Page 23 of The Alpha's Crimson Vow (Eternal Oath Saga #2)

Katherine

It’s been a day since Alex left. And honestly? I don’t know how I feel about it. Part of me feels relieved that I didn’t say it. That I didn’t blurt it out as he stood here in my office.

But I wanted to tell him.

The words sat right there on the tip of my tongue. I’m pregnant. You’re going to be a father. Maybe if I had said it, he would’ve changed his mind. Maybe it would’ve made him see things differently, made him want this—want a child—without hesitation.

But I didn’t. And I’m glad I didn’t. Because it’s clear how he feels about having children. And the last thing I would ever do is put my child through the agony of being unwanted, of having a father who only sees them as an obligation. No child of mine will ever feel like that.

I exhale, pressing my fingers against my temples before turning my attention back to the computer screen in front of me. My inbox is flooded, but one email in particular sits open, staring back at me like a ticking time bomb. James’ latest update on the investigation.

I told him to change his focus, to concentrate on my parents’ murder now that I know the attack on me was orchestrated by Alex’s uncle. Valerian. A man I’ve never even met, yet somehow, would like to see me dead.

But things are finally moving. Pieces of the puzzle are falling into place.

James’ email lays it all out in cold, hard facts. Two members of the board—confirmed. We have them. Solid evidence against them. But he’s certain there are more, and now it’s just a matter of proving it.

One name, though, makes my stomach turn. Frank.

James isn’t convinced just yet—the evidence isn’t strong enough. But he knows. He’s sure Frank is involved. And if James is sure, I have every reason to believe he’s right.

I sit back, tapping my fingers against the desk, trying to process it all when a knock echoes through my office.

I glance at the clock. 1 PM. Right on time.

“Come in,” I call out, already knowing who it is.

The door swings open, and Alice strides in. She moves with that effortless kind of confidence—shoulders squared, chin high, steps purposeful. A queen in every sense of the word. She heads straight for the chair across from me but stops just before sitting. Her sharp, assessing gaze sweeps over me, her expression softening into something I can only describe as maternal.

Then, her eyes flicker down—to my stomach.

I fold my arms across my chest. “How’re you feeling?” she asks, her voice warm but scrutinizing, like she’s expecting me to crumble at any second.

I arch a brow. “I’m fine, Alice. I’m pregnant, not dying.”

She finally sinks into the chair, but she doesn’t look convinced. If anything, she looks more concerned, her eyes still locked onto me like I’m some fragile piece of glass about to shatter.

I sigh. “Alice? Stop looking at me like that. I promise you, I’m fine.”

She inhales deeply, like she’s trying to decide whether or not she believes me, then finally nods. “I’ll be heading back to my city today.”

I blink. “Leaving so soon?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Duty calls.” She gives me a small, almost apologetic smile. “I could only spare a couple of days for your birthday.”

I nod slowly. I get it. She’s a queen, and with that comes a million responsibilities, all demanding her attention. The fact that she even made time to be here at all means everything to me.

“What time’s your flight?” I ask.

“Not till later tonight.” She glances around the office briefly before turning back to me. “I wanted to drop by and say goodbye before I get ready to leave.”

I nod again, pushing back my chair as I rise to my feet. She does the same, smoothing out the front of her dress.

I take a step toward her. “Thank you for coming, Alice. I know you’re always busy, and it means the world to me that you were here.”

She smiles, a real one this time, warm and sincere. “Always, Katherine. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

She pulls me into a hug, and I let myself lean into it, soaking in the comfort of her presence. For a moment, we just stand there, holding onto each other, no words needed.

Then, slowly, I pull away. And just like before, her eyes immediately drop to my stomach.

I let out a groan, shaking my head. “Jesus, Alice. You’re acting like you’ve never seen a pregnant woman before.”

She just gives me that same unreadable, maternal stare. “If anything comes up, don’t hesitate to call. Okay?”

