Chapter 4 - The Threat Within
The doctor arrived forty minutes later.
Dr. Vance was a poised, silver-haired woman in her fifties who arrived with a sleek portable ultrasound machine and a calm, reassuring demeanor. Cassian remained in the room, standing like a dark, silent sentinel by the window, his arms folded across his chest as the doctor applied the cool blue gel to my stomach.
"Well, Miss Wilton," Dr. Vance said, pressing the transducer against my abdomen. "Let's see how our little runner is doing."
The rhythmic, roaring sound of a rapid heartbeat filled the high-ceilinged bedroom. Thump-thump-thump-thump.
I let out a shaky breath, tears springing to my eyes instantly. Every time I heard that sound, the terror of my chaotic world faded into absolute clarity.
I glanced toward the window. Cassian had turned around completely. He was staring at the small, glowing monitor screen, his throat moving as he swallowed hard. The fearsome mob-linked billionaire looked completely captivated by the black-and-white image of our child moving on the screen.
"Heart rate is a healthy 152 beats per minute," Dr. Vance announced with a smile. "Growth matches twenty-two weeks precisely. It’s a strong, active baby. However, your stress markers are elevated, and your blood pressure is slightly higher than I’d like. You need rest, proper nutrition, and zero emotional shocks for the remainder of this pregnancy."
"She will have total quiet," Cassian promised, his voice low and firm.
"Good," Dr. Vance said, wiping the gel from my stomach and packing her equipment. "I’ll drop off specialized prenatal supplements tomorrow morning. Mr. Rowe, a word outside, please."
Cassian followed the doctor into the hallway, closing the heavy oak door behind him.
The moment I was alone, I sat up, pulling my janitorial smock back down over my bump. The exhaustion was setting in deep now, making my eyelids heavy. But beneath the tiredness, a cold knot of anxiety remained. I was trapped in a gilded cage. Cassian was protecting me, yes, but he was also a man accustomed to absolute control.
What happened when the baby was born? Would he let me stay? Or was I just the vessel carrying his heir?
A soft knock at the balcony doors startled me out of my thoughts.
I whipped my head around. The heavy crimson drapes were slightly parted. Through the rain-slicked glass of the balcony, I saw a tall silhouette standing outside in the dark storm.
My blood ran cold.
I stood up slowly, grabbing a heavy brass candleholder from the nightstand. "Cassian?" I called out, my voice trembling.
The balcony door clicked. It hadn't been deadbolted.
A man stepped into the warm bedroom, dripping rain onto the hardwood floor. He wore a dark security uniform identical to the guards patrolling the grounds, but his face was half-covered by a wet black gaiter.
"Don't scream, little maid," the man hissed, pulling a silenced pistol from his tactical vest. "Dimitri sends his regards to the Rowe family."
My breath hitched in my throat. The leak inside Cassian's organization wasn't just a informant—it was an assassin already inside the estate gates.
I didn't think. Instinct took over.
I threw the heavy brass candleholder with all my strength, striking the man directly in the side of his head. He grunted, stumbling backward against the glass door, his gun wavering.
"Cassian!" I shrieked at the top of my lungs.
The door to the hallway burst open with terrifying force.
Cassian moved faster than humanly possible. He crossed the room in a blur of black and white, slamming into the assassin before the man could raise his weapon. The sound of breaking glass and shattering wood echoed through the suite as Cassian tackled the intruder onto the wet balcony floor.
Gunfire crackled—a soft, suppressed pop-pop—followed by the brutal sound of hand-to-hand combat.
I backed into the corner of the bedroom, covering my belly with both arms, terrified.
Ten seconds later, the struggle stopped.
Cassian stepped back into the room through the shattered balcony doors. Rain drenched his white shirt, sticking it to his broad chest. His knuckles were bruised and bloody, and he was holding the assassin's silenced pistol in his hand. Lev and three armed guards rushed into the room behind him, taking control of the unconscious intruder on the balcony.
Cassian ignored the guards, ignored the blood on his hands, and walked straight toward me.
"Are you hurt?" he demanded, his hands framing my face, his gray eyes wild with a feral, terrifying panic. "Did he touch you, Clara?!"
"I'm... I'm okay," I sobbed, shaking uncontrollably against his chest. "I threw the candleholder..."
May you like
Cassian pulled me tightly into his arms, burying his face in the crook of my neck, his breath ragged against my skin.
"There is a mole in my inner circle," Cassian growled into my hair, his body vibrating with lethal intent. "And I am going to burn Chicago to the ground until I find them."
