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“Go,” he said, voice ragged, not trusting himself to say more.

She turned—too slow, hips swaying like she knew exactly what kind of test she was putting him through—and disappeared into the hall.

The second she was out of sight, he grabbed his phone. “Donal,” he barked when the line picked up.

“Aye.”

“She just got a call. Riordan. Full voice transmission. It means he knows where she is.”

Donal swore. “Do we need to sweep again?”

“Yes. I want a firewall double-checked, signal triangulation cross-referenced, and every shadow doubled. No one breathes near this brownstone without my clearance.”

“And if Riordan makes a move?”

Finn’s voice dropped into the dangerous calm that always came before blood. “Then we cut him down.”

“Aye.”

Finn ended the call and stared out the window.

Morning light spilled through the tall windows, casting long shadows across the hardwood floors of the brownstone. Outside, the neighborhood moved with quiet, oblivious normalcy—dog walkers, coffee seekers, the steady rhythm of commuter foot traffic—all unaware of the predator drawing his net tighter. But Finn felt it. The air was heavy, charged, stretched to a breaking point. This wasn’t just instinct—it was prophecy, humming beneath his skin like static before a lightning strike. Riordandidn’t issue warnings. He hunted. He toyed. And that call? It meant the game was already underway.

Finn clenched his fists. His beast stirred beneath the surface, restless.

Keira wasn’t just some ex or former lover. She was his. Always had been—even if she’d run, even if she denied it now. And the threat against her wasn’t just business. It was a blade pointed at something vital inside him, something feral and sacred he wasn’t ready to name. Every instinct screamed to lock her down, keep her close, and hunt whatever dared to breathe in her direction.

He wouldn’t lose her again—not to fear—not to a bastard like Riordan. Losing her once had gutted him, ripped out something vital and left it bleeding for years. He'd buried it under work, violence, control. But now that she was back, breathing the same air, looking at him like he might still matter? No. He wasn’t going through that again. Definitely not to her own damn stubbornness.

She returned a moment later in jeans and a black tank top, barefoot, hair pulled up into a loose knot. “You done barking orders?” she asked, arms folded.

“Not even close.”

“Great. Can’t wait for my all-access babysitter pass and bulletproof corset.”

Finn’s lips twitched, but the smile didn’t quite land. “You in black leather and attitude? Might actually make this tolerable.”

She rolled her eyes, but he caught the flicker of amusement she tried to hide. It twisted something in his chest—something old and reckless and aching. For a second, just one, she looked like the Keira who used to make him laugh right in the middle of chaos. And damn if that didn’t make it harder to remember why keeping his distance was supposed to be smart—especially when one look from her could crack through years of practiced control.It twisted something in his chest—something old and reckless and aching.

“You’ll get a panic button and a new phone.”

She paused. “Actually, the panic button sounds kind of cool.”

He cracked a real smile this time. “Knew I’d win you over.”

“You haven’t yet.”

Finn stepped toward her again. He didn’t touch her—barely even moved close enough to breathe her in—but the shift in the air between them was instant. Charged.

“You’re still here,” he said softly.

Keira swallowed. “For now.”

“That’s enough for now.”

Her gaze flicked to his mouth and back. “Cocky much?”

“Always.”