Mira's POV
"Don't open that door!" I scream.
Kieran freezes with his gun pointed at the entrance. The doorknob keeps turning, slow and deliberate. Marcus is trying to get in.
"Mira, please," Marcus calls through the wood. "I'm not here to hurt you. I'm here to warn you. Kieran Thorne isn't who you think he is."
"Shut up!" I yell, surprising myself with the anger in my voice. Three months of pain and humiliation surge up like fire. "You don't get to say my name anymore! You destroyed me in front of everyone!"
Silence. Then: "I know. And I'm sorry. But if you don't listen to me right now, you're going to end up dead."
Kieran looks at me, waiting for my decision. His finger is on the trigger, ready to shoot through the door if I give the word. The power of that—having someone willing to kill for me—should horrify me. Instead, it makes me feel protected for the first time in months.
"Let him talk," I whisper. "But don't open the door."
Kieran nods and speaks loudly. "Say what you came to say, Holloway. Then leave before I put a bullet through this wood."
"Fair enough." Marcus sounds nervous, which gives me dark satisfaction. "Mira, do you know why Kieran was really hired to protect your mother eight years ago?"
"Because of Vincent Ashford," I say. "My biological father wanted us back."
"That's the story. But there's more." Marcus pauses. "Your mother didn't just hire random security. She hired Thorne Security specifically because they had a personal grudge against Vincent. Kieran's father and Vincent were partners in the same criminal organization. When Kieran's father tried to leave, Vincent had him killed. Made it look like suicide."
My eyes snap to Kieran. His face is stone, but I see truth there. This isn't news to him.
"So what?" I demand. "That gives him more reason to protect me from Vincent, not less!"
"Does it?" Marcus challenges. "Or does it mean Kieran is using you as bait to draw out the man who killed his father? Think about it, Mira. Why would a billionaire spend eight years obsessing over you? Writing creepy love notes? Watching your every move? Because he cares? Or because you're the perfect weapon to destroy his enemy?"
The words hit like knives. I look at Kieran, searching his face for denial. For proof that Marcus is lying.
"Tell him he's wrong," I whisper. "Tell me that's not true."
Kieran's jaw works. "It started that way," he admits quietly. "Eight years ago, when your mother hired me, I did see you as a way to get close to Vincent. To destroy him like he destroyed my family."
My heart cracks. "No."
"But that changed." Kieran turns to face me fully, lowering his gun. "The first time I saw you reading in your mother's bookstore, talking to the books like they were friends—something shifted. You weren't a weapon anymore. You were just... Mira. This brilliant, lonely, beautiful girl who deserved better than the hand life dealt her."
"Lies," Marcus says through the door. "He's manipulating you, Mira. Just like he manipulated your mother. Do you know how she really died?"
"Vincent killed her!" My voice breaks. "An assassin ran her off the road!"
"An assassin that Kieran was supposed to stop," Marcus counters. "Ask him. Ask him if he let your mother die on purpose to make you vulnerable. To make you need him."
"That's enough." Kieran's voice drops to something deadly. "You have five seconds to get off this property before I forget my promise to Mira and put you down like the dog you are."
"I'm leaving. But Mira—" Marcus's voice softens with fake concern that makes me sick. "Claire told me about the attic. About what your mother hid there. Whatever you find, don't give it to Kieran. He'll use it to start a war that will get you killed. There are people who can protect you better than him. People who won't use you as revenge bait."
Footsteps retreat. An engine starts. Headlights sweep across the cabin walls as Marcus drives away.
The silence that follows is suffocating.
"Is it true?" I ask. "Did you let my mother die?"
Kieran holsters his gun and runs both hands through his hair. For the first time since I met him, he looks... broken. "No. God, no. I tried everything to save her, Mira. I failed, but not because I wanted to. The guilt has eaten me alive for eight years."
"But you did use me as revenge bait at first."
"Yes." He doesn't insult me by denying it. "When your mother first hired me, I was twenty-four and angry. All I cared about was destroying Vincent. But then I met you, and everything I thought I knew about myself changed. You weren't a job anymore. You were the first thing in my life that felt pure."
"So you decided to stalk me for eight years instead?" Anger and hurt war in my chest. "That's supposed to make me feel better?"
"No. Nothing makes it better. I'm broken, Mira. I don't know how to love normally. I only know obsession and protection and watching from the shadows because that's all my father taught me before Vincent killed him." Kieran takes a step toward me. "But everything in those notes was real. Every word about seeing you, wanting you safe, needing you—all real."
I want to believe him. Some stupid part of me that's been lonely for so long wants to trust this dangerous man who fights for me and writes me love letters in book margins.
"How did Marcus find us?" I ask instead. "How did Vincent know where we were?"
"I don't know." Kieran pulls out his phone, scrolling through something. "This location is classified. Only James and two other people in my organization know about it. Unless..."
