The Mafia Assassin's Fated Alpha

The man standing in front of me had thirty seconds left to live.

He didn't know that yet.

He was too busy staring at the gun in my hand, his expensive suit soaked with rain and his breathing becoming increasingly uneven. Behind him, the office door remained locked. Two security guards lay unconscious outside, and the building's cameras had been disabled three minutes ago.

I had planned everything carefully.

Or at least, I thought I had.

"You don't have to do this," he said, raising both hands. "Whatever Marcello promised you, I can offer you more."

I almost laughed.

People always made the same mistake when they found themselves on the wrong side of a gun. They assumed everyone had a price.

"You're wasting your time."

"Think about it." His eyes moved toward the desk. "You don't even know what you're involved in."

My finger paused against the trigger.

I had been hired to retrieve a small black drive from his office. Don Marcello had given me the man's name, the building's layout, and a deadline. He hadn't explained what was stored on the drive, and I hadn't asked.

Questions were dangerous in my line of work.

But the man wasn't bargaining like someone who wanted to save his life. He looked more concerned about what would happen if I pulled the trigger.

"What am I involved in?" I asked.

His gaze shifted toward the dark window behind me.

For a second, I thought he was looking for a way to escape.

Then he smiled.

"Ask your master what happened to the last girl he trained."

Before I could respond, the lights went out.

A sharp crack split the darkness.

I threw myself behind the desk as something struck the wall where I had been standing. The room was completely dark, but I didn't panic. I had been trained to move without relying on sight, to listen for changes in breathing, and to recognize the difference between someone approaching and someone preparing to attack.

Footsteps crossed the room.

Then a door slammed.

When the emergency lights finally flickered on, the man was gone.

So was the black drive.

I rose slowly, my gun still raised, and scanned the room.

The office had one entrance. I had been close enough to reach it before anyone could pass, yet I hadn't seen anyone leave.

That was impossible.

My phone rang.

Don Marcello's name appeared on the screen.

I answered immediately.

"The target escaped," I reported.

"How?"

"The lights went out. Someone entered the room, and the drive is missing."

There was a brief silence.

"You were given one assignment, Clara."

"I know."

"Then perhaps you should have concentrated on completing it instead of entertaining a conversation."

My expression tightened.

How did he know?

He hadn't been in the room. He couldn't have seen what happened, yet he spoke as though my failure had been entirely my fault.

"I'll find the drive," I said.

"You have ten minutes before the police arrive. Leave."

The call ended.

I lowered my phone, but the man's warning remained in my mind.

Ask your master what happened to the last girl he trained.

I had heard rumors about others Don Marcello had taken under his protection. Most never stayed long enough for me to meet them. Whenever I asked, he said they weren't suited to the work.

I had never questioned him.

I wasn't about to start now.

I secured my weapon, checked the corridor, and left through the service exit. Rain washed over my face as I stepped onto the street, and within minutes, the building disappeared behind me.

My phone vibrated again.

DON MARCELLO: Come to my office. Immediately.

I stared at the message.

Apparently, my failed mission wasn't the end of my problems.

It was only the beginning.

---

Don Marcello's residence stood behind tall iron gates and a wall that made the property look more like a fortress than a home. Security cameras covered every entrance, and armed men guarded the grounds.

I had lived within those walls for most of my life.

They had trained me there, taught me how to fight there, and turned me into someone who could enter a dangerous room without allowing fear to control her decisions.

Don Marcello called it discipline.

I had never known anything else.

A guard opened the main door before I reached it.

"He's waiting for you," he said.

I followed the familiar corridor to Don Marcello's private office. The room smelled of leather, polished wood, and the expensive cigars he rarely finished. He sat behind his desk, reviewing something on his tablet.

He didn't look up when I entered.

"Close the door."

I obeyed.

"Sit."

I took the chair opposite him.

For several seconds, he continued reading. I knew better than to interrupt. Don Marcello enjoyed making people wait, especially when he wanted them to remember who held the power in a conversation.

Finally, he put the tablet down.

"Tell me what happened tonight."

I gave him a brief account of the failed mission, leaving out the man's final statement. I wanted to understand the warning myself before Don Marcello dismissed it as meaningless.

When I finished, he studied me.

"You've become careless."

"The target had help."

"Then you should have anticipated it."

"I couldn't have known the lights would fail."

"An excuse."

I pressed my lips together.

With Don Marcello, explanations rarely mattered. There was always another standard I had failed to meet.

"I'll recover the drive," I said.

