Page 15

T he Sentinel's security systems hummed beneath my fingertips, a digital heartbeat that should have been reassuring. Instead, it felt like a taunt. Eight layers of encryption. Advanced biometric protocols. Military-grade firewalls. All useless against an enemy who'd already proven they could slip through the most sophisticated defenses like smoke.

I toggled between camera feeds, watching my family adjust to our gilded cage. In the east wing, Shepherd and Eli were methodically checking every inch of their suite, mapping surveillance points with the care of people who understood what it meant to be watched. Three floors down, River was sorting through his salvaged belongings, arranging his collection of dried mushrooms with the same cold precision he used for corpses. War and Pax had claimed the suite closest to the security control room, a strategic choice that told me War trusted Algerone's fortress about as much as I did.

Misha had been the biggest surprise, stepping into the chaos with unexpected confidence. He'd claimed one of the smaller workrooms on the ground floor and was now helping Leo set up a cosplay workshop, their heads bent together over sketches and material samples. Misha's slender fingers traced patterns on the fabric while Leo gestured animatedly, describing some technical aspect of construction that lit his entire face with passion.

It was the first time I'd seen Leo truly energized since the fires. The sight made something tight in my chest loosen fractionally, like a fist unclenching. Though I'd only recently admitted my feelings for him, the depth of what I felt sometimes caught me off guard. The past week had changed everything between us.

"He seems happy."

I didn't turn at the sound of my mother's voice. She moved like I did, silent and deadly, heels or no heels. Her reflection appeared on the security monitor beside mine.

"He's resilient," I replied, flipping to another camera feed. "Adapts quickly."

Mom's hand settled on my shoulder gently. "You picked well with that one."

I grunted in response.

"Have you heard from your father?"

"Which one?" I asked, my voice deliberately light. "The one who raised me or the one whose DNA I'm unfortunately carrying?"

Her eyes narrowed. “Yuri.”

I shook my head. “No, not yet.”

"Keep trying him," Mom said, her voice betraying more concern than she probably intended. "I don't like that he's not answering."

I rose from my chair, the need to move suddenly overwhelming. "I'm going to check on Leo."

Mom nodded, understanding without explanation. In times of threat, we all had our anchors, the people who kept us grounded when the world tilted sideways. Hers was Dad. Mine was Leo.

I found him exactly where the surveillance feeds had shown him, bent over a workbench in the makeshift studio, trimming what appeared to be a piece of foam armor. Misha sat cross-legged on the floor nearby, sorting through bins of fabric scraps.

"Hey," I said from the doorway.

Leo's hands froze momentarily at the sound of my voice. His body recognized me before his conscious mind did, relaxing even as he turned in surprise.

"Hey," he said, a smile breaking across his face. The simple joy in that expression hit me with physical force, something twisting painfully in my chest at the thought of anything dimming that light. "Misha's been helping me figure out the best way to structure the pauldrons. Apparently the secret is a quilted backing."

"Learned it from a cosplayer in Paris," Misha chimed in, not looking up from his color sorting. "Distributes the weight better, especially for pieces that extend past the shoulder."

I moved into the room. The need to verify his safety, to see him whole and unharmed, overrode all other priorities. I settled a hand at the nape of his neck, fingers threading through his hair in a gesture that was both possessive and reassuring.

"Everything okay?" he asked, eyes searching mine. He read me too well now, catching subtleties in my expression that others missed.

"Just restless," I said, not wanting to worry him unnecessarily. "Dad's not answering his phone."

Leo's brow furrowed with concern. "That's not like him."

"No. It's not."

I shook my head. "Maybe I'm being paranoid, but after everything that's happened..."

"Better paranoid than dead," Leo said, setting aside his project. "Do you want me to try calling him?"

I nodded, grateful for his pragmatic approach. No excessive questions, no panic, just ready assistance. I felt that painful twist in my chest again. "Stay close."

Leo nodded, understanding the subtext. My brain worked better when I wasn't dividing resources between problem solving and worrying about his location. In combat situations, this was our standard protocol—he stayed in my sightline, I kept us both alive.

I was reaching for my phone when it buzzed with an incoming text from an unknown number.

A FATHER FOR A FATHER.

"What the fuck?" I muttered, staring at the screen. "Who is this?"

Leo peered at my phone. "Spam maybe?"

Before I could respond, my phone rang. Mom. I answered immediately.

"We need to go. Now." Her voice was controlled, but urgent. "Your father's in the hospital. There was an explosion—his car. They've taken him to Grant Memorial."

Ice spread through my veins as I looked back at the text message. "Was there a note? A message?"

"How did you know? Someone sent Nikita an anonymous text right after it happened. 'A father for a father.'"

My entire world narrowed to that text message and my mother's voice.

"I'll meet you at the car in two minutes," I said, already moving. Leo abandoned his project instantly, following on my heels without question or hesitation.

"What's happening?" Misha asked, rising from his pile of fabric scraps.

"Dad's been hurt. Phoenix went after him." I didn't slow down to see his reaction. "Tell the others. We're leaving."

Mom was already in the foyer when we arrived, her face a familiar mask of controlled rage. War appeared moments later, medical bag in hand.

"How bad?" he asked, all business.

"Critical but stable," Mom replied. "Burns over twenty percent of his body. Possible internal bleeding."

War nodded once and passed the keys to River, who said, "I'll drive."

"I'll call Shepherd," War said, phone already pressed to his ear. "He has hospital privileges at Grant."

