Her wrist ached where the strap dug in. She twisted slightly, shifting the pressure, testing the give in the pipe behind her.
It groaned faintly. But not enough.
She closed her eyes and sent a silent message—first to her grandfather.
I love you, Gramps. Please don’t worry. I won’t give up.
And then to Alexandros.
I should have stayed. I wanted to. I was just scared…
A tear slipped down her cheek.
Please. Help me find a way out of here. Please… let me live.
Because Zayan wouldn’t let her go—not this time.
She knew it.
His eyes…
It had been impossible to miss his intentions. Her grandfather always said eyes were the windows to a soul.
Zayan’s were empty.
Dead.
Because he had no soul left.
Legal jargon buzzed in the boardroom, as lifeless as the marble table it echoed from.
“…and as for Clause 14.7, we’ll need to renegotiate the force majeure protections before final sign?—”
Alexandros barely lifted his gaze from the contract in front of him when the door opened. It was only when he caught a flicker of movement—swift, purposeful—that his eyes darted up.
Demetrius.
His head of security rarely entered a closed meeting unless something was wrong.
And something was definitely wrong.
Demetrius’s face was pale, drawn, his mouth a grim line as he rounded the table and bent low. The whisper was sharp and clipped, but urgent enough to send a cold spike down Alexandros’s spine.
“I need a word. Privately. Now.”
Without hesitation, Alexandros rose to his feet. “Ladies. Gentlemen. I’ll return shortly.”
He crossed the room with the coiled precision of a panther sensing danger. He was almost at the door when the phone in his pocket buzzed. He reached for it instinctively—but Demetrius moved first.
The bodyguard stepped in front of him, hand raised.
Unthinkable.
Demetrius never blocked him. Ever.
“Don’t answer it yet,” Demetrius said, his voice low as he turned the screen toward Alexandros.
The name on the screen punched the air from his lungs.
