CHAPTER TEN

A dull ache throbbed in my head as I blinked my eyes open, groggily taking in my surroundings. I was lying on a familiar couch, the rich aroma of brewing coffee filling the air. The intricately carved pillar in the corner of the room, along with the centerpiece on the gleaming glass table, told me everything I needed to know about where I was.

I lifted a hand to my head, trying to recall yesterday’s event. Fragments of memory came back—the press conference, the ambush, the deafening crack of gunfire—and then nothing. The rest was a blank. Memories of how I'd gotten here, who brought me back, and what exactly had happened during the ambush were all lost to me.

Sharp pain flared in my temple as I pushed myself upright. I leaned back into the couch, easing into a seated position, and closed my eyes. My mind felt hazy, as if crucial details were trapped just out of reach. I could remember the moment the first gunshot had shattered the quiet evening—the way it sent our driver spiraling and brought the car to a screeching halt. After that, though, everything dissolved into fog. I clenched my fist, frustration shimmering beneath my headache.

The sounds of footsteps pulled me from my thoughts. They came from behind, measured and deliberate. I didn't dare turn, knowing any sudden movement would only worsen the pain in my head.

“You’re awake,” a deep, unfamiliar voice said, smooth and resonant.

I groaned faintly, a wordless acknowledgement of his presence—and a silent explanation that I couldn't turn to face him. He must have understood because the footsteps moved closer, stopping just in front of me.

When I opened my eyes, I found myself staring at a man who seemed more polished than human. His gray suit was perfectly tailored, and a matching coat was draped effortlessly across his shoulders. A charcoal-black fedora, encircled by a silver-toned band, rested atop his head, its wide brim casting a shadow over his sharp features. A pipe hung casually from the corner of his mouth, and his hands were tucked neatly into his pockets as his piercing eyes appraised me, as though weighing my worth.

“You must be Klaus Windsor.” I rasped, my voice hoarse but steady.

“And you must be Eugene Osborn, the guard I hired to protect my son.”

My heart leapt to my throat. Undercover, I reminded myself, forcing my face to remain calm. With a quick nod, I answered, “Nice to meet you sir,” keeping my tone low and even.

“I heard about the ambush,” he continued, his words clipped and precise. “Thank you for putting your life on the line for my son.”

I had no idea what he was talking about, but I didn't let the confusion show on my face. Instead, I forced myself to sit up straight, the ache in my head now a dull throb. “Just doing my job, sir.” I said.

He nodded, pulling the pipe from his mouth and exhaling a stream of smoke. “About your job—I'd like to make you an offer.”

I straightened slightly, the tension in my chest easing when I realized I was still wearing the clothes from the day before. My disguise was intact.

“I'm willing to double—triple even—your payment if you agree to be my son's personal bodyguard for an entire month.”

I coughed as surprise and a jolt of excitement shot through me. Before I could respond, he gestured with the pipe held between his fingers, cutting me off.

“But only if you agree to my terms and conditions, “ he continued, pausing for my reply.

I met his gaze and nodded. “Go on,”

“At the end of each week, you'll meet with one of my men at a location of your choosing and report my son's whereabouts to me,” he said, returning the pipe to his lips.

Silence stretched between us, and it took me a moment to realize he was waiting for my answer.

“That's it?” I asked cautiously.

He chuckled. “For now, yes.”

I gave him a skeptical look. The offer was tempting, but Marcus had warned me to be careful around men like Klaus Windsor. I could see why. Klaus radiated a friendly, enigmatic charm, but beneath it was an undeniable authority—a man who wasn't used to hearing the word no.

I ran a hand through my dreadlocks—a subtle check to ensure my disguise was secure—and furrowed my brow, pretending to weigh my options.

“I'm honored you think my skills are worthy of protecting your son again, but the contract was only for a day. I'll need some time to inform the academy about your offer.”

“No,” he said sharply, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. His calm, commanding gaze bored into me, making it impossible to look away. “This arrangement stays between us. No one—not even the academy—is to know about this new development. That is, of course, if you agree.”

I fought to keep my expression neutral, though questions swirled in my mind.Why keep this a secret? “What about Reid? He's bound to find out.”

“Leave my son to me,” he said firmly. “Focus on your job. Once you agree, I'll handle informing the academy that I've retained your services.” Turning away, he added. “Cherry will bring you breakfast. Make yourself at home. And one more thing—” he paused, his back still to me. “Under no circumstances are you to tell my son about our arrangement. Cross me, and you'll regret the day you took this job.”

I opened my mouth to object, but he silenced me with a glance.

“Take all the time you need. I'll know when you've made your decision.” With that, he disappeared up the stairs, his footsteps echoing on the tiled floor.

I stayed seated, his words ringing in my ears. The house felt colder, more foreboding now. I had planned to check on Reid, but knowing he was safe would have to be enough. I needed to leave before I got pulled deeper into this.

Rising from the couch, I headed for the door, ignoring my growling stomach. Breakfast could wait. Locking the door behind me, I stepped into the crisp air outside. My car was parked in front of the mansion, a small refuge from the suffocating tension I'd left behind.

As I reached for my keys, something clinked against the pavement. I looked down to see a ring lying at my feet. Bending to pick it up, I froze. My breath caught as I traced the familiar carving of a bird etched into its golden surface. I couldn't place exactly where I'd seen it before, but I knew it was tied to my childhood—to the people who had visited my father.

I turned back to the mansion, its towering silhouette now more menacing than ever. Someone had planted this in my jacket. Someone knew who I truly was.

And whoever it was, I intended to find out.