LOGINNine days became eight. Every corridor that still contained an outdated lock was treated as hostile territory. Patrols doubled in those sections. No one moved through them without a full escort and a live radio link. “Eight days.” I pressed a hand to my stomach. “They’re still out there. The keys. The people who took them. Dante’s sweeps haven’t produced a new body or a new trail since the second set disappeared.” “Then they’re waiting for the hour when attention splits,” he said. “The ceremony is still the brightest target. Everything else is just keeping the door open until that hour arrives.” Then the first sign that the door was already being tested came. A camera on an unfinished corridor near the old staff stairs registered movement where no patrol was scheduled. The figure wore dark work like clothes and moved with the confidence of someone who belonged there. He approached a barred door at the end of the corridor, reached into a pocket, and produced a key. The external bar
Twelve days became eleven while the house tore itself apart looking for one man and a set of keys. The re-coring of locks began at first light. Teams worked corridor by corridor, changing cores, testing new keys, sealing any door that could not be updated before nightfall. The utility tunnels under the laundry wing were searched again, this time with dogs and portable sensors. They came up empty. No fresh scent trail. Killian stayed with me in the interior suite. The monitors recorded it. Dante did not order him back to his own rooms. He cleaned his sidearm twice during the morning. I watched the steady, familiar motions and tried to ignore the way the nausea came and went in short, vicious waves. Enzo brought the midday update himself. His face was tired. “Father won’t move the date. Dante agrees. The ceremony stays on the eleventh day from now. They’re treating the missing keys as a contained risk as long as the conference room and the residential core are fully re-cored before t
Thirteen days became twelve with the house still locked. The failed courier attempt had removed any remaining casualness from the routines. Every door between the outer walls and the inner conference room now required two separate clearances. Killian’s movement monitors stayed active, but Dante had authorized him to carry a full sidearm again. The compromise was unspoken and practical. The man who had already taken a bullet for the pregnancy was more useful armed than restricted when the next approach came. I felt the pregnancy more sharply under the constant tension. Nausea arrived in shorter waves. My back ached from the long hours of sitting through briefings and medical checks. The doctor noted the stress and repeated the same useless advice. I nodded, left the medical wing, and went straight to the next meeting. Bianca had begun appearing in the security corridor more often. She asked no more pointed questions about seating charts. She simply watched the rotations, the faces, t
A maintenance van approached the service entrance with correct papers and a familiar contractor logo. The gate team followed protocol, held the vehicle, and ran the secondary check. The driver and the man in the passenger seat both carried the confidence of people who had done this before. When the rear doors were opened for inspection, the false floor was almost good enough. Almost. The hidden compartment held short range weapons, plastic explosives in small charges, and a simple remote trigger. Not enough for another full siege. Enough to breach a single reinforced door or collapse a section of corridor during a ceremony. The men were taken alive. The interrogation was short and one sided. They had been paid through a cut out that traced back to the same Valenti lieutenant identified in the earlier warehouse surveillance. The target window was clear. The day of the wedding or the final forty eight hours before it, when attention would be split between security and the ceremony itse
On the afternoon of the sixteenth day, a small breach attempt hit the eastern service gate. Not a full assault. A probe. Two men in delivery uniforms tried to pass a false work order. The gate team stopped them. One reached for a weapon. The exchange was short. When the bodies were searched, both carried the same Valenti linked mark that had appeared in the earlier surveillance. Dante delivered the report in the study with the doors closed. Father listened without visible reaction. Killian stood near the window, with his arms folded. “They’re testing response times,” Killian said. “Measuring how fast we move, how many men we commit to a secondary gate, how long the main house takes to lock down. The real strike will come closer to the ceremony, when attention is split.” Father nodded once. “Then we do not split attention. The wedding remains on schedule. Security increases. No further adjustments to the guest list. No external staff. If Lorenzo wants an opportunity to strike, he wi
A report reached Dante while I was in the medical wing for a routine check. I heard the raised voices from the hallway and stepped out to find him and Marco bent over a tablet. Enzo stood nearby, face tight. Killian arrived a moment later, moving as fast as the healing shoulder allowed. “What is it?” I asked. Dante hesitated, then turned the screen so I could see. Surveillance images. A known Valenti lieutenant meeting with two men who specialized in quiet, targeted work. The timestamp was recent. The location was a warehouse on the edge of the neutral zone between territories. “They’re not planning another full assault,” Dante said. “They’re planning something smaller and more precise. The pregnancy is confirmed. The wedding will make the child harder to erase through open war. So they’re shifting to a surgical option.” Killian’s good hand curled into a fist. “They want the mother or the father. Remove one and the claim weakens.” “Or both,” Marco added. “Before the ceremony lock
Killian’s groans vibrated against my neck as I kept grinding on his lap. The thick bulge of his cock pressed right against my soaked pussy through our clothes. Every roll of my hips made the leather of my dress ride higher and sent sparks shooting through my clit. I was dripping wet, my black lace
The booth felt too small, too hot. Killian’s body pressed against mine, hard and unyielding. His hand was still tangled in my hair, his grey eyes burning down at me like he was one second from breaking. The tequila from earlier gave me the courage I needed. I pushed him back until his legs hit the
He dragged me through the crowd toward the back of the club. People moved out of his way fast. Sofia caught my eye from the dance floor and smirked, giving me a little wave like she knew exactly what was happening. My heels clicked fast on the floor as I stumbled to keep up with his long strides. T
One tall guy with dark hair moved in front of me. He wasn’t bad looking. He matched my rhythm, his hands hovering near my waist. I kept dancing, letting the heat of the club and the alcohol push me. My eyes scanned the upper level for a second. There he was. Killian. Still in the shadows, watching







