The words from the elevator still echoed in Natasha's head—Sometimes the cost is paid in blood.
She told herself it was just Edward being dramatic, but the unease clung to her like a second skin.
The next morning, she walked into Blackwood Enterprises earlier than usual, hoping the quiet would give her time to review the Alden files again. But as she stepped into her office, she froze.
Her desk was exactly as she'd left it—except for a single white envelope in the center. No name. No return address.
She opened it slowly, her breath catching when she saw what was inside: a printed photograph of her from the night before, leaving the building. Her head was slightly turned toward the camera, as if she'd sensed she was being watched. Below the photo, typed in bold letters:
WALK AWAY.
No signature. No explanation.
She scanned the hallway, but it was empty. Forcing herself to breathe evenly, she slipped the photo into her bag. The rational thing would have been to go straight to Edward, but some instinct told her to wait. She needed to think.
The day dragged with an unnatural heaviness. Every glance over her shoulder, every unexpected sound made her nerves tighten. By noon, she was certain someone was watching her—maybe in the lobby, maybe across the street. She could never quite catch them.
When Edward finally called her into his office, she expected him to dive into the Alden investigation. Instead, he gestured to the seat across from his desk.
"You've been quiet today."
"Just tired," she lied.
His eyes narrowed. "No. You're alert, but distracted. What happened?"
She hesitated, then reached into her bag and placed the photo on his desk.
Edward picked it up, studied it without a flicker of surprise, then set it down carefully. "When did this arrive?"
"This morning. It was on my desk when I came in."
"Who else have you told?"
"No one."
"Good." He leaned back, his gaze sharpening. "Natasha, you need to understand something—once you're in my world, the people who come after me will come after you too. This isn't a threat to scare you. It's a test to see if you'll run."
"And if I fail the test?"
"Then you were never meant to be here."
His calmness was more unsettling than anger. She swallowed. "What do you want me to do?"
"Stay. Work. Don't change your routine. Whoever sent this will be watching, and they'll want to see fear. Don't give it to them."
Easier said than done, she thought.
---
That afternoon, Edward sent her to meet with a potential client—a logistics firm looking to partner with Blackwood Enterprises. Daniel Hayes insisted on accompanying her, claiming it was "good practice" for handling corporate negotiations.
The meeting was uneventful, but on the drive back, Daniel glanced at her from the passenger seat. "You've been jumpy today."
"I'm fine," she replied, too quickly.
"Uh-huh." He smirked. "You know, if you're going to survive here, you should learn one thing—Edward doesn't have friends. He has pieces on a chessboard. And sometimes, when the game gets messy…" He drew an invisible line across his throat.
She kept her eyes on the road. "And what are you, Daniel?"
"Me?" His smile didn't reach his eyes. "I'm the piece that can move in any direction."
They returned to the building just as the sun dipped low, painting the city in shades of gold and crimson. Natasha tried to shake off the conversation, but it stayed with her. Daniel's tone hadn't been purely mocking—there was a warning in it.
---
Later that evening, long after most employees had left, Natasha stayed to finish cross-referencing Alden's invoices. She was buried in spreadsheets when the lights in her office flickered. Then, the screen on her laptop went black.
Before she could react, a message appeared in large red letters across the screen:
LAST WARNING.
Her pulse spiked. She reached for her phone, but before she could dial, the office door opened.
It was Edward.
His gaze swept the room, landing on the glowing red text. In two strides, he was at her desk, shutting the laptop with controlled force.
"Go home," he said, his voice low.
"What? No, I need to—"
"Natasha." His tone left no room for argument. "This isn't a negotiation."
She gathered her things quickly, trying not to feel like she was fleeing. As they stepped out together, Edward kept a hand lightly at her back—subtle, but protective. In the lobby, he steered her toward the private elevator.
"I'll have someone follow you home," he said.
"That's not necessary."
"It is."
The ride down was silent except for the soft hum of the elevator. But when the doors opened to the underground parking garage, Natasha's breath caught.
Her car was there, but so was another photograph—taped to the driver's side window. This one was closer, sharper. Taken from inside her building's lobby. The message this time was handwritten in black ink:
LEAVE BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE.
Edward peeled it off, scanning it before folding it once and sliding it into his pocket. "They're escalating."
"Who are they?"
"That's what I intend to find out."
---
Back at her apartment, Natasha double-locked the door and drew the curtains. She paced, phone in hand, debating whether to call Edward or Daniel, then decided neither would help her sleep.
Hours later, just as she was drifting off, her phone buzzed. A new message from an unknown number:
You've been warned. Next time, it won't be paper.
Natasha sat up, heart pounding. Her first instinct was to reply, but Edward's words came back to her—Don't give them fear. Instead, she took a screenshot and sent it to him.
The reply came within seconds:
Do not respond. Lock your doors. I'm sending someone.
She stared at the screen, torn between relief and frustration. This wasn't her fight. She could walk away now and never look back.
But deep down, she knew she wouldn't.
---
The next morning, Edward was waiting in the lobby when she arrived. He handed her a coffee without a word and walked with her toward the elevator. "I have a meeting in an hour," he said quietly. "While I'm gone, you'll be working with Daniel."
She frowned. "Is that safe?"
He gave her a thin smile. "Depends on your definition of safe."
When they reached her floor, he stopped her before she stepped out. "Natasha—remember what I told you in the elevator. Every move has a cost. The question is, are you willing to pay it?"
Her answer came without hesitation. "Yes."
Edward studied her for a long moment, then nodded. "Good. Then let's make our next move."
The doors closed between them, but Natasha felt the weight of the game settle heavier on her shoulders.
The first strike had been made. Now, the real war was about to begin.