Damien's POV
The coffee cup explodes against my office wall.
"Get out," I tell my assistant without looking at him. My eyes stay locked on the security monitor where Aria is cleaning up broken glass at the diner.
"Sir, the Vandermeres are waiting for your response—"
"I said get out!" My voice comes out wrong—too raw, too desperate. Marcus freezes in the doorway. In the three years he's worked for me, I've never lost control like this.
But he doesn't understand. Nobody does.
They found her. After three years of keeping her hidden, keeping her safe, the Vandermeres finally tracked her down. And now they want her back.
I watch Aria on the screen, her hands shaking as she dumps the broken ceramic in the trash. She's exhausted. Dark circles under her eyes. Hair falling out of its ponytail. She's been working double shifts since Elena died, trying to pay off medical bills for a woman who was already gone.
My jaw clenches. Elena Cross deserved everything she got. She helped steal Aria from her family, took money to make a child disappear. The fact that she raised Aria with love doesn't erase what she did.
But Aria doesn't know that yet. She loved Elena. She's grieving.
And I've been watching her grieve for three months, unable to comfort her, unable to tell her I exist.
"Sir?" Marcus hasn't left. "Mr. Pierce just arrived at the diner. He's making contact right now."
My heart stops. I switch camera angles to the diner's entrance. Sure enough, Robert Pierce—the Vandermeres' lawyer—walks through the door in his expensive suit, looking completely out of place.
"No." The word rips from my chest. "It's too soon. She's not ready."
"The family gave the order. They want her brought in immediately."
I'm already on my feet, grabbing my jacket. "Send a team to the diner. I want eyes on her every second. If Pierce tries to take her anywhere tonight, stop him."
"He's her family's representative—"
"I don't care!" I slam my hand on the desk so hard the monitors shake. "She doesn't go anywhere without my protection. Not after everything I've done to keep her safe."
Marcus stares at me like I've lost my mind. Maybe I have. Three years of watching someone, learning their habits, memorizing their routines—it does something to you. Changes you.
I know Aria drinks her coffee black because she can't afford cream. I know she has nightmares about fire every Tuesday night. I know she talks to Elena's photograph before bed, apologizing for things that aren't her fault.
I know things I shouldn't know. Things that prove I'm exactly the monster she'll think I am when she finds out.
"Prepare the compound," I order, forcing my voice steady. "She's coming home tonight or tomorrow. I want her suite ready. Full security team. No one gets in or out without my approval."
"You mean the Vandermeres' approval—"
"My approval." I meet his eyes and let him see the truth there. "I don't work for the Vandermeres. I never did. They hired me to find their daughter, and I did. But everything I've done since then? That's been for her."
Marcus backs toward the door. Good. Let him be afraid. Let him understand that I'm not the professional security expert everyone thinks I am.
When it comes to Aria Cross, I'm something much more dangerous.
I return to the monitors. Pierce is showing her photographs now. Her birth mother. The mansion. The DNA results. I can see Aria's face going pale, her hands gripping the counter.
She's scared. She should be.
The Vandermere family destroys everything they touch. They crushed Marcus Vandermere's business rivals. They silenced witnesses to the kidnapping. They've spent twenty-three years lying about what really happened the night Aria disappeared.
And now they want her back—not because they love her, but because she's worth five billion dollars.
My phone buzzes. A message from my private investigator: "Vivienne Vandermere just transferred two million dollars to an offshore account. Recipient unknown."
I already know who it is. She's paying someone to handle a problem. And that problem is probably whoever still knows the truth about the kidnapping.
People are going to die soon. They always do when the Vandermeres feel threatened.
I switch to another camera feed—the one inside Aria's apartment. The one she doesn't know exists. I installed it six months ago when someone broke into the building. The police called it a robbery, but three apartments were passed over to attempt Aria's door.
Someone's been looking for her. Someone besides me and the Vandermeres.
On screen, I see the photograph I left taped to her apartment door earlier today. The one of her sleeping. She needed to understand she's not safe, that staying in her old life will get her killed.
She needed a reason to accept the Vandermeres' protection.
To accept me.
My phone rings. Pierce's number.
"She's agreed to come to the office tomorrow," he says. "But Blackwell, there's something you should know. Someone else contacted her tonight. Anonymous texts warning her not to trust the family."
My blood runs cold. "What did they say?"
"That we're lying. That her mother knows who took her. They mentioned Elena Cross by name."
Impossible. Only four people knew Elena's connection to the kidnapping: Elena herself, me, Vivienne Vandermere, and whoever Vivienne hired to orchestrate it. Elena's dead. Vivienne wouldn't expose herself. Which means—
"There's a fifth person," I realize. "Someone else knows the truth."
"Should we increase security?"
"Immediately. I want a team outside her apartment tonight. Nobody gets close to her."
I end the call and pull up the apartment feed again. Aria's pacing her tiny living room, phone in hand, reading the mysterious texts over and over.
She's terrified. Alone. Vulnerable.
Everything in me screams to go to her, to break down her door and take her somewhere safe where no one can hurt her. But I can't. Not yet. She doesn't know me. If I show up now, I'm just another stranger making demands.
So I do what I've done for three years. I watch. I protect from the shadows. I make sure she survives another night.
Hours pass. She finally falls asleep on her couch, phone still clutched in her hand. I should stop watching. Should give her privacy.
But I can't.
I've memorized everything about her. The way she curls up when she's scared. The way she touches the birthmark on her shoulder when she's thinking. The way she whispers Elena's name in her sleep.
"I'm sorry," I tell the screen, knowing she can't hear me. "For watching you. For keeping you from your family for three years. For being the monster who's obsessed with you."
My finger reaches out, touching her face on the monitor.
"But I'm not sorry for keeping you alive. And I'm not sorry for what I'm about to do."
Behind me, Marcus clears his throat. I didn't hear him come back.
"The compound is ready, sir. When should I tell the Vandermeres you'll bring her in?"
"You won't." I stand up, grabbing my keys. "I'm getting her now. Tonight. Before whoever sent those texts makes their next move."
"But Pierce said tomorrow—"
"Pierce doesn't understand. The texts, the photograph, the warnings—someone's accelerating their timeline. If we wait until tomorrow, Aria might be dead."
I head for the door, then pause. On the monitor, Aria stirs in her sleep. Her lips move, forming words I've heard a hundred times through the audio feed: "Please don't leave me alone."
She's been saying that since Elena died. Every night. The same plea to a ghost who can't answer.
My chest tightens with something that feels like pain.
"I won't," I whisper to the screen. "I promise. You'll never be alone again."
I'm halfway to the elevator when my phone explodes with alerts. Security breach. Aria's building. Armed intruder heading for her apartment.
My heart stops.
I'm fifteen minutes away. Fifteen minutes too far.
I pull up the apartment feed on my phone as I run. The screen shows Aria's living room—
Empty.
She's gone.
The couch where she fell asleep is vacant. The window behind it stands open. And on her coffee table, arranged in letters made from cut-out magazine words, is a message:
WE HAVE YOUR DAUGHTER AGAIN. IF YOU WANT HER BACK, COME ALONE.
My entire world tilts.
No. No, no, no.
I kept her safe for three years. Three years of watching, protecting, eliminating threats before they could reach her. And the moment the Vandermeres found her—the moment I let my guard down for one night—
She's gone.
I grab my phone, dialing my team. "Lock down the city. Every bridge, every tunnel, every airport. Find her. Find her NOW!"
But even as I'm shouting orders, I know the truth that's burning through my chest like acid:
I failed her. And whoever took Aria this time isn't planning to keep her hidden for twenty-three years.
They're planning to make her disappear forever.