"No."

The single word caught me off guard.

He opened a drawer, removed a black folder, and pushed it across the desk.

"Your next assignment begins tonight."

I glanced at the folder.

"Tonight?"

"Do you have a problem with that?"

"No, sir."

I opened it.

The first page contained a photograph of a man in a dark suit. He stood in front of a glass building, his expression cold and his eyes fixed on the camera.

His name was printed beneath the image.

CASSIAN VANGUARD.

I recognized him immediately. Almost everyone who followed business news knew the name. He owned several companies, controlled investments across multiple industries, and had a reputation for being ruthless in negotiations.

But Don Marcello wasn't interested in his business success.

A highly protected encryption code was believed to be connected to Cassian's private system.

Don Marcello wanted it.

"What does the code contain?" I asked.

"That information isn't necessary for your assignment."

"How am I supposed to retrieve something when I don't know what I'm looking for?"

"You're supposed to do what you were trained to do."

His gaze hardened.

"You have thirty days, Clara. Get the code and deliver it to me. I don't care how you accomplish it."

Thirty days.

I looked at Cassian's photograph again.

"What's the security situation?"

"Extensive. Cameras, private guards, restricted access, and a security chief named Adrian. Cassian is careful about who enters his personal space."

"Then direct access will be difficult."

"Which is why you'll find another way."

He slid another document toward me. It contained information about Cassian's residence, his daily schedule, and the people responsible for maintaining his household.

One position had been marked.

LIVE-IN MAID.

I looked up.

"You want me to enter his home?"

"I want you to retrieve the code."

"And you think a maid can get close enough?"

"I think you can become whatever the situation requires."

I studied the documents again.

A direct break-in would be dangerous. Cassian's security system was too sophisticated to underestimate, and repeated attempts would only alert his security team.

But someone who belonged inside the residence would have opportunities an outsider could never obtain.

I could learn the household's routine, observe the security arrangements, and identify weaknesses without immediately raising an alarm.

It was risky.

It was also the most practical option.

"I'll apply for the position," I said.

Don Marcello leaned back in his chair.

"Remember who you are, Clara. You weren't raised to make decisions based on your feelings. You were raised to finish the job."

I closed the folder.

"I understand."

"See that you do. Failure will not be tolerated."

I stood and tucked the documents beneath my arm.

As I reached the door, his voice stopped me.

"One more thing."

I turned.

"Cassian Vanguard has enemies you know nothing about. If you discover something unusual, you report it to me. You do not investigate it yourself."

"Understood."

I left his office without another word.

But as I walked down the corridor, the man's warning returned to my thoughts.

What had happened to the last girl Don Marcello trained?

And why had he seemed so certain that I didn't know the truth about my own life?

I pushed the questions aside.

I had a mission, and I intended to complete it.

---

Three days later, I stood outside Cassian Vanguard's penthouse with a small suitcase beside my feet and a false identity prepared down to the last detail.

I had applied through a household staffing agency. My references had checked out, my employment records had been verified, and my interview with the household manager had gone smoothly.

Mrs. Hayes had hired me that morning.

Everything had worked exactly as planned.

Almost.

The moment I stepped into the penthouse, I noticed the security cameras positioned at the corridor intersections. A guard stood near the elevator, while another watched the entrance from behind a discreet security desk.

The place was beautiful, expensive, and carefully controlled.

It was also going to be a nightmare to investigate.

"You're Clara Vance?" a woman asked.

I turned toward Mrs. Hayes, who held a tablet against her chest.

"Yes, ma'am."

"I'm Mrs. Hayes. I'll be responsible for your schedule and duties. You will follow the household rules, respect the residents' privacy, and never enter a restricted area without permission."

"Of course."

She studied me briefly before gesturing toward the corridor.

"Come with me. I'll show you your quarters and explain your responsibilities."

I followed her, making a mental note of every camera and doorway we passed.

Then we reached a set of dark double doors.

Mrs. Hayes stopped.

"That is Mr. Vanguard's private study. You are not to enter unless he specifically instructs you to do so."

I looked at the doors.

The private study was one of the first places I wanted to investigate, although I had no proof that the code was kept there.

"I understand," I replied.

"Good. Mr. Vanguard values his privacy, and he has very little patience for people who disregard his instructions."

She continued down the corridor.

I followed, keeping my expression neutral.

We had barely taken a dozen steps when a door opened behind us.

Mrs. Hayes stopped so abruptly that I nearly walked into her.

"Mr. Vanguard," she said.

