Page 11 of The Final Contract (The Black Ledger Billionaires #5)

T he fucker’s getting bolder.

Every move he makes, he edges closer to her, like he’s daring me to snap his neck in front of everyone.

I keep my expression flat, but inside the itch to break him open is alive and well. He thinks he can hover near her, breathe her air, brush her sleeve like it’s nothing. Like she didn’t belong to me the second I was assigned to guard her.

Not happening.

I slip a hand around her arm, steering her toward the elevators. My thumb rests against the inside of her elbow—not tight, not enough to scare her, but firm enough to remind her she isn’t walking alone.

I pull out my phone and Finn answers before the second ring. “We’re coming up. Anything today?”

“We’re all clear. No one’s been by. Mail’s light—gave it a once-over myself, dropped it on her counter. That’s all.”

“Good.” My voice is steel. “We’ll be up in a minute.”

I hang up and thumb out a text to Jaxon:

KILLIAN: Information incoming.

His reply pings back instantly—a salute meme. Typical. Cocky bastard.

The elevator button lights under my knuckle, and only then do I realize I’m still holding onto her. I let go, my hand falling heavy to my side. She rubs the spot like my grip left an ache.

She looks smaller. Not in the way she carries herself—she’s never anything less than commanding—but the way her shoulders tuck in, the way her gaze stays glued to the elevator floor.

I know what’s running through her mind: the what-ifs.

The fact that that asshole had been standing right next to her. Too close. Too much risk.

“Hey.” My voice cuts through the silence.

She hums, distracted, like she didn’t hear me but can’t bring herself to say so.

I reach for her chin, gentler this time, turning her face toward mine. Her skin is soft, cool under my fingers. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

I hold her eyes, steady, unflinching, because she needs to believe me. Needs to know that whatever monsters circle her world, they’ll go through me first.

Her lips part just slightly, and after a beat she nods. She bites her bottom lip, and the motion drags my attention straight to her mouth. Fuck. Dangerous thought. Not mine to have. Not my line to cross.

The elevator dings, doors sliding open, and the moment cracks in half like it never existed.

Down the hall and inside, she stops at the kitchen island and drops her purse with a soft thud. I set the envelope down beside it—the sound sharper, a flat smack against the counter.

“Don’t touch it,” I warn, already moving.

At the end cabinet I’ve got a stash—security-guard essentials just in case. I tear it open, pull out a pair of gloves, and snap them on. The latex clings, sealing me into that headspace I know too well: threat assessment, not emotion.

I ease the flap open with my blade and tilt the envelope. A glimpse is all I need for my jaw to lock tight. Photos. Of her.

My chest burns, but I push it down, scanning for residue. Edges clean. No visible powder. I bring it close and sniff, sharp and cautious. Nothing.

“Get me a bag and a swab,” I tell Finn, voice clipped.

He’s already gloving up, pulling a field-test kit from his pack. Sera—pale but steady—opens a drawer and pulls out a gallon-size Ziploc bag. She holds it up. “This okay?”

“That’s good, babe.”

The word slips out before I can catch it. It scrapes my throat raw, and I nearly choke on it. I act like nothing happened. So does she. But her cheeks flush, betraying her. Finn doesn’t so much as twitch. Professional to the bone.

He rips open a swab. I take it, brush the cotton carefully along the envelope’s seams, corners, between the photos. I watch the strip like it’s gospel. White. Still white. No reaction.

“I still don’t want you to touch them,” I tell Sera. She needs to hear it, understand it. “I’ll take them out, but you keep your hands clear. We’ll still send it off just in case.”

Her voice strains thin, like she’s holding something back. “Do you think he would try to poison me?”

She blinks fast. Not enough to stop the tears.

Fuck. Every instinct in me screams to close the distance, to wrap her up and make her believe nothing can get through me. But I stay rooted, jaw tight, and hand Finn the envelope instead. He slides it into the bag.

I catch the top photo as I pass it. My gut knots. “He gave this to you while you were out. If he hoped you’d open it, it could’ve been laced with something—something to make you groggy, sick. Force you to the bathroom. Separate you from me.”

Her hand trembles against the counter.

“Not knowing who the prick is means we don’t know what he wants,” I press. “So we act like he’s capable of anything.”

Her gaze drifts to the photo in my hand. It’s from her date with Elijah a few nights ago—plates midcourse, salads half-eaten. Taken through a window, which means the bastard was across the street, watching.

“The date was last minute, but he still found you. That’s the message.” I’m talking to Finn, but Sera breathes, almost too soft to hear, “Oh my God.”

“That’s another clue.” I want her to hear the reassurance in my tone. “Somehow he’s got access to you. We’ll figure out how.”

I slip the photos into the bag, peel the gloves off, toss them in the trash. Seal the bag, hand it to Finn. “Get one of the guys to take it in for testing.”

Sera’s pale, her posture unsteady. “You should lie down,” I suggest.

“No. I don’t have time. I need a shower.”

Dammit. I was hoping she’d cancel the date. “You could?—”

“No.” Her chin lifts, stubborn as I’ve ever seen her. “I’m not letting him scare me into the dark. Into hiding. I’m not giving him that.”

I get it. I hate it. But I get it.

She turns toward her bedroom, and I call after her, “Mind if I scan your purse for trackers?”

I already did. First day I found out about the stalker, I swept her entire place—her car, her clothes, her bag too. But I need peace of mind. He could have slipped more than just an envelope in there.

“Have at it,” she says, vanishing into her room.

I glance at Finn. “Get extra guys on tonight’s date. I want them there early. Put them in uniforms for the restaurant—staff coverage.”

He nods. “I’ll call the restaurant. Get on it now.”

Good man.

I watch the closed bedroom door, my jaw aching. I don’t like this. Don’t like the stalker getting this close. And I sure as hell don’t like her going out on another fucking date.