Page 9 of Hunted Hearts (Black Heart Security #6)

Theo lingered at the edge of the room, watching every door, every server, every twitch of the crowd. Denver stood like a shadow along the opposite wall. They spoke in clipped murmurs through their earpieces every few minutes, but nothing felt off—yet.

Juliette ate little, sipping champagne and letting a hovering server take her plate once she pushed it away. Theo watched her more closely than he’d ever watched a woman in his life.

She looked up again, head turning gracefully as if she was seeking out someone.

Then her stare landed on him.

He felt it strike. Hard.

In his ear came Denver’s laugh.

“The paint’s peeling again.”

“Don’t make me rethink joining Blackout,” he muttered to his brother, which only brought on another chuckle.

He had to stay focused. Not on the artful wave of hair over Juliette’s shoulder. On her safety.

She’d be performing soon, and then giving a speech, which made her the brightest target in the room.

Exactly twenty minutes before her performance, he stepped up behind her seat. Without a word, she rose, her gown whispering against the floor as he guided her toward the hushed back hallway where she planned to warm up and tune her violin.

As they walked, the memory of her last performance edged into his mind—the way she’d swayed with the music, her movements fluid and precise, like her body was a conduit for every note she drew from the strings.

Watching her then had been…unsettling. Not just because of the power in her playing, but because of the way it hit him—unexpected, crawling under his skin like the music itself was testing his control.

She walked in measured steps, her pace unhurried. The air practically flickered with an invisible electrical charge.

Tonight, with the faint click of her heels and the pressure building between them, he felt the same pull starting again, whether he wanted it or not.

At the practice room door, she stopped, craning her neck to look up at him. A moment passed where he was far too aware of how plush her lips looked and the light throb of her pulse in the elegant sweep of her throat.

He already guessed she wanted to warm up alone. With a nod, he stepped back to allow her inside.

Then posted himself just outside the door, one shoulder to the wall, listening as she opened her case.

The faint rasp of the latches snapping free carried into the hall, followed by the whisper as she drew the instrument out.

Even before the first note, the air shifted—like the violin brought its own gravity with it.

Then she began.

The first sounds were low and deliberate, a soft hum of strings as she checked the tuning.

A moment later, she slid into a run of scales—light, quick bursts that bounced like fragments of glass catching light.

The notes shifted higher, sharper, a sweep of sound that tightened something deep in his chest.

He’d heard plenty of music before. Background noise in restaurants, the occasional live band on leave, the kind of soundtrack that never stuck because it was just…sound.

This wasn’t like that.

The violin cut through him, clean and pure, every note layered with precision and something he couldn’t name. It wasn’t just music—it was her. The control in her fingers, the way each rise and fall felt alive, like she was pulling the air itself into her rhythm.

Theo shifted his weight, jaw tightening. The black suit he wore felt too damn tight.

He wasn’t supposed to notice things like this. Not the way her music crawled under his skin, not the way it made him imagine her onstage again, swaying slightly as if the music lived in her bones. His job was to keep her safe, not to get caught up in whatever spell her bow and strings cast.

But even out here, just a shadow in the hallway, he couldn’t stop listening. Couldn’t stop feeling every note sink into him, note by note, like she was tuning more than just her instrument.

The last notes faded, soft and haunting, lingering in the air. Before Theo could shake it off, footsteps brought him back to earth. He swung to watch Henri making his way down the corridor.

The tour manager’s lined face softened as his stare landed on Theo.

“She has that effect on people.” He pitched his voice low. “The music. It gets into you, whether you want it to or not. That’s why she’s so special. It’s why they’ll pay five thousand dollars a plate just to hear her play.”

Theo didn’t reply, but the way Henri’s gaze lingered on him made his shoulders stiffen. He wasn’t sure what the older man saw—just a bodyguard? Or something more like Denver did?

He hung back to allow Henri to pass. After a light rap on the door, the older gentleman pushed it open and walked in. Juliette’s music swelled louder, and she finished her run before lowering her instrument.

Through the open door her gaze met Theo’s. Henri gently clapped his hands for her performance. But it was the stunning, soft smile that made Theo freeze.

Without a word, Juliette set her violin aside and clasped Henri’s hands. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she drew in a long, deliberate breath. Henri murmured a quiet mantra, something Theo witnessed before the previous night’s performance.

He didn’t know if he should be intruding on the moment, but he found himself caught up in the words Henri spoke, a grounding ritual of gratitude and focus. Juliette bowed her head and whispered a soft prayer, centering herself like the seasoned performer she was.

When they finished, Juliette released her manager’s hands and leaned toward him, powdered cheek offered for his kiss.

Henri kissed her with the warmth of someone who cared about her very much. Then he offered his arm. “There’s a special person attending tonight who would like to meet you before you take the stage.”

Theo’s body moved before he even registered the full statement. He blocked the doorway. “This wasn’t cleared with me.”

Juliette’s eyes glittered, and a new energy seemed to fill her body. She bounced on her toes. “Is it Matthew?” Her smile was filled with a joy that resonated through Theo like the notes of her violin. It hit him too damn hard in all the wrong ways.

Henri grinned. “It is.”

Theo didn’t budge from his spot in the doorway. “I don’t give a damn who this Matthew is. I should have cleared this meeting first.”

“Matthew is a young prodigy I sponsor. He was an orphan. I hoped he might make it tonight!”

Theo’s stomach rolled with something too close to relief to be comfortable, and he did not want to analyze that.

“A child?”

She nodded like a small, enthusiastic bird.

When he stepped aside, Henri led the way with Juliette on his arm, her gown sweeping the floor in a soft whisper. Theo fell into step behind them and touched a finger to the comms in his ear.

“Small change of plan,” he told Denver. “Juliette is meeting a kid from the audience before she takes the stage.”

“Copy.”

As soon as they entered a small VIP lounge, a young kid—seven or eight years old, if Theo had to guess—rushed straight into Juliette’s open arms.

She gathered him close, heedless of how a boy could wrinkle her gown or mess up her makeup. She gave him a hearty and genuine squeeze before beaming at him.

“You’ve grown a foot since I last saw you!”

He laughed, cheeks growing pink. At that moment, Theo realized that Juliette had this effect on everyone. Henri was right—it wasn’t just her music that was special. That was the woman behind the artistry.

With the clock ticking down until she took the stage, the meeting was brief but filled with warmth and more hugs and promises to meet after the concert.

They stepped into the corridor, Theo keeping close as they moved toward the wings. The sound of applause from the string quartet filtered through the walls, swelling as someone announced Juliette.

Just as they reached the corridor leading to the practice room where she’d left her violin, the piercing wail of an alarm sliced through the building. Red lights flashed, washing the hall in pulses of color, and the crowd’s murmurs swelled into panicked confusion.

Theo was already wrapping his fingers around Juliette’s elbow. “We move. Now.”