Chapter 8 The Warning

Emery Sinclair’s POV

I had not expected to meet anyone in the hallway, especially not a man, his grip on me was tight, almost making it impossible to breathe 

Was this the end? 

I guess I wouldn't be making it to the end as the winner. Fear crept into me at the thought of my end, it wasn't how I had pictured it to be 

My eyes were slowly losing their light, but still, I had no intention to call out for help. I did scream not even a sound escaped my lips. 

Why was that— I had no idea 

But somewhere deep down within me knew— I knew I wouldn't die. I knew he wouldn't kill me.

Air left others’ lungs, but mine hung 

People's spines got chills, but mine froze

He dragged me to the corridor with dim light, my back hit the wall, and a sharp dagger was pierced in my neck. I felt it sharp tip on me. I didn't let fear consume me, at least it didn't show externally, but within me was a whole different matter— I felt like screaming. I felt like crying.

He was dressed in an expensive rumpled suit, and he reeked of smoke and alcohol. He had sharp features, one that I almost admired, but his cold, flat, calculative eyes and his nose that seemed to have been broken on multiple occasions wouldn't let me.

He was just the right size. He wasn't fat or slim, and it looked like he was in his late forties, which made me wonder what a forty-something-year-old man wanted from me. 

“Tell your fiancée,” his voice came as a whisper, and his breath brushed against my ear, “he just started a war he wouldn't survive." 

I froze, not knowing how to respond to the word—war. My heart beat rabidly like it wanted to burst out of my rib cage.

I would have tried to push and escape, but I knew it was no use. Looking at him, I knew he stood like a rock.

“He doesn't know what kind of men his playing with,” he continued, but this time, it sounded like he was amused, “but he will learn, and we will make sure he does." 

And with that, he was gone; it was like he was never really here, and that creeped me out.

I would have thought I was hallucinating, but if I couldn't feel the effect from him choking me, and the sharp edge of his dagger on me 

My palm has turned sweaty, I breathe in and out, hoping it would calm my pounding heart, but it didn't

Who was that? 

What war? 

I didn't have to think too. It was clear that this message wasn't for me but for Killian, and I planned to cough up answers.

  

My fingers trembled, and my chest rapidly rose and fell.

Whatever business I had with the bathroom was long thrown away into the trash can. I walked back to the private dining room, half running, half jogging, and chills ran down my spine.

I entered the private room, and my eyes locked with Killian's for a brief moment because I moved to sit next to him. I prayed my trembling hands wouldn't sell me out, but he knew. I saw his relaxed jaw tighten and how his eyes got sharper. 

The second I sat down, he leaned in

 “Are you okay?" He asked 

I could say I wasn't, I could tell him everything, but I didn't. I nodded almost too quickly, " I'm good, I just needed some air.” 

He didn't buy it. I saw it in his lingering gaze, like he was searching for a truth that had refused to fall.

“Your pupils are dilated.” 

“I said I'm fine, okay?” I snapped, and I immediately regretted my choice of tone 

Killian gave me the air I needed; he leaned back on his chair and continued with the conversation, but I could tell he was no longer focused. Every once in a while, I would catch his gaze on me 

  

He was watching me carefully, every breath I took in. Every time I stare at the clock. Every time I look to the sky through the windows. Every time I exhaled, I felt his gaze on me; it was piercing.

Whenever I caught him staring, he would shift his attention to his cufflink as if he were trying to put it in place 

I had long abandoned my role as Killian's smiley and beautiful fiancée in his carefully constructed game of chess. I was a piece in this game of his, perhaps the most important, but other matters troubled my heart 

I no longer forced a smile on their conversation that wasn't worth it. His business partner talked in circles— mergers, market expansion, corporate loyalty, but none of this made sense anymore 

I was too deep in my thoughts 

Who were these enemies? 

What did they want? 

Does this involve me? 

What game had I gotten myself into? 

Am I a pawn in his game?

The dinner dragged on was one time I knew but wasn't aware of how long or when it ended, cause I was too deep in my head with a question and no Answer session 

Later that night, we got to Killian's penthouse, and there was a silence of unquestionable question, and it was becoming unbearable.

The sleek black stain number that had showcased my curves and had screamed power was suddenly suffocating. I paced about the room, kicking out my stiletto heel in the process 

But Killian was completely unconcerned about my unsettling behavior. He casually walked to the counter, took out a glass, and poured himself a whiskey 

I was completely dumbfounded by his actions.

I exhaled loudly, but still he continued to play with the glass of whiskey, and I wasn't sure if he had any plans on drinking it 

And I wasn't sure if he would ask, so I burst out, “Aren't you going to ask?" 