I turned.

A man stepped out of the private study.

He was taller than I expected, dressed in a dark shirt with his sleeves rolled to his forearms. His expression was unreadable, and his presence seemed to change the atmosphere around him.

The guard near the elevator straightened immediately.

Another lowered his head.

I frowned slightly.

It was an unusual reaction to a man's appearance, even one as wealthy and powerful as Cassian Vanguard.

His gaze moved from Mrs. Hayes to me.

It stopped on my face.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

I had studied his photograph and memorized the details of his public life, but the man standing before me was more intimidating in person. Something about him demanded attention without him having to raise his voice.

"Who is she?" he asked.

Mrs. Hayes cleared her throat.

"Clara Vance, sir. The new maid I told you about."

"I told you not to hire anyone."

Mrs. Hayes shifted uncomfortably.

"The previous maid left unexpectedly, sir. I needed someone to take over her duties."

"And you decided my instructions didn't matter?"

"No, sir. I only thought-"

"Clearly, you didn't think carefully enough."

The temperature in the corridor seemed to drop.

I glanced at Mrs. Hayes. Her shoulders had stiffened, and she was staring at the floor.

Even the guards had gone quiet.

Cassian hadn't shouted. He hadn't moved toward anyone. Yet everyone around him behaved as though one wrong word could have serious consequences.

I had seen powerful men intimidate others before, but there was something different about the way his authority filled the corridor.

For one strange second, I felt an unfamiliar pressure against my chest.

I ignored it.

Perhaps I was tired from the mission. Perhaps the tension of being in a stranger's home was getting to me.

Whatever it was, I refused to let it affect my judgment.

Cassian turned his attention back to me.

"How long have you been working here?"

"I started today, sir."

"Then let me make something clear."

His voice remained quiet, but the warning in it was unmistakable.

"You will follow the rules of this household. You will not enter rooms you haven't been assigned to clean, and you will not touch anything that doesn't belong to you."

"Yes, sir."

His eyes remained on me.

"And stay away from my private study."

I raised my gaze just enough to meet his.

"Of course, sir."

Something flickered across his face.

It was so brief that I might have imagined it, but I had spent years learning to notice the smallest changes in a person's behavior.

He didn't trust me.

Not even a little.

"Mrs. Hayes, show her to her quarters," he ordered.

"Yes, sir."

I picked up my suitcase and followed Mrs. Hayes down the corridor.

I waited until we were out of his hearing before speaking.

"Does Mr. Vanguard always react that way to new employees?"

Mrs. Hayes glanced at me.

"Mr. Vanguard expects his instructions to be followed. That's all you need to know."

Her answer was quick, almost rehearsed.

I decided not to press her.

For now, I had more important things to worry about.

I needed to understand the security system, learn the household's routine, and find a way into Cassian's private system before my thirty days were up.

But as I followed Mrs. Hayes toward the staff quarters, I couldn't shake the feeling that I had stepped into something far more complicated than a simple theft.

Cassian Vanguard wasn't merely a wealthy man who disliked strangers.

There was something about him that I couldn't explain.

And for the first time since accepting the assignment, I wondered whether Don Marcello had deliberately kept me in the dark about the man I was supposed to rob.

I tightened my grip on my suitcase.

I had thirty days to retrieve the code.

I couldn't afford to become distracted by questions I had no time to answer.

Because getting inside Cassian Vanguard's penthouse had been easy.

Surviving whatever waited behind its locked doors might be a different matter entirely.

The crash came from the east wing just as I was unpacking my last pair of shoes.

I paused with one shoe in my hand. A second crash followed, then a man's voice shouting something I couldn't make out. Footsteps rushed past my door.

I set the shoe down and listened.

"Get the east corridor covered!"

The man sounded like he was used to being obeyed.

I opened my door.

Two security guards hurried toward the far end of the hallway, their hands resting near their weapons. One spoke into his radio while the other pulled a door shut behind him.

I stepped into the corridor.

A woman appeared around the corner, moving so quickly that she nearly collided with me. Mrs. Hayes caught my arm to steady herself.

"Why are you out here?"

"I heard the noise."

"Then you should have stayed in your room."

She started pulling me back, but another crash made her turn. The colour drained from her face, and I realised she was frightened.

"Go inside, Clara. Lock the door."

"What happened?"

"An intruder got into the east wing. That's all you need to know."

"But-"

"Please, Clara. Just do as I say."

She hurried away before I could ask anything else.

An intruder.

She had no idea who I really was.

