The guard never finished inhaling.
He collapsed to the floor, blood spreading quickly across the laminate in a dark, efficient spill.The man watched without expression, then stepped back as if inconvenienced by the mess.
“She was not meant to be broken,” he said quietly.“She was meant to be shaped.”
He returned to his chair and lifted his glass again, swirling the liquid thoughtfully.
“She is frightened now,” he continued, more to himself than anyone else.“Confused.Damaged by men who mistook access for ownership.”His lips curved.“That will make her dependent.”
He took a sip.
“I will find her,” he said.“I will bring her back.And I will teach her how to please me properly.”
In his mind, the outcome was inevitable.
Eliza Reed was broken.
And broken things needed him to fix them.
The phone on his desk vibrated.
He looked at it with mild irritation before answering.“Yes.”
“Sir,” the voice said, low and cautious.“We may have a location.”
The man went still.
“Explain.”
“One of our hospitality assets flagged an anomaly,” the voice continued.“A woman matching her description.Paid in cash.Small, coastal place.Middle of nowhere.The kind of restaurant people don’t go to unless they’re hiding or passing through.”
Silence stretched.
“Where,” he said.
A name was given.A state.A dot on a map so insignificant it barely deserved one.
Florida.
The man smiled.
“There you are,” he murmured.
He ended the call and reached for his jacket.
Patience was a luxury.
But now that he knew where his property was, there was no reason to wait.
