Page 37 of Prince of Wrath

“There is not a world in which my…” I stop myself, my temple pulsing as adrenaline floods my veins. “There is not a world in which Ella steps one foot near him. Do you understand me?”

“She would not have to approach him. We could present it as a voluntary conversation, perhaps make him believe she’s conflicted, or that he still has influence over her.”

“Have you lost your mind?” My voice drops low enough to sharpen. “I’ll do it. I’ll find a way. I’ll challenge him to a fucking fistfight on the terrace if necessary, but stop saying her name. She’s…”

I pause. Mental agility. Stop. Breathe. Be where your feet are. Do not let emotion cross the point you are making. Damn it. Those military mental-training tips Matt gave me over the years are finally being put to use.

“I understand,” Garron manages after a beat. “Then we could set up an operation with you as the primary point of contact. You’d be the one drawing him into position.”

“What would you need?”

“We would need consent for law enforcement presence on the property,” she elaborates. “Complete floor plans, vendor lists, staff credentials, camera-feed access, service entrances, parking assignments, guest movement schedules, and direct coordination with your head of private security. We would embed plainclothes detectives inside, such as stage uniformed officers outside the property line.” She pauses, and I already hate whatever is coming next. “I’ll add this only because it is operationally relevant. If Ms. Brooks is present at the event, Cole Vodianov may believe he still has psychological leverage. That could lower his guard and allow us to move him into a controlled area away from guests.”

“I’ll think about it,” I lie, because that is not happening. I am not letting that man near my girl anytime soon. “And if he is armed?” I ask.

“Then the response escalates according to threat level. Preservation of life takes priority over a clean arrest.”

“I will not wait for permission if he reaches her.”

“I know,” Garron says, and there is no condescension in it. “That’s precisely why we need you inside the plan rather than improvising against it. Your security team can protect, evacuate, and, in some circumstances, detain, but they are not a substitute for a coordinated arrest operation. If your people engage him without communication, we risk crossfire, panic or even a hostage situation.”

“And if I refuse to let this event become a trap?”

“Then we pursue other leads,” Garron sighs with a hint of disappointment. “But given his pattern, we believe he may come near the event whether we are there or not. The difference is whether we prepare for that possibility or fail to.” Well played. I will grant her that. She must be one hell of a negotiator.

“Why wait two weeks when he could be out there any day for you to arrest him?”

“We are not waiting,” Garron snaps back. “We are actively pursuing current locations now. The ball is a contingency and an opportunity if he has not been arrested by then.” I turn away from the window, looking over my chess game, Ella’s presence still very much etched into every particle of the air around it.

“I will provide the floor plans, camera infrastructure, vendor lists, and my security chief’s contact within the hour,” I declare.

“We will coordinate with your team,” Garron says. “And we’ll schedule a property walk-through with your security staff as soon as possible.” I can’t believe I’m doing this, bringing Cole into my territory, willingly. “One more thing, Mr. Ashford,” she adds. “Do not contact Vodianov, respond to threats or attempt to draw him out privately. If he reaches out, preserve the original message and notify Detective Brenton. I understand your position, but any off-book action could compromise us.” We exchange a few formalities before ending the call, and for several seconds, I stand still, watching rain comb itself down the glass. My fist curls so tightly my knuckles turn white, and I have to look at my screen just so the sight of Ella can drag my blood pressure ten levels down. I’m trying to do the right thing, but what if seeking justice for her puts her in harm’s way again?

Chapter Eleven

Ella

There’s movement next to me. My eyes flash open, and I clutch the sheet. Weapon. I need a weapon. Trying not to make a sound, I blindly search the nightstand without moving the rest of my body, managing to snag the automatic curtains’ remote. Despite my current lack of strength, there’s something ancient in me, urging me to fight. A part of me, so angry that if I had a real voice, I would scream at the top of my lungs and attack. Like an animal backed into a corner, but with no intention of letting the predator win. Not over and over. Not anymore. This Ella is not fully here yet, but sometimes at night, I hear her heart beating as if it was mine.

The sound comes again, along with something metallic. I count. One. Two. Three. Deep breath. I’m alone, with the moon for sole company, spying on my attempt to strike an uninvited guest. I lunge with all the strength I have, aiming blindly where the sound seems to be coming from.

“Aww! Ella, what are you…”

Tristan’s voice. Shock paints the walls, and I back away on the bed. What have I done? The bedside lamp turns on, revealing Tristan lying on the floor with a makeshift blanket, a pillow, and a thin mattress. His palm runs circles over his temple, which I guess is where I struck him.

Blinking, he croaks out, “It’s me. I was just having a hard time sleeping, sweetheart. Who–who did you think it was?” He winces, eyes shut, and that is when I notice his bare chest. Muscular. Carved from marble by what I imagine are years of discipline and dedication. His gaze finds mine, and a light smile tugs at his lips, like he has won something. I look away, as if I have been caught with my hand in the candy jar.

“I’m sorry,” I sign, still not looking. “I thought you were someone attacking me.” His mischief disappears, replaced by concern.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I never told you that,” he rubs his nape, “that I kind of…sleep here every night.”

“Why not here?”

“You didn’t tell me I could.”

“But it’s…your bed.” I frown.

“I don’t care, it’s not a big deal, as long as I’m with you.” He says it while cracking neck. No. It is not okay. He is going to ruin his back, and I am not sure I would react this badly to sleeping next to him. I mean, from the sight of his body and my reaction, I think I should have a little more faith.