I glanced at the security cameras lining the ceiling. If someone had made it into a restricted part of the penthouse, either the security team had missed something or the intruder knew exactly where to go.

Neither possibility was comforting.

I should have returned to my room. Instead, I followed the noise.

At the entrance to the east wing, three guards stood around a man kneeling on the marble floor. His shirt was torn at the shoulder, and blood ran from a cut above his eyebrow. Two guards held his arms, but he kept twisting his body, testing their grip.

He wasn't frightened.

He was waiting for something.

Then I saw Cassian Vanguard.

He stood a few feet away, his sleeves rolled up, watching the prisoner with an expression that gave nothing away.

"Where is the drive?" Cassian asked.

The man spat blood onto the floor.

"Go to hell."

Cassian glanced at one of the guards. "Search him again."

"We already have, sir."

"Then search him properly."

The guard reached into the man's jacket. Without warning, the prisoner drove his head backward, catching the guard across the nose. As the man stumbled, the prisoner twisted free of the second guard and slammed his shoulder into the third.

Everything happened at once.

One guard reached for his weapon while another shouted for Adrian. The prisoner grabbed a heavy metal ornament from a nearby table and swung it at the nearest man.

Cassian stepped forward.

"Enough."

The single word cut through the shouting.

The prisoner turned toward him, breathing hard. Then he smiled.

"You're still giving orders as if you're untouchable."

Cassian's expression didn't change.

"You broke into my home, assaulted my men, and now you're refusing to answer a simple question." He took a step closer. "You're running out of opportunities to make this easy."

The stranger wiped the blood from his eyebrow.

"You think your money makes you powerful?"

"No."

Cassian moved closer.

"I think you already know what makes me powerful."

The man gave a crooked smile.

"You're not the only Alpha in this city."

The guards went still.

I looked from one face to another, waiting for someone to laugh or challenge him. Nobody did.

Then Cassian's eyes turned gold.

Not brown with a golden reflection. The colour spread across his irises, bright enough to be unmistakable even from where I stood.

A growl rolled out of his chest.

The sound was so deep that I felt it in my ribs. One guard immediately lowered his head. The others followed, their shoulders stiff and their eyes fixed on the floor.

I gripped the edge of the wall.

What was he?

The prisoner staggered backward. His confidence vanished as he stared at Cassian, as though the man standing before him had become something else entirely.

Cassian's voice dropped.

"Kneel."

The stranger's knees struck the marble.

I hadn't seen him decide to obey. One moment he was standing; the next, he was on the floor, his hands braced against the tiles as he struggled to lift his head.

My fingers loosened against the wall.

That wasn't fear alone. I had seen men frightened enough to beg for their lives, but this man's body had responded before he could even argue.

Cassian moved closer.

"Now tell me who sent you."

The stranger clenched his jaw, struggling against whatever force held him down.

"You can make me kneel, Vanguard. You can't make me talk."

Cassian's golden eyes narrowed.

"We'll see."

For a moment, I thought the confrontation was over.

Then the prisoner's expression changed. He let out a strained breath, planted one foot against the floor, and forced himself upright. Before the guards could react, he drove his elbow into the face of the man beside him and rolled away.

A small knife appeared in his hand.

The nearest guard reached for him, but the prisoner slashed at his arm and broke through the gap.

He ran straight toward the corridor.

Toward me.

I had enough time to notice the knife, the way he held it, and the fact that his injured leg wasn't slowing him down as much as it should have.

I also had enough time to realise he expected me to move out of his way.

I didn't.

He raised the knife as he approached. I shifted to my left, letting his first strike pass close to my shoulder. His momentum carried him forward, and I caught his wrist with both hands, turning it away from my body.

He was stronger than he looked.

The knife came dangerously close to my fingers before I adjusted my grip and forced his arm outward. He cursed and tried to wrench himself free. I drove my knee into his thigh, just above the injury that had already weakened his stance.

His leg buckled.

I struck his wrist against the edge of the console table. The knife clattered to the floor.

He stared at me for half a second, surprised.

That was his mistake.

I stepped inside his reach and drove my shoulder into his chest, forcing him backward. He hit the wall hard enough to knock a framed photograph crooked. Before I could secure his arm, he grabbed a handful of my uniform and yanked me toward him.

The fabric tightened around my throat.

I hooked my foot behind his ankle and pushed against his shoulder. He lost his balance, and we both stumbled. My back struck the console table. Pain shot through my side, but I kept hold of his wrist.