"Unless what?"
His face goes pale. "Unless someone in my company is working for Vincent." He looks up at me. "Mira, we need to leave. Right now. If there's a mole in Thorne Security, this cabin isn't safe. Nowhere I own is safe."
"Where do we go?"
"The one place Vincent would never think to look." Kieran starts grabbing supplies from a cabinet. "Your bookstore. The attic your mother told you never to enter."
"But that's the first place he'll search!"
"Exactly. Which is why it's the last place he'll expect you to hide." Kieran tosses me a jacket. "Whatever your mother hid in that attic is important enough that Vincent has spent eight years hunting for it. We need to find it first."
My phone buzzes. Another text from the unknown number:
"Did Marcus convince you to run from your protector? Good. Alone, you're easier to take. I'll be at your bookstore in one hour. Come meet your father, or I'll burn it down with everyone you love inside. Your choice, daughter."
Below the text is a photo.
Sophie. My best friend. Tied to a chair in what looks like the bookstore's back room. Tape over her mouth. Fear in her eyes.
"Oh God." My legs give out. "He has Sophie. Vincent has Sophie."
Kieran reads the text over my shoulder and goes deadly still. "It's a trap."
"I don't care! She's my only friend! The only person who stood by me after Marcus—" I can't finish. Sobs choke me. "We have to save her."
"We will." Kieran grips my shoulders. "But not by walking into Vincent's ambush. We do this smart."
"There's no time! He said one hour!"
"Then we have one hour to plan." Kieran is already texting James. "Vincent wants you emotional and scared. That's when people make mistakes. We're not going to give him that."
"How can you be so calm? He's going to kill her!"
"No." Kieran's ice-blue eyes lock onto mine with absolute certainty. "He's going to try to use her to control you. But Mira, you need to understand something about men like Vincent. They see people as objects. Tools. He won't kill Sophie until he has what he wants because she's only valuable as leverage."
"What if you're wrong?"
"I'm not." He cups my face with surprising gentleness. "I've been hunting men like Vincent my entire adult life. I know how they think. Trust me."
There's that word again. Trust. The same thing Marcus said Vincent would exploit.
But when I look into Kieran's eyes, I don't see manipulation. I see fury barely contained. And underneath that—fear. Real fear that something will happen to me.
"Okay," I whisper. "I trust you. What's the plan?"
Relief flashes across his face. "We go to the bookstore. But not through the front door."
"There's only one entrance."
"There's always another way in." A dangerous smile curves Kieran's mouth. "Your mother was paranoid for good reasons. I'm betting she built escape routes you don't know about. We find them, we get inside without Vincent seeing, and we rescue Sophie while his men are watching the wrong door."
"And then?"
"Then we get into that attic and find out what secret is worth killing for."
James's response lights up Kieran's phone: "On my way. 30 minutes. Don't do anything stupid without me."
"Too late," Kieran mutters. He looks at me. "Can you be brave for thirty more minutes?"
I think about Sophie, terrified and alone. About my mother, murdered for secrets she kept hidden. About every time I let fear stop me from fighting back.
"Yes," I say, and mean it. "I can be brave."
"Good." Kieran hands me a small gun. "Because we're about to walk into hell, and I need you ready to fight."
I take the weapon with shaking hands. Three months ago, I couldn't even fight back when Marcus humiliated me. Now I'm holding a gun, planning a rescue mission, trusting a man who stalked me.
My phone buzzes again.
Another text. But not from Vincent.
From Claire. My sister. The woman who stole my fiancé.
"Mira, I'm so sorry. I didn't know what Marcus was really doing. I didn't know about Vincent. Please, you have to believe me. Marcus isn't working alone. There's someone else. Someone close to Kieran. Someone you'd never suspect. Be careful who you trust. Even the people trying to save you might be the ones who—"
The message cuts off mid-sentence.
Then nothing. No more texts. Just silence.
"What is it?" Kieran asks.
I show him the incomplete message, my hands trembling. "Claire was trying to warn me about someone. Someone close to you."
Kieran's face hardens. "A mole. I was right."
"But who? Who would betray you?"
Before he can answer, his phone rings. James calling.
Kieran answers on speaker. "Talk to me."
But it's not James's voice that comes through.
It's Vincent's. Smooth and cold and satisfied.
"Hello, son-in-law. Thank you for having your brother lead me right to you. He's currently unconscious in my trunk, but don't worry—I'll keep him alive as long as you bring me what I want. One hour. The bookstore. Come alone with Mira, or I kill the girl and your brother. Oh, and Thorne? The mole in your organization? You've been working with him for six years. Sleep tight."
The call ends.
Kieran stares at his phone like it's a bomb.
"James," he whispers. "It can't be James."
But the horror in his eyes says he's not sure anymore.
And neither am I.