The drive back to the London Manor was conducted in a suffocating, metallic silence. Keifer sat in the back of the Maybach, staring out at the blurred lights of the city, his jaw tight enough to snap. Beside him, Jay-jay was a statue of grief, her eyes fixed on her folded hands.
Every time her phone buzzed in her clutch, a physical jolt went through her body. That photo—the crosshairs on her father's chest—was burned into her eyelids.
"Get out," Keifer commanded as the car pulled into the underground garage of the Manor. His voice was like a whip. "We have the midnight briefing in the study."
Jay-jay stood up, but her legs felt like they were made of water. She followed him toward the private elevator, the gold-plated doors sliding open with a soft, mocking chime.
The elevator began its smooth, rapid ascent. In the confined, mirrored space, the air suddenly felt non-existent. Jay-jay looked at the floor, but the pattern of the carpet started to swirl.
One tear, and the trigger pulls itself.
The Grandfather's voice echoed in her head. She tried to breathe, but her lungs felt restricted by the high neck of her gown. Her heart was no longer beating; it was thundering, a frantic drum against her ribs that she was sure Keifer could hear.
"Jay-jay?"
Keifer's voice sounded far away, as if he were underwater.
"I told you to have the acquisition files ready by the time we reached the floor. Why aren't you—"
He turned to look at her and stopped mid-sentence.
Jay-jay's face was no longer pale; it was grey. Her eyes were wide, darting around the small space as if she were trapped in a cage. She began to claw at the collar of her dress, her gasps coming in short, ragged bursts.
"Jay? Jay-jay!"
The "Secretary" was gone. The "Ice Queen" had shattered.
Her knees buckled. The world tilted on its axis as her vision went black at the edges. She didn't hit the marble floor, though.
In a blur of charcoal wool and desperate strength, Keifer caught her. He dropped to his knees, pulling her small, shaking frame against his chest.
"Breathe, damn it! Jay-jay, look at me!" Keifer shouted, his "Cold King" mask falling away to reveal a man terrified for his life. "Breathe for me! What's wrong? Are you hurt?"
Jay-jay couldn't answer. She gripped the lapels of his suit, her knuckles white, her forehead pressed against his shoulder. She was shaking so violently that Keifer could feel her heart vibrating against his own.
"I... I can't..." she choked out, a single, hot tear finally escaping and soaking into his expensive blazer.
Keifer froze. The tear. The one thing he had been hunting for all night was now burning a hole in his heart. But it wasn't the "Victory" he thought it would be. Seeing her like this—broken, gasping, and terrified—felt like watching his own soul die.
"I've got you," Keifer whispered, his voice cracking as he wrapped both arms around her, rocking her slightly in the middle of the rising elevator. "I've got you, Mutya. I'm right here. No one is going to hurt you."
He didn't care about the "Betrayal" at the airport. In this moment, she wasn't a traitor or a secretary. She was his Jay-jay, and she was drowning.
The elevator reached the top floor. Chime. The doors slid open to reveal Vuk, the Grandfather's lead security, standing in the hallway with a clipboard. He looked down at the King holding the "disgraced" girl in his arms.
Keifer's head snapped up. His eyes, which had been filled with tenderness seconds ago, turned into twin pools of lethal ice.
"If you don't turn around and walk away in the next three seconds," Keifer hissed at Vuk, his voice a low, predatory snarl, "I will make sure your body is never found in the Thames. Leave. Now."
Vuk hesitated, then bowed and retreated into the shadows.
Keifer looked back down at Jay-jay. She was still gasping, but her eyes were starting to focus on his. He brushed a stray hair from her face, his thumb lingering on her damp cheek.
"What are you hiding, Jay-jay?" he whispered, his forehead leaning against hers. "What is so terrifying that it's killing you from the inside?"
Jay-jay wanted to tell him. The truth was on the tip of her tongue. But she remembered the crosshairs.
She pushed him away, slowly, her hands trembling as she smoothed her dress. The mask was trying to slide back into place, but it was cracked beyond repair.
"It was just... the heat," she lied, her voice a hollow shell. "I'm fine now, Mr. Watson. Let's get to the briefing."
She walked past him, leaving Keifer alone on the floor of the elevator, his hands still feeling the ghost of her shaking body
Keifer thought, his eyes narrowing. I'm going to tear this whole world apart until I find out who made you cry