He swung at my face with his free hand.

I ducked. His fist struck the wall instead.

"Let go of me!" he snarled.

"Stop fighting, then."

I twisted his arm behind him, trying to pin him against the wall.

He laughed in my face and slammed his head backward.

I moved just in time, but the blow grazed my cheek. My eyes watered. He tore free, snatched the knife from the floor, and turned toward me again.

I reached for the nearest object and grabbed a heavy brass candlestick from the console table.

His eyes flicked toward it.

"You're a maid," he said, breathing hard. "Put that down."

I tightened my grip.

"You're the one holding a knife."

He rushed me.

I swung the candlestick at his forearm. The impact knocked his weapon aside, and the knife skidded beneath a cabinet. He grabbed my wrist before I could strike again and squeezed until the candlestick slipped from my hand.

For a moment, we struggled over it.

Then he drove me backward.

My shoulder struck the wall, and his hand closed around my throat.

The corridor blurred at the edges. His face was inches from mine, his breath hot against my cheek.

"Should've stayed in your room," he muttered.

I drove my heel down onto his foot.

His grip loosened just enough.

I caught his thumb, twisted his hand away from my throat, and turned beneath his arm. When he stumbled forward, I shoved him hard against the wall and drove my forearm across his upper back, keeping him bent while I reached for his wrist.

He fought like a man who knew he couldn't afford to be captured.

I fought like someone who had been taught never to give an opponent a second chance.

The distinction mattered.

He tried to throw his weight backward. I shifted aside, but his elbow caught my ribs. A sharp breath escaped me, and my grip slipped.

He spun around and struck me across the face.

My head snapped to the side.

For a moment, all I could hear was the ringing in my ears.

He raised his fist again.

I brought my arms up to block it, but before he could strike, a hand caught him by the back of his neck.

The stranger's feet left the floor.

Cassian lifted him as though he weighed nothing and slammed him into the opposite wall.

The impact shook the framed photograph loose. It crashed onto the marble, its glass shattering around the prisoner's legs.

Cassian stood over him.

His eyes were gold again.

"Look at me."

The stranger tried to crawl away.

Cassian caught him by the collar and hauled him upright.

"I said, look at me."

The man lifted his head.

Whatever he saw in Cassian's face made him stop struggling.

"You entered my home," Cassian said. "You attacked my security team. Then you put your hands on her."

His gaze shifted briefly toward me.

"That was the last mistake you were going to make."

The stranger grimaced.

"She attacked me first."

I pressed a hand to my throat and stared at him.

"You ran at me with a knife."

"You could've moved."

"And you could've stayed on the floor."

Cassian turned his head toward me.

For the first time since I had arrived at the penthouse, he seemed to have forgotten the man he was holding.

His eyes moved over my face, paused at the mark forming on my cheek, then dropped to my hand. I hadn't realised how tightly I'd clenched it until I noticed my fingers trembling.

"Are you injured?" he asked.

"I'm fine."

"That wasn't my question."

I lowered my hand from my throat.

"My ribs hurt. I'll survive."

Adrian appeared at the end of the corridor with two more guards. He stopped when he saw the broken frame, the overturned console table, and the knife beneath the cabinet.

His eyes settled on me before moving to the stranger pinned against the wall.

"What happened?"

"The man escaped," Cassian said.

Adrian looked at the prisoner, then at the damage around us.

"I can see that, sir. How did he get past three guards?"

"Perhaps you should ask him," I said.

Adrian's gaze shifted to me.

"I intend to ask several people a few questions."

"He came at her with a knife," Cassian interrupted.

Adrian looked at my cheek again.

"And she fought back?"

"She nearly put him through a wall," Cassian replied.

I said nothing. There wasn't much I could say that wouldn't make things worse.

Adrian walked over to retrieve the knife. He examined it briefly before handing it to one of the guards.

"Take him downstairs. Search every room he entered, and check the security footage from the last hour."

The guards seized the prisoner.

This time, he didn't fight them. As they dragged him away, he kept looking at Cassian, his face pale beneath the blood.

"You're making a mistake," he said.

Cassian straightened his cuffs.

"You made yours when you came here."

The elevator doors closed behind the prisoner and the guards.

Adrian remained beside Cassian.

"Sir, we found the east wing's service entrance unlocked. The alarm wasn't disabled. Someone used a valid access card."

"Whose?"

"We're checking."

"Check the staff cards first. Then everyone else. I want the full access log on my desk within the hour."

"Yes, sir."

Adrian glanced at me before leaving.

