The morning sun did little to ease the tension in the mansion. Guards patrolled methodically, but I knew the threat wasn't gone—it had only gone deeper, more hidden, like a predator waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
The Don was already in the strategy room when I arrived, papers and digital maps spread before him. His dark eyes flicked to me, sharp and commanding.
"They're organized," he said without preamble. "More than I expected. And they have a leader—someone who knows how to strike without being seen."
"Leader?" I asked, frowning. "Who?"
He shook his head, running a hand through his dark hair. "I don't know yet. But I will find out. And when I do…" His gaze landed on me, possessive and protective, "no one will survive who tries to touch you."
A chill ran through me. No one. I knew he meant it. But part of me wondered… what if this enemy knew something about me—something only the auction could reveal?
Before I could ask, a sharp knock came at the door. The Don's expression darkened, and he moved faster than I could react. One of his men entered, bowing slightly.
"Sir," the man said, voice tight. "We've intercepted a message. They're planning something tonight. And… it's not just an attack on the mansion. They know her schedule."
My pulse quickened. "They… know me?"
"Yes," the Don said, voice low and dangerous. "And they will use you to get to me if I let them."
He stepped closer, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "Stay with me," he murmured. "No one touches you. Not tonight, not ever."
I swallowed, feeling the weight of his words. Danger had become a constant companion, and I had no choice but to embrace it. I was his, entirely, and together we would face whatever shadows the night brought.
And deep down, a part of me realized that surviving this war would change everything—me, him, and the bond that tied us together in ways neither of us could yet fully understand.