There is a long pause 

"I was waiting for you to talk,” he replied, his voice calm. He threw me a glance from behind his shoulder 

“I don't know if I can. I don't what what to say." 

“Why?" He turned to me 

“Because I don't know… I don't know what this is. The fake engagement. The media are constantly on my tail. Your enemies after my life, I'm tired.” I exhaled, my voice almost crying, but I continued to talk, “Do you know… that someone cornered me in the hallway tonight with a dagger pointing to my neck. He threatened you through me.”

I saw his entire body turn still. I saw how the whiskey he had finally decided to drink froze in place, just a few inches away from his mouth.

“What did he say?" His voice was ice cold, controlled but deadly. 

“He said I should tell you that you have started a war that you wouldn't survive." I clenched my jaw as I repeated his words 

Killian cursed under his breath, tossed back the whiskey, and slammed the glass down hard enough that it cracked at the edge.

I flinched. He noticed and he immediately released his grip on the glass. 

“I didn't mean to scare you." his voice softened like he was angry a few minutes ago. “You should have told me when it happened." 

“You think I didn't want to?" My voice broke. “ I'm tired, Killian. I'm tired of always being scared. First Tobias, now this —and now I'm tied to you and your war, I don't even know who the enemy is anymore." 

He ran his hand down his face. “I do." 

“What?" His response caught my attention. 

He looked at me then, his eyes dark and resolute. " I know who sent him.” 

I waited for him to continue, but he didn't. “Who are they?" I asked, but he kept mute. 

“Tell me!" I demanded. “Don't treat me like some fragile doll. If I'm in danger, I deserve to know." 

He nodded like he had decided to tell. “ You are right, I will tell you.”

I got my hopes up and anticipated his response, but his next word crumbled whatever hope I had 

“But not tonight. I need to take care of something first." 

And the way he said it made my skin crawl.

“What are you going to do?" I asked, my face fell from disappointment, and my voice was barely above a whisper.

“Whatever I have to.” He said without a grim smile that suddenly felt annoying to see 

Killian left that night with no explanation. No details. Just a promise— “No one will touch you again" 

His words should have been comforting enough, but instead, it was terrifying. I didn't sleep that night, not really 

And it dawned on me that night that I never really knew what kind of man Killian Wolfe truly was. He was painting with shade. I had come to doubt if truly all shade was true, ruthless. Cunning. Unshakable 

But I had begun to see flashes of other shades in him — pain. Control. Fury is barely leashed. He was the kind of man who didn't ask for power; rather, he took it.

And now I was caught in his storm.

I sat in bed, with my curtains closed, as I watched the muted TV as headlines scrolled at the bottom of the screen, and they were all versions of the same lie.

The Billionaire's New Fiancée: A Redemption Arc Or Revenge Plot?

We were all confused 

They didn't know the half of it. 

Neither did I.

The next morning, I walked to the balcony in Killian's dress shirt and no pants. The city was still buzzing below. The air was crisp, the sky overcast, but I welcomed the quiet 

A steaming mug of coffee was already waiting on the table 

A moment later, Killian joined me. He was already ready for work. Dressed in a gray suit. His eyes observed me, but his expression was unreadable.

“You didn't sleep much," he spoke up after much observation 

“I could say the same for you,” I replied 

“I had some business to attend." 

“I figured" 

He sat on the chair across from me and rested his arm on the table. 

“The man from last night wasn't bluffing," I said quietly, “was he? 

" No,” he admitted, " he works for some I once trusted.”

I swallowed. What did I do? I don't know, maybe I was relieved that this wasn't about me. "So this is personal.” 

There was a brief pause between us. Like he was thinking whether to continue the conversation 

"All wars are personal, Emery.” Killian finally spoke up. "But that one has long been overdue.” 

Then he looked at me, really looked at me 

“No," he said. “You were never a piece. You were the line I swore I would never cross, and I closed that line the moment I kissed you." 

I was at a loss for words. I don't know how to respond to him. My breath hitched at the sight of his gaze, but I felt something shift. The walls between us didn't vanish, but I felt them… they began to crack 

“Thank you," I murmured, unsure if I picked the right answer 

“For what?" He asked 

He leaned forward, voice rough. “You don’t just matter, Emery. You unravel me.”

I was speechless, my face heated up. I didn't know what my response should be. His sudden confession was overwhelming. I could ask if he was ok, but that might be inappropriate.

I was thinking of a response when my phone buzzed on the table, and a message popped up with no name, just a number I didn't recognize.

The message has a photo of Tobias at the bar sitting with the man who nearly choked me to death. 

They were drinking and laughing together, and a caption was attached to the photo

“You think you are safe?”