I didn't like the look he gave me. It wasn't the look of a man grateful that someone had helped restrain an intruder. It was the look of a security chief who had just discovered a new problem.

Cassian waited until Adrian was out of earshot.

"Come with me."

I looked at the elevator, then at him.

"Where?"

"My office."

"Am I being dismissed?"

"No."

He glanced at the broken candlestick.

"Not yet."

I followed him down the corridor, trying not to let my sore ribs show in the way I walked. He opened a door I hadn't noticed before and stepped aside to let me enter.

His office was larger than my entire staff room. A wide desk stood before a wall of windows, and several screens displayed security feeds from different parts of the building. I recognised the east corridor on one of them.

Cassian closed the door.

"Sit."

"I'd rather stand."

His gaze settled on me.

"You're either very brave or very foolish."

"I've been called both."

"By whom?"

"People who don't know me."

He pulled out a chair and sat behind his desk.

"Then let's correct that problem."

I remained where I was.

He glanced at the scrape on my cheek.

"Where did you learn to fight?"

I had expected the question. That didn't make answering it any easier.

"Growing up, I learned not to depend on other people to protect me."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the one I have."

His fingers tapped once against the desk.

"Your stance was trained. You watched his knife hand instead of his face. You used the furniture to limit his movement, and you didn't waste your strength trying to overpower him."

I kept my expression neutral.

"You noticed all that while you were busy throwing him across the corridor?"

"I notice everything that happens in my home."

He leaned back in his chair.

"And you didn't hesitate when he came at you."

"He had a knife."

"Most people would have run."

"Most people weren't standing between him and an open corridor."

For a moment, he said nothing. His gaze remained fixed on me, as though he was trying to decide whether I was telling the truth or simply giving him another excuse to investigate.

Then he opened a drawer and removed a small first-aid kit.

"Sit down, Clara."

This time, I did.

He placed the kit on the desk between us.

"Clean your cheek. Adrian will take your statement, and you'll tell him exactly what happened. Don't leave anything out."

"Understood."

I reached for the kit, but his hand remained on it.

"One more thing."

I looked up.

"Housemaids don't usually fight like that."

"Maybe you should have checked my references."

"I did."

My fingers stopped on the edge of the kit.

Cassian watched the change in my expression.

"Your employment history is unusually short. Your previous address doesn't exist, and the agency that recommended you has no record of sending you here."

I felt the room tighten around me.

He had checked my background already.

"I was told the agency had sent my documents ahead."

"That isn't what I found."

He released the first-aid kit.

"Then explain it to me."

I opened the kit and took out a piece of gauze.

"I don't know what you want me to say. I needed work. Mrs. Hayes hired me. If someone gave you the wrong paperwork, take it up with the agency."

Cassian's eyes narrowed.

"And you expect me to believe you know nothing about it?"

"I expect you to understand that I didn't hire myself."

He watched me for a moment, but I refused to look away.

Finally, he leaned back.

"You're very comfortable arguing with your employer."

"Would you prefer I agreed with everything you said?"

"Most people know better than to challenge me."

"Perhaps they have better things to do."

A brief silence followed. I couldn't tell whether he was annoyed or amused, and I wasn't about to ask.

I cleaned the blood from my cheek, refusing to let my hand shake again.

Cassian stood.

"Until I finish investigating the security breach, you won't leave this penthouse without permission."

I looked up sharply.

"You're keeping me here?"

"I'm protecting my household."

"From the man you just arrested?"

"From whoever helped him get inside."

"And if I need to go somewhere?"

"Then you'll inform me first."

I stared at him.

He had to be joking.

He didn't look like a man who joked often.

Cassian walked to the door, then paused with his hand on the handle.

"And Clara?"

"Yes?"

His eyes met mine.

"Next time someone attacks you, don't wait until they've got their hands around your throat before you finish the fight."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Next time someone attacks me, I'll be sure to ask your permission before defending myself."

His jaw tightened.

"That isn't what I meant."

"Then perhaps you should explain what you did mean."

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then he opened the door.

"Get some rest. Adrian will speak to you in the morning."

He left me alone in the office, with the first-aid kit on my lap and the security cameras still showing the empty corridor.

I had come here to steal an encryption code.

Instead, I'd fought an intruder in front of my employer, exposed training I had spent years learning to conceal, and earned the attention of a man whose eyes could turn gold and whose voice could force armed men to their knees.

Worse, Cassian Vanguard had already discovered that my employment records were false.

