Ethan's POV
The farmhouse felt smaller with every passing second.
Not physically, the walls were still where they'd always been, the windows still tall, the heavy wood still rich and warm.
But the air had shifted. The house wasn't a sanctuary anymore.
It was a target.
And dawn was the deadline.
The message vibrated through my bones:
See you at dawn.
I'd been on battlefields. Real ones. Corporate ones. Psychological ones.
But this…
this was personal warfare in its purest form.
Across the room, Raina was sitting on the marble floor, back pressed against the wall, phone shaking in her hand.
Her eyes were too wide, too glassy, looking at something I couldn't see, something only she could remember.
December.
I pushed the image of her falling apart out of my chest and forced myself into motion.
"Mike," I said, my voice lower than usual. "We have three hours.
Run the full sequence."
He didn't waste time asking which sequence.
We only had one for this kind of threat
the protocol I designed two years ago,
the night I realized the enemy wasn't going to stop hunting her.
Mike moved instantly.
Switches flipped.
Screens lit up.
A dozen feeds cluttered the monitors, the gates, the driveways, the perimeter, the bordering woods.
Still empty.
For now.
I looked at Raina once more.
I gave Mike a nod,
Her breath was uneven.
Her fingers were white from holding the phone too tightly.
Her lip trembled in that way she never allowed anyone to see.
Her pain hit me harder than the metal rod earlier.
"Rai," I said softly.
She didn't look up.
The leak was replaying in her head now, not the clip but the memory it came from.
I recognized the signs.
Shock.
Flashback.
Dissociation pulling at the edges of her eyes.
I crouched in front of her, ribs screaming, blood drying at my jaw.
"You're safe," I whispered.
She shook her head once, a small fractured motion.
"No one is safe. They're coming. You saw the message.."
"And I'll be here when they arrive."
Her eyes locked onto mine then, angry, wet, terrified.
"Why?" she whispered.
"Why do you keep ruining my life, Ethan? Why won't you let me live it?"
The question stung.
But I didn't show it.
"Because," I said calmly, "if I had let you live it, you'd be dead."
Silence.
Raw.
Sharp.
Heavy.
She closed her eyes like the truth hurt more than the lie ever could.
I stood. My ribs protested — a sharp twist of pain.
I ignored it.
"Mike," I said, "get her upstairs. Pack essentials."
She stiffened.
"I'm not running."
"You're not," I said. "You're relocating."
Her voice cracked. "To where?"
"My Bel-Air estate."
She stared at me like that was the final betrayal.
"You want me trapped in your house?"
"I want you alive."
I didn't sugarcoat it.
"And the media?" she whispered. "If I leave with you..."
"By 9 AM," I said, "the media will be fed something far more interesting than your clip."
Her brows pinched.
"What does that mean?"
"It means," I said, pulling the secure laptop toward me, "I'm about to give them a story… one that cuts the leak's throat before it spreads."
Mike spoke from behind me.
"Sir, you're planning to override the leak?"
"I'm planning," I said calmly, "to make the leak irrelevant."
Raina looked between us like she was listening to a foreign language.
I opened Vikram's encrypted line.
He answered on the second ring.
His voice was thunder wrapped in silk.
"Is she with you?"
"Yes," I said. "And she's safe."
"Is she stable?"
I looked at her, the tremble in her breath, the tight fists, the wobbling composure.
"No," I said honestly. "But she will be."
Vikram exhaled, sharp, controlled anger.
"You need to contain this," he said.
"My daughter cannot be dragged through the mud again. I will not watch her be destroyed."
"You won't," I said.
"My strategy is simple."
I clicked open the document Mike had prepared.
The words stared back at me:
Psychiatrist Dr. Raina Mehta to Lead New Neuro-Trauma Research Division in Global Collaboration with Hale Industries. She is the wife of Mr. Hale. She will be contributing in the research.
A partnership.
A position.
A narrative.
If the world saw her as a professional stepping into a major scientific collaboration,
they would not see her as the woman in the blurry clip.
"Ethan…" Raina whispered. "What are you doing?"
"Saving your career," I said. "Saving your name. Saving you."
Her eyes filled again.
Not with relief.
With disbelief.
"I never asked you to save me."
"I know," I said softly. "That's why I'm doing it."
The sting in her eyes deepened.
Vikram spoke again, voice low:
"Once the statement is public, the media will have to cover it. The leak will lose attention."
"Yes."
"And the masked men?"
I looked at the gates through the camera.
Still empty.
But not for long.
"They'll show up right at dawn," I said.
"That's what they promised."
"And you?" Vikram asked.
"I'll be waiting."
Raina flinched at the tone in my voice.
Vikram's words dropped to a whisper:
"Don't let her see it, Ethan."
"She won't," I replied.
The line disconnected.
I shut the laptop.
Mike approached.
"Vehicles are ready. Routes secure. Backup teams within two minutes' reach."
"And the McLaren?" I asked.
"In the garage. Being patched. They damaged suspension."
I smirked slightly.
"Good. Means I hit them back harder."
Mike didn't smile.
"Ethan," he said quietly, "they were professionals. They were confident. Too confident. They think you're distracted."
"I am distracted," I said, glancing at Raina.
"That's the point."
Her eyes widened, confused, vulnerable.
The door camera beeped once.
Motion detected.
I snapped my attention to the feed.
A car idled outside the gate.
Headlights off.
Engine humming low.
Tinted windows.
Black as a coffin.
Raina gasped behind me.
"Is that.."
"No," I said. "It's not the media."
Mike stepped closer.
"They're early."
I nodded once, slow.
"They're scared I might get ahead of them."
Another message buzzed on her phone.
She looked down.
Her face drained of color.
I took the phone from her before she fainted.
The message read:
We said dawn.
But you're leaving.
So we came early.
I lifted my head slowly toward the screen.
The car door opened.
One masked man stepped out.
Then another.
Then a third.
They were the same build, same gait, same stance as the ones I fought, but these moved more confidently.
They weren't here to warn.
They were here to take.
Raina's voice trembled.
"Ethan… what do we do?"
I placed myself directly between her and the door.
"We end this," I said calmly. "Right now."
Mike moved to the security panel.
"Sir, should I activate lockdown? Should I call the sheriff's deputies?"
"No."
My voice was ice.
"Sheriffs won't reach in time.
Lockdown traps us.
We face them."
Raina grabbed my arm, a desperate, trembling hold.
"You can't fight them again," she whispered.
"You're bleeding,Ethan, look at yourself..."
I turned slightly toward her.
"Rai," I said, voice soft but unshakeable.
"No matter what happens…
you stay behind me."
Her lips parted, but no sound came out.
I walked toward the front door.
Every step a promise.
Every breath controlled pain.
Dawn was still twenty minutes away.
But the war had arrived early.