“Of course,” I say, walking with her toward the door. She opens it, pausing to glance back at me, giving me one last lingering look before offering a small smile. Then she’s gone.

I shut the door behind me, and the absence of Alice already feels heavier than it should. There’s just something about her presence—steady, and reassuring in a way that doesn’t need words. She doesn’t hover, doesn’t coddle, but somehow, just knowing she’s around makes everything feel a little less overwhelming. And now that she’s gone? I feel the emptiness creeping in.

Or maybe I’m just being dramatic. Maybe my hormones are making me soft.

With a slow breath, I turn away from the door and walk over to the massive glass window that spans nearly the entire length of my office. My eyes lower to the parking lot below, scanning the rows of expensive cars and busy people coming and going.

A few minutes pass before I spot her. Alice, walking toward the sleek black car waiting for her. Her guards move in sync, opening the door with that quiet, professional efficiency that says they’ve done this a million times before. She slips inside, and just like that, the car pulls out, disappearing into the city traffic.

A small smile tugs at my lips. If anything comes up, don’t hesitate to call . That’s Alice—always calm, always looking out for me.

I take a slow step back, ready to return to my desk, when something catches my eye.

A black SUV, parked just beyond the office lot.

My breath stills for a moment, a strange sense of familiarity prickling at me as my eyes home in on the two men standing beside it. They’re dressed in black suits, sunglasses perched on their faces despite the overcast sky. A slow, unsettling realization creeps up my spine.

I know them.

It takes me a few seconds, but then it clicks.

I’ve seen them before—standing on either side of Alex during board meetings, their silent, looming presence impossible to miss. They were there when he came to my office once, positioned just outside the door like sentinels.

My stomach twists.

Alex left for Europe yesterday. But his guards are still here. Which can only mean one thing.

He left them to watch me.

A sharp, hot anger ignites inside me, spreading so fast it nearly makes me dizzy.

Are you kidding me?

What the hell does he think he’s doing? Watching me like I’m some helpless damsel who needs to be protected? Like I’m his property? He’s terrified of having kids, but apparently, he has zero hesitation about posting his men outside my office like I’m some kind of fragile possession that needs guarding?

I don’t even realize I’m moving until I’m storming out of my office, my heels clicking hard and fast against the marble floors. The anger in my chest is so thick it drowns out everything else—every thought, every second guessing impulse.

I don’t wait for the elevator. I can’t wait. I take the stairs, descending so quickly my breath comes in sharp bursts, my pulse hammering. The moment I hit the ground floor, I push through the glass doors of the lobby and step outside.

The heat of the midday sun slams into me, thick and humid, but I barely register it. My focus is locked, sharp and deadly, on the black SUV and the two men standing beside it.

They see me coming but they don’t even get a chance to react before I’m right in front of them, arms folded, my irritation rolling off me in waves.

“What are you two doing here?” I demand, my voice sharp and clipped. I’m in no mood for games.

The guards glance at each other, and for a split second, I catch something in their expressions—something like disappointment. Like they were really tying to prevent me from noticing them. Well, they failed.

Their hands remain clasped in front of them, shoulders squared, back straight—the perfect, disciplined little statues they’re trained to be. But they don’t answer. And that just pisses me off even more.

I narrow my eyes. “Where is your boss?”

Another silent exchange between them. Then, finally, one of them steps forward.

“His Majesty, the King, has returned to the kingdom for urgent matters.” His voice is even, clipped, completely devoid of emotion. Robotic. “His Majesty, the King.” Like I give a damn about his official title.

“So what the hell are you two still doing here?” I snap, my patience wearing thinner by the second.

Another glance between them. The hesitation is infuriating. Then, the other one finally speaks.

“His Majesty has instructed us to protect you while giving you no bother, madam. We are to watch after you, but will not be a disturbance.”

I let out a short exasperated sigh. “Oh? Well, congratulations, because your very presence is a disturbance to me.”

