Page 13 of The Final Contract (The Black Ledger Billionaires #5)

“ S era—wait.”

Her name leaves me sharper than I meant it to, but I’d rather snap at her than let her walk in blind. I prefer to sweep the place myself before she sets foot inside. The man at her door tonight is new—trained, experienced, good on paper—but he hasn’t earned my trust the way Finn has.

She ignores me. Heels clicking, moving down the hall.

Then it happens so quickly.

A sliver of light spills out from her bedroom. A sound follows it—raw, breaking. Terror. My heart nearly stops.

The bang that comes next kicks me into motion.

I’m running, gun already drawn, muscles locked on instinct. I clear the doorway fast—and my eyes take in the scene in a second.

She’s on the floor, water slick under her heels where she’s slipped. Tears stream down her face as her eyes stay glued, unblinking, to the bathroom mirror.

“Don’t look, baby.” I holster the weapon and drop to her side, trying to ground her, to drag her focus back to me. She fumbles, slides toward me, reaching. My arms close around her instantly.

My voice is clipped when I press a finger to my earpiece. “Backup. Now. And call Lucian.”

Her body shakes against mine, and I don’t give her a choice—I gather her up and carry her out of the room, away from that goddamn mirror. She shouldn’t have to see it anymore.

Her name.

Seraphina. Sera.

Scrawled across the glass dozens of times in thick strokes of lipstick. Ledger red. The same shade every companion wears.

It’s not neat. It’s not staged. It’s rage, every letter carved in fury. Tubes of lipstick litter the counter and floor like discarded shells after a firefight.

Two of my men rush in, boots heavy, weapons up. Orders snap out of me in a growl before they can even ask.

“Sweep the apartment. And call Jaxon Kane—have him dig into the system and trace where this bastard came from.”

My jaw clenches hard enough to ache. The only explanation is maintenance—he used the appointment as his cover. That means he was in her home. In her sanctuary.

And I’ll find him for it.

Then I’ll break every bone he has for what he’s doing to her.

Lucian shows up in thirty minutes, and it takes almost that long to get her to stop crying. Even now, she’s still hiccuping, her eyes distant, glassy, like she’s somewhere far away from this room.

I haven’t left her side once. I sat her in the cushioned chair in the corner of her bedroom, pulled a blanket around her shoulders. It swallows her whole, but she looks small anyway. Fragile in a way she’d hate me to admit out loud.

Finn appears at my side with a mug of tea, steam curling up from the surface. “Here, lass.”

She takes it, fingers trembling around the porcelain. Offers him the faintest, saddest smile—the kind that guts me, because I know it cost her everything just to lift her lips that much. The warmth seems to help. A little.

“Sera,” I murmur, low and careful, like I’m trying not to spook a cornered animal. Which is exactly what she is right now.

I already told Lucian what to expect before he got here. She’s not going to like this. Doesn’t matter. She needs it.

He crouches down beside me, his suit sharp, his presence heavier than anyone else’s in the room. Together we draw her out of the fog, dragging her gaze back to us.

“We need to get you somewhere safe tonight,” Lucian says, voice even, implacable.

Her eyes flick between us, slow, unfocused. That’s when I realize I’ve been rubbing the side of her thigh, thumb stroking all the way up to the bend of her hip. Christ. I force myself to stop, but I don’t move my hand. I can’t.

“Sera,” I try again.

This time she blinks, focus sharpening. “No.” Her voice is raw, thin but stubborn. “I’m not running away.”

“It’s not running away,” I counter immediately. “It’s being smart.”

She shakes her head, blanket slipping off one shoulder. “I won’t.”

I stand when she does, and Lucian joins me, the two of us towering over her. She doesn’t back down. She never does. Fire licks through her tears, that iron in her spine making itself known.

“It’s being smart,” I repeat, firmer this time.

“It’s giving in.” Her chin lifts, defiant.

Lucian’s jaw tightens, patience thinning. “If you can’t follow basic safety, Seraphina, then I’ll pull the plug on this entire suitor arrangement myself.” His tone is absolute, final. “House arrest, if that’s what it takes.”

The fire in her eyes blazes hotter, sparks flying.

“I won’t compromise your safety or the team’s because you want to make some sort of noble stand.” He holds out a black leather weekend bag he brought with him.

For a second, I think she’s going to fight us both right here. But after a long moment, her jaw clenches, lips pressed so tight they turn white.

“Fine,” she grits out, each letter bitten through her teeth.

She whirls away from us, storming into her closet, bag clutched in her fists. I hear the metallic scrape of a zipper, the rustle of fabric as she drags items into Lucian’s bag.

Reluctant. Furious. But agreeing all the same.

Lucian leans in close, his voice low enough only I can hear. “Don’t tell her, or anyone, where you’re taking her. Not until we get better tech in here to sweep for mics or trackers.”

I nod once. Doesn’t matter. I already know where I’ll take her.

She stuffs clothes into the weekend bag, zips it with sharp, jerky movements, then grabs a smaller one from her shelf and heads toward the bathroom.

She hesitates at the doorway, shoulders tight, before steeling herself and stepping inside.

It’s spotless now, every trace scrubbed away.

But I know what she sees isn’t clean porcelain or glass—it’s the memory of red scrawled across her mirror.

By the time she comes back out, the kitchen’s crowded. More Ledger men. Lucian’s reinforcements. He doesn’t play games when it comes to companion safety—and Seraphina’s already been taken from us once. Not again. Not ever again.

Lucian and I split the orders between us, sharp and clipped. “Sweep the building.” “Trace maintenance logs.” “Pull footage.” Finn will stay onsite, overseeing everything. He doesn’t need the reminder, but I give it anyway. “Don’t let anyone through that door unless it’s one of ours.”

When she reappears, she’s changed—sweatpants and a soft top, white sneakers, her hair pulled into a ponytail. Makeup gone.

And Christ, I love her like this. Bare. Unvarnished. Real.

But it pisses me off too—that this room full of men gets to see her like this, when I want it for myself.

Her eyes flick to Finn. “I thought this was your night off.”

He shakes his head, steady. “Wouldn’t sleep a wink until I knew your place was secure.”

A flicker of light returns to her eyes. Small. Fragile. But enough.

The mood crashes again the moment we exit the elevator and walk into the lobby. Bags in one hand, my other resting at the small of her back, guiding her out. My gaze sweeps every corner as the doors open, scanning the lobby, the valet line, the shadows outside.

Three Ledger men are already stationed, covering angles.

I get her into the passenger seat myself, ignoring the valet’s offer to take her bags. I don’t let go until everything’s inside and the door shuts.

Her sigh fills the cabin when I climb in beside her, the sound deep, weary. Her head falls back against the headrest like she’s finally exhaled the weight of the night.

She feels safe with me. Safe enough to let go a little. I keep noticing it. And I like it. Fucking love it. Too much.

Which is exactly the problem.

Because every second I sit here, I’m split in two. Half of me wants to wrap her in armor, lock her away somewhere no one can ever touch her again. The other half wants to tear that soft cotton off her body and bury myself inside her until she forgets anyone else exists.

Both urges are violent in their own way. And I can’t give in to either.

The duality drives me insane—because I can’t protect her cleanly, and I sure as hell can’t fuck her cleanly. And the longer this goes on, the more I’m losing my grip on which one will win.