Chapter two

Damon Moreau hated hospitals. They smelled like antiseptic and loss. They felt like quiet rooms where people whispered prayers they didn’t believe in. 

He stood beside his mother’s body, his hands locked together so tightly that his knuckles had gone pale. Evelyn Moreau looked peaceful, as if she were only asleep. A faint bruise darkened her temple where she had hit the marble floor after the bullet tore through her chest. 

Damon replayed that moment in his mind a thousand times. The echo of the gunshot. Her startled gasp. The way she stepped forward without thinking. Without fear. For him. 

He pressed his lips together until he tasted blood. Power meant nothing when you couldn’t protect the person who mattered most. 

The doctor spoke softly beside him, explaining procedures and timelines, but Damon barely heard. Everything sounded distant, like it was underwater. He signed forms he didn’t remember reading. He nodded at condolences that bounced off his skin. 

By the time he left the private wing, Damon Moreau was becoming someone else. 

Harder. Colder. Untouchable. 

Three days later, Damon sat at the head of the conference table in his penthouse boardroom while twelve executives pretended not to stare at the empty chair beside him. His mother’s chair. 

Security reports scrolled across the holographic display behind him. Threat assessments. Vehicle route changes. Temporary lockdown protocols. 

He absorbed everything without comment. 

“Until we identify the shooter, all public appearances are suspended,” his chief of security said. “We’ve increased perimeter surveillance and rotated personnel.” 

Damon lifted his eyes. “Not good enough.” 

A hush fell over the room. 

“I don’t care how many men you put outside,” Damon continued evenly. “Someone got close enough to kill my mother in broad daylight. That means there’s a leak. Find it.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

When the meeting ended, Damon dismissed everyone except Matteo Laurent. 

Matteo leaned casually against the window, his expensive suit flawless and his expression sympathetic. 

“I should’ve been there,” Matteo said quietly. “Evelyn trusted me. I failed her too.” 

Damon studied his longtime friend. Matteo had been at his side since Lucius’s death—helping restructure the company, managing hostile takeovers, and building political alliances. Damon owed him more than he could count. 

Yet lately, something about Matteo’s presence made Damon uneasy. 

“You didn’t pull the trigger,” Damon said. 

“No. But I didn’t stop it either.” 

Matteo met Damon’s gaze steadily. “Let me help you. I have contacts. Discreet ones.” 

Damon nodded once. 

“Do it.” 

Luca Raines watched the building from across the street through polarized lenses. 

He had been stationed on rooftops before. In jungles. War zones. Extraction corridors soaked in blood. 

But this? Standing twenty floors below a billionaire’s glass palace, pretending to be just another security contractor? 

This was worse. 

Because Damon Moreau was alive. And Evelyn Moreau was dead. 

Luca closed his eyes briefly. 

He could still feel the trigger under his finger. Still see her stepping into his line of fire. 

Collateral damage, Adrian had said. Necessary. 

Luca swallowed hard. 

He had never missed a primary target before. Never hesitated. 

But something about Damon had broken his rhythm. 

Maybe it was the way Damon had leaned toward his mother when Luca lined up the shot. Maybe it was how human he looked. 

Adrian’s voice echoed in Luca’s earpiece. 

“You’re being inserted as close protection. Full access. Finish it clean this time.” 

Luca didn’t respond. He already knew the consequences of silence. 

Damon met his new bodyguard in the elevator. 

The man was tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in a plain black suit that didn’t quite conceal the lethal grace beneath it. Dark hair fell carelessly over sharp gray eyes. A thin scar traced his jawline. 

He looked like someone who didn’t belong anywhere soft. 

“Luca Raines,” the man said. “Private security.” 

Their eyes met. 

Something electric snapped between them. 

Damon felt it in his chest. 

“You’ll be working directly with me,” Damon said. 

“Yes, sir.” 

Luca’s voice was low and controlled. 

Too controlled. 

Damon studied him openly. Years of negotiating hostile acquisitions taught him how to read people. Luca gave away nothing. No nervous tells. No ego. Just quiet vigilance. 

“You have no online footprint,” Damon said as they exited the elevator. “No childhood records. No service history.” 

Luca didn’t blink. “Operational discretion.” 

Damon stopped walking. 

Luca halted instantly. 

They stood alone in the hallway. 

“Everyone has a past,” Damon said. 

Luca met his gaze evenly. “Some of us pay to erase it.” 

The answer was smooth. 

Too smooth. 

Damon nodded slowly and continued down the corridor, but the unease lingered. 

This man was not what he claimed to be. 

That night, Damon woke from a nightmare drenched in sweat. 

Gunfire. His mother screaming his name. 

He sat upright, his heart pounding. 

The bedroom door opened silently. 

Luca stepped inside. 

“I heard movement,” Luca said quietly. “Just checking.” 

Damon stared at him, his chest still tight. 

For a moment, neither spoke. 

Then Damon exhaled shakily. 

“I don’t sleep anymore.” 

Luca hesitated. 

Then he moved closer. 

“You will,” Luca said. “Eventually.” 

Their eyes held. 

Something fragile passed between them. 

Damon looked away first. 

“Get some rest,” he murmured. 

Luca nodded and left. 

But long after the door closed, Damon lay awake, wondering why the presence of the man meant to protect him felt more dangerous than any threat outside. 

Across the city, Adrian Kessler reviewed satellite feeds with cold precision. 

“You hesitated once,” Adrian said into the secure line. “You don’t get a second chance.” 

Luca stood alone on the penthouse balcony, watching Damon’s lights burn in the dark. 

“I’m inside,” Luca replied. 

“Good.” 

Adrian’s tone sharpened. 

“Finish the job.” 

Luca closed his eyes. 

Inside, Damon laughed quietly at something on his tablet, unaware that the man guarding his door was the same one who had destroyed his world. 

And for the first time in Luca Raines’s career, the mission felt impossible. 

Luca slipped his hand into his jacket and felt the familiar weight of the concealed weapon, while inside the penthouse, Damon whispered his mother’s name in his sleep.