Chapter 4 - THE BREACH AT THE GATE
The air in the study dropped ten degrees.
Clara felt the blood drain entirely from her face, leaving her skin chalk-white. Her hands began to shake uncontrollably, and the room spun slightly around her.
Grant.
How had he found her? She had used cash for everything. She hadn't used her social security number since boarding the bus in Phoenix. She had changed her phone number, deleted all her social media accounts, and buried herself in the most isolated wing of a heavily guarded mafia estate. Yet, somehow, like a relentless predator picking up a scent in the wind, he had tracked her down.
"He's here," Clara whispered, her voice barely a breath of air. Panic clawed at her throat, suffocating her. "Oh God, he found me. If he gets inside, he'll—he'll kill me, or drag me back, and—"
"Clara."
Matteo's voice cut through her rising hysteria like a razor-sharp blade. It wasn't loud, but it carried an absolute, anchor-like gravity that forced her eyes back up to his face.
She looked at him and saw no panic, no hesitation—only a cold, terrifying fury that seemed to darken the very air around him.
"He is on my property," Matteo said softly, each word measured and lethal. "No one enters this estate without my explicit permission. And no one takes anyone from my house."
Matteo turned to Leo, his eyes flashing with dark fire. "How many men did he bring?"
"Just himself, Boss," Leo reported crisply, adjusting his jacket. "He drove a rental sedan right up to the electronic gates, started screaming at the intercom that his runaway wife was hiding inside, and tried to climb over the spiked iron railing. Security tackled him before he made it over. He's currently pinned to the hood of his car by two of our guards."
A bitter, humorless smile touched the corner of Matteo's mouth. "Brave. Or profoundly stupid. Bring him inside."
May you like
"Inside, sir?" Leo raised an eyebrow, surprised. "Usually we dump trespassers in the river or hand them over to the local precinct."
"No," Matteo said, his gaze shifting back to Clara, who was trembling violently in her chair. "This one deserves a proper reception. Bring him into the receiving parlor. And bring Clara with us. It is time she learned that the ghosts of her past have no power here unless she grants them permission."