The guard doesn’t so much as flinch. “Madam, if I may,” he says, voice still perfectly polite like I haven’t just basically called him a pest. “Our instructions are to watch over you without being any trouble to you. We assure you, we will remain out of sight. But please, let us perform our duty to the King.”

I arch a brow. “Huh. I wonder how your King will feel when I tell him that you two have been pestering me, following me everywhere, and getting in my way at work.” I tilt my head, letting the threat settle. “Because that’s exactly what I’m going to tell him if you don’t leave. Right now.”

For the first time, I see a hint of something beneath their stone-cold professionalism. Uncertainty. They don’t want to go. But they really don’t want to risk pissing off their boss, either. Tough choice.

I watch as they exchange yet another glance, and despite the sunglasses masking their eyes, I can feel the discomfort rolling off them. They’re just following orders, doing their jobs. But I don’t care.

Finally, they turn to me, backs stiff as ever. “As you wish, madam.”

Without another word, they step into the SUV, the engine purring to life. A second later, the tires roll against the pavement, and I watch, unmoving, as they disappear down the street, their sleek black vehicle melting into the traffic.

Only when they’re completely gone do I exhale, the tension in my shoulders loosening just the tiniest bit.

Good. That’s handled.

With a final glance at the now empty curb, I turn on my heel and head back inside. I have actual work to do.

The hours slip by in a blur, my fingers flying across the keyboard as I bury myself in work. There’s too much to do, too many loose ends to tie up, especially with how things are with Alex now. A small part of me considered postponing my plans to get all our assets back from his properties in Europe, but now I’m moving ahead with those plans with renewed urgency.

Just as I’m about to pull up another document, my gaze lands on something small and familiar sitting on the chair across from me. A purse.

Alice’s purse.

I exhale through my nose, shaking my head with a small smirk. She forgot it. She might be a literal queen, but sometimes she’s just as forgetful as anyone else.

I grab my phone and dial her. She picks up on the second ring.

“Hey,” I say, leaning back in my chair. “Looks like you left your purse here.”

“I was wondering where that was,” she sighs, followed by the faintest sound of her smacking her lips. “I’ll come over for it.”

I glance at my watch. 7 PM. “What time’s your flight again?”

“10 PM. I’ll stop by your office before heading to the airport,” she says.

“Plenty of time,” I murmur, nodding even though she can’t see me. “Alright, I’ll be here. I’m working late anyway.”

“As usual,” she teases. I hang up, setting the phone down beside me.

It’s only now, in the momentary pause, that I realize how late it’s gotten. The office is quieter than before, the usual hum of voices and footsteps reduced to nothing but the occasional distant sound of the cleaning staff. Outside my window, the city lights flicker against the darkening sky, cars weaving through the streets like moving stars.

Still, I have no plans to leave anytime soon. There’s too much left to do. I lean forward again, refocusing on my screen, fingers poised over the keyboard. A few minutes trickle by then, there’s a knock at the door.

I glance up, brows pinching together. Strange. Most of the employees would have gone home by now.

Alice? Maybe she wasn’t too far when I called.

I don’t overthink it. “Come in,” I say.

I blink. Once. Twice. And for a second, it feels like the entire room freezes. The air thickens, the faint hum of the city outside dulls, and all I can hear is the steady, rhythmic pounding of my own heart.

Standing in the doorway, like a shadow that shouldn’t be here, is Frank.

“Good evening, cousin,” he says, his voice smooth, practiced. The door clicks shut behind him, the soft sound sending an uneasy ripple down my spine.

His name leaves my lips before I can stop it. “Frank?”

It comes out almost breathless, laced with a surprise I wish wasn’t so obvious. My brain immediately races back to James’ email—his warning. I’m sure Frank was involved in your parents’ deaths, but there’s no proof yet.

I move in my seat, forcing my expression into something more neutral, more unreadable. My heart is still hammering, but I refuse to let it show.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you,” I say, my voice even.

