CHAPTER 2

Something was wrong.

Dominic Valtieri felt it the moment he stepped into the west wing corridor— an instinctive, primal sensation scraping down his spine.

The air was too still.

Too quiet.

The mansion, sprawling and opulent, was never silent. Even at night there were murmurs, footsteps, distant conversations, guards doing their rounds, the hum of servants performing the invisible labor that kept the estate immaculate.

But now— nothing.

A suffocating hush pressed against his ears, thick and unnatural.

A void.

A warning.

He moved faster, long strides slicing through the corridor.

“Althea?”

His voice echoed back at him, swallowed by the silence.

No answer.

He pushed open the door to her room.

The first thing he saw was emptiness.

The bed—rumpled. The curtains—billowing from an open window that should have been bolted. A glass—shattered, pieces glittering like ice on the floor. And on the dresser, small and delicate under the glow of the lamp— her necklace.

The one she never removed.

A slow, dense pressure formed in the center of Dom’s chest. Not panic. Never panic. He hadn’t felt that in decades. It was something deeper, colder, more lethal.

Not fear.

Rage.

He picked up the necklace, letting it dangle from his fingers. It swung like a metronome counting down to his breaking point.

Then the truth hit him— hard, sharp, merciless.

She left.

Thea—his wife, the woman he had brought into this fortress to protect, to control, to keep safe from enemies even she didn’t know existed— ran.

Or worse.

Someone helped her.

That thought snapped something inside him.

He strode toward the intercom and pressed the button so hard the panel cracked.

“Lock down the estate. Now.”

Sirens erupted instantly, howling through the halls. Iron gates slammed shut. Security lights flooded the grounds, illuminating every shadow.

Guards erupted into motion.

But Dom wasn’t looking at them. His gaze was pinned to the necklace, her scent still lingering, clutched in his hand— a familiar weight that now felt foreign.

Wrong.

He turned on his heel, his voice slicing through the chaos like a blade.

“Check the perimeter! The outer walls, all access points!”

“Yes, sir!”

“Search every camera feed. I want every corridor, every blind spot, every gate!”

“Yes, sir!”

“Bring me anyone who stepped foot in this wing tonight—”

“Sir!” a guard interrupted, breathless. “We found something. A breach in the southeast wall.”

Dom’s eyes narrowed.

“How big?”

“Small, sir. Someone squeezed through.”

His pulse hammered once—hard.

Thea.

His wife.

The one he swore to protect even from her own fragile, terrified heart.

He stormed toward the surveillance room. The air trembled around him, the weight of his fury suffocating everyone in his path.

“Show me everything.”

Screens flickered to life. Footage played. Guards fast-forwarded through hours, then—

“There,” one of them pointed.

Dom stiffened.

Two silhouettes. Moving fast along the outer wall. Heads low. Bodies tense.

The first— he recognized instantly.

Althea.

The second—

“Zoom in.”

The grainy image sharpened.

Jessica Sandoval.

Her loyal and close friend, who would do anything for his wife.

His teeth ground together.

The footage continued. Just as they approached the wall, a third figure stepped briefly into frame—

A flash of long hair. A familiar gait. A protective stance angled toward Thea.

Isabelle.

Dom inhaled slowly, like drawing breath before plunging into a war he already knew he would win.

His sister.

He stared at the screen, face utterly unreadable.

She had been careful. She hadn’t appeared in any other camera. Just one second of footage—barely anything.

Accidental?

No.

Isabelle was many things, but careless was not one of them.

Still, he said nothing.

Because he loved her. Because despite everything, Isabelle was blood. Because if she had helped Thea… He wasn’t ready to know her reasons.

Not yet.

His mother entered the room then, her expression sharp, her posture rigid.

“Dominic.”

A demand disguised as a greeting. “What happened?”

He tilted the screen toward her.

Her face drained of color.

“She ran.”

“She was taken.” His voice was a warning—low, measured, lethal. “There’s a difference.”

“Is there?” his mother countered, folding her arms. “You kept her here. You restricted her movements. She felt trapped, Dominic. She—”

“I kept her alive.” His eyes burned into hers. “You know why she can’t be out there. You know who’s after her. And now she’s exposed.”

His mother swallowed hard.

Because he was right.

Danger circled Thea like a hunting wolf.

Dom’s jaw clenched. He remembered— days ago, when he had found her in the garden, touching her stomach with a softness she never showed anymore. A gesture he didn’t understand then. Only felt a chill from. A warning he ignored.

Now it carved into him like a blade.

He turned to his men.

“Prepare the cars. We leave immediately.”

His mother stepped into his path.

“Dominic. Stop.”

He turned slowly. A storm in human form.

“Move.”

“You can’t storm after her in this state.”

“She’s scared.”

“You’re not thinking clearly—”

“She is my wife.”

The room stilled.

“My wife,” he repeated, softer but far more dangerous. He looked down at his mother, towering over her. “And I will bring her home.”

He brushed past his mother. This time, she didn’t stop him.

Outside, the night spread wide and dark across the estate grounds. Engines roared. Armed men stood ready, awaiting commands.

Dom paused at the mansion steps, scanning the shadows Thea had disappeared into as if he could still catch the ghost of her footsteps.

“She won’t get far,” he whispered.

Not a threat.

A vow.

The world beyond these gates was full of predators who wanted her.

Wanted what she can carry.

And she— soft, gentle, terrified— would never survive them.

He still felt her presence around him, a phantom warmth lingering on his skin. A memory that refused to die.

He would find her.

He would protect her.

He would bring her back— whether she wanted to return or not.

With one final order— cold, sharp, absolute— he stepped into the SUV.

“Track her.”

And the Valtieri convoy thundered into the night.