep?"

Emily tilted her head. "Only when he's about to kill someone."

Victor grinned. "I'd like to hear that."

"You will," she said. "Right before he snaps your neck."

He leaned forward, voice like poison. "Careful. You're in my house now. I can do whatever I want to you."

She smiled sweetly. "And when Liam peels your skin off for fun, I'll be there to clap."

Victor stared at her for a beat. Then stood. "We'll talk tomorrow."

She waited until he was gone, then whispered to the air, "You better be watching, Westwood. Because I swear to God, I'm going to flip this whole kingdom on its head."

Back at the mansion, Liam was already on the move.

"Get me the blueprints," he told his tech team. "Every floor. Every exit. I want to know what shampoo Victor uses by sunrise."

Celine raised a brow. "You planning a rescue?"

"No," Liam said. "She doesn't need rescuing."

"Then what?"

"I'm going to blow up the den she's trapped in."

"And the ledger?"

"She doesn't have it."

Celine blinked. "Then where is it?"

Liam smiled darkly.

"Inside Victor's own damn walls."

He wasn't trading Emily for safety.

He was planting her like a bomb.

And it was only a matter of time before she exploded.