And I had thirty days left to get what I came for.

Cassian had fully left before I finished treating my injuries. My cheek still hurt, and every breath sent pain through my ribs. I closed the first-aid kit and headed toward the staff quarters, walking carefully and trying not to let the pain affect my movements too much.

As I walked, I noticed two guards standing near the entrance to the east wing. Another pair watched the corridor leading to the service elevator. Security was tighter than it had been before the fight.

By the time I reached my room, I had already abandoned my original plan for the morning. With security tightened and Cassian questioning my background, moving around the penthouse would be more difficult. I locked the door and sat on the edge of my bed.

Thirty days. I had just thirty days.

And Cassian Vanguard had made one thing clear: I wouldn't get near his secrets without attracting his attention first. His attention was the last thing I needed.

After everything that had happened, I needed sleep. I lay down and eventually drifted off, but a knock at my door woke me before my alarm. I checked the time. Six thirty.

I wanted to ignore it. I still needed rest, and the pain in my ribs hadn't gone away. Then the knock came again, louder this time.

"Clara Vance?" Adrian's voice came through the door. "Cassian wants you downstairs."

I got to my feet, ignoring the pain in my ribs as best I could. If Cassian wanted to see me this early, I doubted it would be a friendly conversation. When I opened the door, Adrian's eyes moved to my cheek.

"How are you feeling?"

"Fine," I replied.

"Good. Then we can talk."

He stepped aside, waiting for me to follow. I locked my door behind me and followed him, careful not to let my discomfort show. As we walked down the corridor, Adrian finally spoke.

"Why did you move toward a restricted corridor when Mrs. Hayes told you to return to your room?"

I kept my expression calm. "I heard the disturbance and wanted to know whether the danger was moving toward the staff quarters."

"Is that what Mrs. Hayes asked you to do?"

"No," I admitted. "It wasn't."

Adrian looked at me for a few moments. He didn't seem satisfied with my answer, but he didn't look surprised either.

"You moved toward an armed intruder instead of away from him," he said. "Then you disarmed him before Mr. Vanguard stepped in. Most household staff wouldn't know how to do that."

"I told Cassian that I had self-defense training."

"Training doesn't explain everything."

I looked at him. "Are you asking me a question, or have you already decided I'm lying?"

His expression remained unreadable. "I'm trying to understand why a maid with incomplete employment records has the reflexes of someone trained for dangerous situations."

I had to be careful. Adrian wasn't as easy to distract as some of the guards I'd met before.

"I worked in places where it was safer to be prepared," I said. "That's all I'm willing to discuss about my past."

He watched me for another moment before continuing down the corridor.

"Then let's discuss last night. The service entrance was opened with a valid access card. The security system wasn't disabled, and no one has admitted letting the intruder in."

"So you think someone inside helped him?"

"I think we haven't ruled anything out."

That answer told me more than he probably intended. Cassian's security team still had no clear explanation for the breach, which meant everyone in the penthouse could be questioned, including me.

We reached the main staircase. Two guards stood at the bottom, and another watched the hallway leading toward the east wing. Adrian stopped before we went any farther.

"Until the investigation is complete, staff members will be escorted through restricted areas. You'll also remain in the main service section unless Mrs. Hayes assigns you elsewhere."

I kept my reaction off my face. The new restrictions would make it harder to move around the penthouse unnoticed.

"Understood," I said.

"Good. Mr. Vanguard is waiting."

He led me into the sitting room, where Cassian stood beside the windows with a tablet in his hand. He looked as if he'd been awake for hours. His gaze moved from Adrian to me.

"Did she explain why she ignored instructions?"

"She said she was checking whether the danger was moving toward the staff quarters," Adrian replied. "Her explanation doesn't account for her combat training or the gaps in her records."

Cassian set the tablet down.

"Then we'll deal with one problem at a time." His eyes settled on me. "Clara, starting today, you will follow every instruction given by Mrs. Hayes or my security team. No wandering, no approaching restricted areas, and no attempts to investigate last night's incident."

"I understand."

"Do you?" His voice was quiet, but the question felt deliberate. "Because I have a feeling you understand more about danger than you've told us."

I held his gaze. "Perhaps I do."

For the first time, something shifted in his expression, making me wary.

"Then you should understand this too," he said. "If I discover you've lied to me about anything important, your employment here will end immediately. And you will be dealt with accordingly."

