Chapter 57

• Chapter 57: The Flame She Lit
• The night settles around the estate like a silk cloak stitched in silence and shadow. With the final layer of security meticulously configured—motion detectors, thermal sensors, biometric locks on all elevator access points, and reinforced surveillance linked to his phone—he finally exhales. The tech room hums behind thick steel walls, the feed streaming smooth and clear, and for the first time in forty-eight hours, he lets himself loosen the tension in his shoulders. Every precaution he could possibly take has been enforced. She’s trapped in his web, caged in velvet and gold. There will be no more slip-ups.
• He adjusts the cuffs of his black shirt and straightens his tailored jacket, a dark silk blend clinging to his frame with precise elegance. The hour is nearing midnight, and that familiar ritual of blood, loyalty, and clandestine whispers with his brothers is calling. He moves with calm, deliberate grace—shoulders squared, jaw locked, his gun holstered beneath the jacket as he checks the time. She, however, is still there—exactly where he left her.