Emily's POV
The phone buzzed against Marco's leg like an angry insect. ROSSI. Emily stared at it, trapped in the silent, steel cocoon with the unconscious bodyguard and the buzzing device. Should she answer it? What would she even say?
Before she could decide, the vibration stopped. A second later, the monitors in the safe room flickered. The views of the wrecked penthouse were replaced by a single live feed from what looked like a car interior. Alexander's face filled the screen, his features hard and bathed in the greenish glow of a dashboard.
"Emily." His voice came through a hidden speaker, clear and tight with controlled fury. "I see you. Are you injured?"
She scrambled closer to the monitor. "I'm okay. Marco… he's hurt. He's bleeding. He's in here with me."
Alexander's jaw clenched. A muscle ticked in his cheek. "How bad?"
"A cut on his side. It's deep. He passed out." Her own voice shook. "He told me about the backup panic button. It sealed the doors. They… they came through the window. They took something from the security panel."
"I know," Alexander said, his eyes flicking to something off-screen. "I'm two minutes out. The system failure triggered a silent alert off-site. My team is securing the building now. The safe room door will not open until my biometrics confirm it on-site. Do you understand? No one can open that door but me. Not even Marco."
She nodded, numb.
"Did they speak to you? Did they give any demands?" His questions were rapid and precise.
"The intercom… before it all happened. A distorted voice. Called me a 'little bird.' Said walls could be climbed." She took a shuddering breath. "They weren't trying to take me. They just wanted to show they could get in. They took a hard drive and left."
Alexander's expression darkened into something truly terrifying. It wasn't rage; it was a cold, absolute promise of annihilation. "Silas isn't this clever. Or this bold. This is a declaration of war from someone else. Someone who wants me to know they're not afraid of my home, my security, or my rules."
He leaned closer to his camera, his gaze piercing through the screen. "Listen to me, Emily. You did well. You saved Marco's life by getting him into that room. Now, you just have to wait. I am coming. Do not open that door for any reason. Do you hear me? Any reason?"
The screen went dark, reverting to the external camera feeds.
Silence again, but now it was an expectant silence. The calm after a bomb has gone off, waiting for the responders. She checked Marco's pulse. It was thready but there. She found a first-aid kit bolted to the wall and used gauze to put pressure on his wound, the way she'd seen in a first-aid course years ago. He groaned but didn't wake.
Minutes ticked by. Then, on the monitor showing the penthouse interior, she saw movement.
Men in black tactical gear, armed with rifles, swept through the space with military precision. They checked corners, the broken window, and the sealed doors. One of them, a large man with a shaved head, she recognized as Viktor, spoke into a mic. "Clear. No hostilities. Structural breach at the window wall. Primary system compromised."
A moment later, the heavy locks on the safe room door disengaged with a series of solid clunks. The door hissed open.
Alexander stood there.
He filled the doorway, still in his suit from earlier, but his jacket was gone, his sleeves rolled up. He smelled like night air and cold anger. His eyes went first to Marco, assessing the injury with a sharp, clinical glance. He gave a curt nod to two men behind him, who immediately moved in with a collapsible stretcher.
Then his gaze found Emily, huddled on the floor. He crossed the small room in two strides and crouched in front of her. He didn't touch her. He just looked, his eyes scanning her face, her hands, for any sign of injury.
"You're sure you're not hurt?" he asked, his voice softer now, but no less intense.
She shook her head, words failing her.
He nodded, stood, and offered her his hand. It was the same gesture from the stairs of her apartment, but different now. Not claiming. An extraction.
She took it. He pulled her gently to her feet and guided her out of the safe room, keeping his body between her and the view of the shattered main room.
The penthouse was a war zone. The magnificent wall of glass was a gaping maw to the night, letting in a cold gale. Glass shards glittered everywhere like malignant confetti. Furniture was overturned. The place where Marco had fallen was a dark, sticky stain on the concrete.
Alexander didn't let her look for long. He guided her straight to the private elevator, which was now operational again. Viktor and another man carried Marco on the stretcher into the elevator with them.
They descended in silence. The garage level was a hive of activity. More armed men. Two black ambulances with no markings. Marco was loaded into one.
Alexander led Emily to a different SUV, not the one she'd arrived in. This one was heavier, armor-plated. He opened the back door for her.
"Where are we going?" she asked, her voice small.
"Somewhere without windows," he said tersely.
He got in beside her. The SUV pulled out, part of a new convoy. This time, they didn't go to a fancy high-rise. They drove into the industrial waterfront to a nondescript, windowless concrete building that looked like a warehouse. A garage door opened, they drove inside, and it closed behind them.
They were in a stark, fluorescent-lit garage. Alexander led her through a heavy metal door, down a corridor, and into a small, functional apartment. It had a bed, a bathroom, a kitchenette, and no windows. The walls were plain white. It looked like a safe house from a spy movie.
"You'll stay here tonight," Alexander said. "This place is a ghost. No records. Untraceable. I have to go. There are things I need to do."
He was leaving her again. In another blank, secure box.
"Who were they?" she asked, wrapping her arms around herself. "If it wasn't Silas?"
Alexander paused at the door. His face was a mask of grim calculation. "The hard drive they took contained encrypted operational data. Security protocols, schedules, and network vulnerabilities. This wasn't a street gang. This was a professional intelligence grab. It means someone is planning a move. A big one. And they wanted to blind me first."
He looked at her, and for the first time, she saw something like genuine concern in his eyes. Not for his operations. For her.
"You are now at the center of a power struggle you cannot understand," he said. "Silas is a cockroach. The people who did this… they are wolves. And they just marked you to get to me."
He opened the door. "Viktor will be outside this door. Get some rest."
He left, closing the heavy door behind him with a definitive thud.
Emily sat on the edge of the hard, narrow bed. The sterile, windowless room was the safest she'd ever been. And the most alone.
She replayed the night in her head, the distorted voice, the cracking glass, the man with the empty eyes saluting her. Alexander's words echoed. They just marked you to get to me.
She wasn't just a liability he'd absorbed.
She was now a weapon someone else wanted to use against him.
And as she sat in the silent, underground room, a new, chilling thought occurred to her.
The attack was too precise. They knew about the security system, the window's specifications, and the layout. They knew how to bypass Marco.
That kind of knowledge didn't come from outside surveillance.
It came from the inside.
Someone close to Alexander had betrayed him.
And because she was now under his protection, that meant someone close to Alexander had just tried to get to her.
The enemy wasn't just out there.
The enemy was in the walls.