I lowered my eyes just enough to appear respectful. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

He picked up the tablet again, dismissing me without another word. I had expected tighter security after last night. I hadn't expected Cassian to put my every movement under scrutiny before breakfast. My mission had just become harder, and the man standing in my way was beginning to suspect that I wasn't who I claimed to be.

I left the sitting room without looking back. Cassian had made his warning clear, but I had no intention of abandoning my mission. What awaited me if I failed wasn't something I could afford to face. I couldn't give up just because a billionaire had decided to watch me more closely.

I returned to the staff area and found Mrs. Hayes checking the day's schedule.

"Since you're feeling well enough to work, I need you to help prepare the main sitting room," she said. "Mr. Vanguard has an important meeting this afternoon."

"With whom?" I asked before I could stop myself.

She glanced up. "That isn't part of your duties, Clara."

I lowered my eyes. "I was only asking so I would know what needed to be prepared."

"Just make sure everything is ready before noon."

I accepted the instructions and went to collect the supplies. An important meeting meant visitors, additional security, and changes to the usual routine. It didn't guarantee me access to anything useful, but it gave me a reason to pay closer attention.

By the time I finished preparing the sitting room, the penthouse had changed. Two additional guards stood outside the main entrance, and Mrs. Hayes had instructed the staff to stay away from the meeting area unless they were needed.

I was carrying a tray toward the dining room when the elevator doors opened. A tall man stepped out, dressed in a dark suit. He barely glanced at the guards before one of them stepped aside to let him pass.

"Mr. Vanguard is expecting you," the guard said.

The man gave a short nod. "I hope he has an explanation for last night's failure."

I slowed down.

Last night's failure?

I continued walking before anyone could notice my interest, but I kept my ears open as the man approached the sitting room. Cassian was waiting inside.

"You're late," he said.

"And you're dealing with a problem you should have handled already." The visitor walked past him and placed a black folder on the table. "The drive is still missing. Do you understand what happens if the wrong people get their hands on it?"

"I understand perfectly."

"Then why is it still missing?"

Cassian's expression hardened. "Someone entered my property without permission. Your people were supposed to help find the drive, but they haven't succeeded."

Your people.

I kept my expression calm as I arranged the tray on a nearby table. The visitor wasn't just another business associate. He had people of his own involved in the incident, and Cassian seemed to know it.

Then the visitor spoke again.

"You can't keep this from the other Alphas forever, Cassian. If they discover what that drive contains before we do, this agreement is finished."

My hand paused over a glass.

Other Alphas.

The intruder's words from the previous night came back to me. You're not the only Alpha in this city.

I didn't understand what their title meant in this context, but I understood the danger in their voices. Whatever was on that drive had enough value to threaten an agreement between powerful people.

I placed the last glass on the tray and turned to leave.

"Wait."

Cassian's voice stopped me. I looked back as his eyes moved from the tray to my face.

"Did you hear what we were discussing?"

The question was casual. His expression wasn't. I had one chance to answer without drawing more attention to myself.

"No, sir," I said. "I was only bringing the refreshments."

The visitor studied me. "Is she new?"

"Recently hired," Cassian replied.

"Then you should be more careful about who you let into your house."

Cassian's gaze remained on me. "I'm aware of that."

I lowered my head and left the room, keeping my pace steady until I reached the corridor. My heart was beating faster, but my thoughts were clear. The missing drive was connected to an agreement involving multiple Alphas. Someone had risked entering Cassian's penthouse to retrieve it, and now another man was demanding answers.

My original plan had been to find the encryption code and deliver it to Don Marcello. If the drive and the code were connected, I might not be the only person in this penthouse working toward the same goal.

I had almost reached the staff area when I heard the sitting room door open behind me. The visitor stepped out, adjusting his jacket as he spoke to someone behind him.

"You have until tomorrow to find that drive," he said. "After that, I can't keep the other Alphas from getting involved."

Cassian's reply came from inside the room.

"They won't get it before I do."

"And if the encryption is broken first?"

There was a brief silence.

"Then we have a much bigger problem," Cassian said.

The visitor entered the elevator, and the doors closed behind him. I stood still for a moment, pretending to adjust the tray in my hands.

The drive. The encryption. The hidden territories.

They were connected somehow, and Cassian was desperate to find the drive before the other Alphas did.

I had come here to steal an encryption code. Now I was beginning to understand why it mattered. But before I could make sense of what I'd heard, a guard appeared at the end of the corridor.

"Clara? Mr. Vanguard wants to know why you were standing outside the sitting room."

My fingers tightened around the tray. I'd been careful.

So how had he noticed me?