Chapter 7: The Anonymous Guardian

Lucian’s POV

I sat in the back of the limousine, the scent of Sarah’s perfume making me want to roll down the window and jump into traffic.

"Did you see her face?" Sarah was scrolling through her phone, checking the social media tags from the gala. "The gallery owner looked like she’d seen a ghost when you offered the cash. People are so pathetic when they see a Blackwood, even a 'bankrupt' one."

"Shut up, Sarah," I said quietly.

She froze, her eyes flashing. "What did you say?"

"I said shut up. The act is for the cameras, not for this car."

I looked out the window. I had smelled it. In that corner, near the marble pillar. It was faint—so faint I thought I might be hallucinating—but it was there. The scent of lily of the valley. It was the soap Evelyn had used for three years.

I knew she was there. I had felt her pulse in the room like a frequency only I could tune into.

"Marcus," I said into the intercom.

"Yes, sir?"

"The designer, E.V. Find out where she’s staying. If anyone else is following her, neutralize them. Do not let her see you."

"Already on it, sir," Marcus replied.

I leaned my head back against the leather seat and closed my eyes. The Vane Syndicate was getting restless. They had realized the "bankruptcy" hadn't stopped my shadow operations. They were looking for leverage, and Sarah was too obvious to be a target. They knew me too well; they knew I wouldn't burn the world for Sarah.

But they suspected there was someone else.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out a small, crumpled piece of paper. It was a receipt I’d found in the trash of the pharmacy three towns over—the one Marcus had tracked her to weeks ago.

Black Hair Dye. Prenatal Vitamins.

The word Prenatal had nearly stopped my heart.

I was going to be a father. And I was the only person in the world who couldn't hold the child.

I looked at Sarah, who was busy taking a selfie. She was my shield, but she was also a ticking time bomb. If she ever found out about the baby, she would hand that information to the Syndicate herself just to watch me crawl.

"We need to move the timeline up," I said to Marcus, ignoring Sarah’s confused look. "The Syndicate's shipment arrives at the docks on Friday. I want the police, the feds, and the rival families all there at the same time."

"That’s a suicide mission, sir," Marcus’s voice crackled.

"Then I’ll die," I said, my voice devoid of emotion. "But by the time the smoke clears, the Vane family will be extinct. And she... she’ll be free."

"And what about the child?" Marcus whispered.

I looked at the window, my reflection a mask of cold fury. "The child will grow up knowing their mother is a hero. They don't need a father like me."

That night, after I dropped Sarah off at her hotel, I drove myself to the East End. I parked the car three blocks away and walked through the rain, staying in the shadows.

I stood across the street from a delipidated apartment building. On the third floor, a single light was on.

I watched as a silhouette moved across the window. She was holding a sketchpad. She paused, leaning against the glass, looking out at the city. She looked so small, so fragile, yet so incredibly brave.

I stood there for three hours, letting the rain soak my suit, acting as a silent sentry. I was the ghost in her hallway, the shadow in her street, the monster who loved her enough to let her hate him.

"Just a little longer, Eve," I whispered into the dark. "Just a little longer, and you can come home."

But as I turned to leave, I saw a red dot flicker on the brickwork just inches from where she stood behind the glass.

A sniper’s laser.

My heart stopped. They weren't waiting for the docks. They were starting now.

"Marcus!" I roared into my headset, already sprinting toward her building. "CODE RED! GET THE TEAMS HERE NOW!"

The game of cat and mouse was over. The war had just come to her doorstep.