The efficiency with which my family mobilized in crisis never failed to impress me. Within minutes, everyone had assembled in the foyer, faces grim but determined. Even Xion had decided to come, which spoke volumes since he and Yuri weren't close.

I checked my own weapon, confirming the magazine was full. If Phoenix had targeted Dad, they could be waiting at the hospital to finish the job.

"Let's move," I said, heading for the door.

"I'm afraid that won't be possible."

Maxime stood in the entrance, his lean frame blocking our path. Where he'd materialized from, I couldn't tell, but his posture communicated everything about his intentions. Four security personnel positioned themselves strategically around the foyer, their dark tactical gear a stark contrast to the luxury surrounding us.

"Step aside, Maxime," Mom's voice carried deadly calm.

"I cannot do that, Mrs. Laskin." His voice remained perfectly modulated, professional to the core. "Mr. Etremont's instructions were explicit. Your safety is to be ensured by any means necessary."

"My husband is in the hospital," Mom replied, taking a step forward. "Possibly dying."

Maxime's expression flickered with what might have been genuine sympathy, but his position remained unchanged. "I am aware of the situation and deeply regret the circumstances. Mr. Etremont has already dispatched his personal medical team to assist Mr. Laskin."

"Not good enough," I growled, moving to flank my mother. "We're leaving. Now."

"That would compromise the security protocols established for your protection." Maxime's gaze shifted to the guards, who subtly adjusted their positions. "I cannot allow it."

Leo's hand settled on my arm. A silent warning.

"You're going to stop us by force?" War asked, disbelief coloring his tone.

Maxime didn't flinch. "If necessary."

"This is why I never trusted Algerone," Xion muttered, his body tensing like a coiled spring.

"Mr. Etremont anticipated your reaction," Maxime continued smoothly. "He has instructed me to inform you that the hospital has been secured, and Mr. Laskin is receiving the best possible care. Live video feed can be arranged if you wish to see him."

"A video feed?" Mom's voice dropped dangerously low. "Someone is trying to murder my husband!"

"The security team at Grant Memorial has been tripled," Maxime replied. "No one will reach Mr. Laskin."

"Like no one reached him in his car?" I challenged.

Xander lunged at Maxime with a primal scream that made even the guards flinch.

"YOU DON'T GET TO DECIDE!" he shrieked, the sudden intensity of his emotion filling the entire room.

Ash moved quickly, wrapping his arms around Xander from behind. This wasn't the first time he'd had to contain one of Xander's episodes.

"He's all I have! He's the only one who never gave up on me!" Xander's voice cracked as he struggled, emotions cycling so rapidly across his face it was impossible to track them all. Rage to desperation to betrayal and back again in seconds. "I trusted you, Maxime! We trusted you!"

The guards' hands moved to their weapons as Xander's emotional volatility escalated the situation from tense to potentially lethal.

"I swear to god, I will fucking kill you where you stand," Xander hissed, his entire body trembling, tears streaming down his face even as he threatened murder. The black-and-white thinking of his condition had fully taken over. Maxime was no longer a person doing his job, but an absolute enemy standing between him and someone he loved.

"Xander, baby, breathe," Ash murmured, pulling Xander's head against his chest. "You can't help your father if you're dead."

We all stood there awkwardly while Xander sobbed into Ash's chest. I glared at Maxime and took a step forward. The armed guards tensed.

"If he dies while we're stuck here," I said, my voice suddenly eerily calm, "there won't be anything in this world that can save you from me. Not Algerone, not that stupid little tablet in your hands, and not your armed guards. Do you understand me?"

Maxime's response was cold. "Mr. Etremont was clear: your safety outweighs your comfort or autonomy in this situation."

"So we are prisoners," I concluded, anger burning cold in my veins.

Maxime's expression remained professionally neutral. "You are assets being protected."

"Assets," Shepherd echoed, a dangerous edge in his voice. "How interesting that Algerone views his family as property to be secured rather than people with agency."

"I am simply following orders, Dr. Laskin."

"Following orders," River repeated, his usually expressionless face showing the first signs of genuine anger. "Classic justification for unethical actions throughout history."

Leo moved closer to me. "There has to be a compromise. Maybe a small team could go with Algerone's security as an escort?"

Maxime shook his head. "I'm afraid that's not possible. The security protocols are absolute until the threat is neutralized."

"And who determines when that happens?" I demanded. "Algerone?"

"Precisely."

I clenched my teeth. "I want Algerone on the phone right fucking now."

Maxime nodded. "I'll relay your request."

"It wasn't a request." Xion cracked his knuckles.

The tension in the room remained palpable, a live wire ready to spark at the slightest provocation. Every instinct screamed at me to fight, to force our way past these obstacles and reach Dad. But the tactical reality was unavoidable: we were outmaneuvered.

"I'll relay your request with urgency," Maxime said. "And I promise you I will make sure he understands the gravity of the situation."

"You had fucking better," I replied. "We'll be in the media room, waiting to take his call."

As we walked away, I caught a glimpse of Maxime speaking quietly into his comm device. I reached for Leo's hand, linking our fingers together. His grip was strong, steady, a silent reminder that whatever came next, I wasn't facing it alone.

The intensity of my need to protect him, to keep him safe, had grown exponentially since I'd admitted what he meant to me. I'd spent years calculating risks, neutralizing threats, and delivering justice through fire. But now the stakes were personal in a way they'd never been before. Phoenix had targeted my home, my family, and worst of all—had tried to kill Leo.

When Algerone finally called, he'd better have something to say worth listening to, or I was going to burn this entire fortress to the ground to get to my father.