Page 41 of High Reward

I nod, decision made. “I’ll be at the house. Keep me updated on everything. And Owen, send me the security details for Trinity’s hospital room as soon as you have them. I want to make this visit happen as soon as possible.”

“Will do,” Owen says, already turning back to his screens.

I head for the door, the weight of everything pressing down on me with each step. Three days to save everything we’ve built. Three days to protect the women I love. Three days to end Phineas Draven before Hunter Novak ends us.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. A text from Grace:

Grace:We’re OK. Missing you. Come home soon?

Something in my chest loosens just a fraction. They’re safe. For now. And I intend to keep them that way, no matter what it costs.

I text back.

On my way.

As the elevator carries me down to the parking garage, I make a mental list of what needs to happen next. Security briefing for Liliana. Update from Owen about Grace’s stalker. Preparations for whatever move we make against Draven. It’s too much for three days, but failure isn’t an option. Not when Grace and Liliana are counting on me.

Not when I’m finally building something worth protecting.

Chapter 12

Lili

Istandinfrontof the mirror, dressed in a pair of simple black slacks and a cream-colored silk blouse. Conservative. Respectable. The kind of outfit that says nothing at all, which is exactly the point. My hair is pulled back in a neat twist at the nape of my neck. I look like a woman visiting a sick friend, not a hostage about to walk into a viper’s nest.

The bedroom door opens without a knock. Victor steps inside, his presence filling the space, his dark suit a stark contrast to theroom’s neutral tones. He’s holding something black and bulky in his hands.

My eyes fix on it. A vest. Heavy-duty, tactical.

“No.” The word is quiet, but firm.

He walks toward me, his expression unreadable. “You’ll wear it.”

“It’s overkill, Victor.”

“It’s survival.” He holds it out to me.

I don’t take it. Instead, I cross my arms over my chest. “I’m walking into a hospital, not a war zone. Owen said security would be airtight.”

“Owen’s security is for when you’re inside the building. This is for the walk from the car to the door. The walk from the door to her room. Every step where a window has a clear shot.” He takes another step closer. I can smell the clean, sharp scent of his soap. “You will wear it, Liliana.”

“I’m not a package to be armored and delivered.” My voice is rising, and I hate it. He has me backed into a corner where backing down seems weak, but giving in would soothe the tension in his shoulders.

He doesn’t react, just watches me, his brown eyes holding mine. The silence stretches. He doesn’t need to raise his voice. His stillness is more potent than any shout.

“Then you’re not going,” he says. Calm. Unmovable. Final.

The air leaves my lungs. He means it. After all of this, after the argument with Hunter, the careful planning, he would keep me away from the hospital over this. Because he can.

Rage, hot and sharp, cuts through me. I snatch the vest from his hand. The weight surprises me, pulling my arm down. “Fine.”

I turn my back to him, holding the heavy thing against my chest. With a huff, I pull the blouse from my pants and shrug it off and then work the vest over my head. It’s awkward andstiff, smelling of nylon and something metallic. The straps are confusing, and my fingers fumble with the Velcro.

A moment later, his hands are on my shoulders, turning me around. He says nothing as he expertly pulls the straps, tightening them until the vest is snug against my ribs, a suffocating second skin. It presses into my collarbones, restricting my breathing. A constant, heavy reminder of the bullet that hit Trinity.

I look down at the ugly black shell against the cream silk. “This is ridiculous.”

“It’s non-negotiable.” He steps back, his eyes scanning the fit. He holds my blouse out and helps me put it back on, smoothing the fabric over the vest’s rigid lines. It’s barely noticeable, but I’ll feel it with every breath.