Chapter 26

My eyelids flutter open to find myself bound to a chair in my own living room, wrists secured tightly behind me.

"Well, well. Sleeping Beauty finally wakes up," a deep, gravelly voice mocks from the shadows. "I do enjoy it when my prey is conscious for the finale."

Ice floods my veins as the figure steps into view—a mountain of a man with a ski mask obscuring his face. His biceps bulge beneath his leather jacket, each thicker than my thigh. Everything about him radiates lethal intent, from the way he moves to the predatory gleam in his visible eye.

He settles onto my couch with unsettling familiarity, swirling my favorite merlot in my crystal glass. The bastard even kicked his boots up on my coffee table.

I test my restraints, but the ropes bite deeper into my flesh.

"Save your energy, sweetheart," he chuckles darkly. "You've been quite the nuisance, and I don't tolerate nuisances."

"Who sent you?" I demand, buying time. Surely someone noticed a break-in? The walls in my building are paper-thin.

"Let's just say you've got an admirer with deep pockets and shallow morals." His laugh booms through the room, making my skin crawl. "They want proof of your... permanent retirement."

My stomach plummets. This isn't some random thug from Ethan's world. This is a professional.

"Must be one hell of a paycheck," I say through clenched teeth. My mind races—Isabella wouldn't... would she?

"Enough to buy a small island," he confirms, drawing a hunting knife from his boot. "Now, how shall we do this? Slow and painful? Or quick and—"

I throw my weight backward before he finishes. The chair splinters on impact, white-hot pain exploding through my skull. Hollywood lied—this shit hurts.

"Clever girl," he snarls.

I'm on my feet in an instant, fumbling with the ropes as I bolt for the door. His tackle sends us both crashing into the hardwood.

"You'll pay for that," he growls, flipping me onto my back. His knee pins my hips as his free hand yanks at my sweatpants.

Panic turns my blood to acid. I buck wildly, but his weight crushes the air from my lungs.

"Please—I can double whatever they're paying!" I gasp.

His laughter curdles my stomach. "Nice try, princess."

Just as his fingers graze my bare skin, my hand closes around the shattered lamp base. The ceramic connects with his temple with a sickening crack.

He howls, clutching his head. The knife clatters to the floor between us.

I don't hesitate.

The blade sinks into his thigh just as my front door explodes inward.

Maxwell bursts through the wreckage, blood streaming down his face, flanked by two armed men. Our attacker swears violently and vanishes through the patio doors.

Sirens wail in the distance as Maxwell helps me up. My entire body trembles like a leaf in a hurricane.

Ethan and Daniel arrive with the police in a whirlwind of shouted orders. Daniel's at my side instantly, his warm hands checking for injuries while Ethan interrogates Maxwell.

"You had one job!" Ethan snarls, his knuckles white around Maxwell's collar.

"Enough!" My voice cracks. The room tilts dangerously. "My head... it's..."

Strong arms catch me as my knees give out. Two pairs of hands reach for me—Daniel's gentle and familiar, Ethan's possessive and sure.

In this moment of raw vulnerability, I don't know whose embrace I crave more. The man who's always been my rock, or the one who makes my pulse race with just a glance.

So I choose neither, letting the couch cushion absorb my silent tears instead.

Because the terrifying truth settles over me like a shroud:

Someone out there just paid a small fortune for my head.

And I have no idea why.