Frank steps forward, his movements slow and deliberate, like he’s savoring every second of this moment. He helps himself to the chair across from me, his posture relaxed, his lips curved into an easy smile. But there’s something underneath it—something cold and sharp.

“That’s not a nice way to greet a cousin you haven’t seen in a while, Katherine.” His tone is light, almost playful, but there’s a weight behind it, something that makes my pulse quicken.

I inhale deeply, my fingers pressing against the edge of my desk. “How did you get past security?” My tone is curt, clipped.

He shrugs, completely unbothered. “Come on, Katherine. I’m a Lockhart, just like you. Plus, I’ve worked here long enough to call in a few favors.”

I don’t respond. Silence stretches between us.

Frank tilts his head slightly, studying me with those sharp green eyes. He’s smiling, his expression deceptively warm, but my instincts are screaming at me. You’re in danger.

“What do you want, Frank?” I ask, pointed, unwilling to entertain whatever game he’s trying to play.

He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, his gaze drifts around my office, as if he’s just here for a casual visit, as if he has all the time in the world. Then—

“Wasn’t it your birthday a day or so ago?” he asks.

I don’t flinch, but my jaw tightens. “I doubt you came here to talk about my birthday.”

He holds my gaze for a long moment before letting out a soft chuckle. “You never really liked your birthdays growing up.” His voice is thoughtful, like he’s reminiscing, like we’re just two old friends catching up. “It was one of those things about you I always found strange. Everyone else got so excited, counting down the days, throwing parties. And then there was you. Always serious. Always distant. I remember you saying—what was it?—‘Birthdays are silly.’” He leans forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees. “Even as a kid, you thought you were better than everyone else.”

I raise a brow, staring at him, but before I can respond, he keeps going.

“You know what else I remember?” His tone changes, a quiet edge slipping into it. “I remember how smart everyone said you were. It was all anyone ever talked about. Every Thanksgiving dinner, every Christmas visit—it was always Katherine this, Katherine that. The perfect, brilliant Lockhart heir.”

He exhales a small laugh, but there’s nothing funny about it. “I think that’s when I started to hate you.”

His voice drops lower, tighter, and there’s an unmistakable venom in it now, like something that’s been festering for years, waiting for the right moment to strike. My heart starts to pound.

“Frank,” I say carefully, keeping my voice steady. “Why are you here?”

His green eyes burn as he stares at me, the last remnants of his smile fading.

“I came here today to make a confession.” He rises from his seat. “A confession about your parents.”

A chill runs through me, but I don’t have time to react—because the moment I start to stand, his hand moves. And suddenly, there’s a gun. A small, black pistol, pulled from the back of his waistband, aimed directly at me.

My stomach drops.

“Not a fucking step,” he murmurs, voice low, dangerous. “Unless you want to go say hi to your old folks tonight.”

My breath catches, my eyes flickering between him and the weapon. There’s a heavy weight pressing against my chest—fear, anger, disbelief, all tangled together in a suffocating knot.

“You…” My voice is barely above a whisper. “You killed them.”

Frank tilts his head, watching me like a cat watches a mouse. “I did what I had to do to get what I deserved,” he says, matter of fact. “And still, you took it from me. But not anymore.”

He starts rounding the desk, slow and steady, like he knows I have nowhere to run. His free hand dips into his pocket, pulling out a small folded cloth.

Realization slams into me like a freight train. My pulse skyrockets.

Chloroform.

My chair scrapes against the floor as I jerk back, but it’s too late. He lunges, faster than I expect, shoving the cloth against my nose and mouth.

I thrash, nails clawing at his wrist, but the chemical scent is overwhelming. My head spins. My limbs weaken.

I try to fight. Try to scream. But my body isn’t listening. The world around me blurs, darkens, starts to slip away.

And just before everything goes black, I see the door open. Three men step inside. Clad in black. Faces covered.

“Take her,” Frank’s voice orders through the haze.

And then—darkness takes over me.