Chapter 40

Kelvin's POV

The air was crisp, laced with the lingering chill of dawn as I slipped out of bed. I moved silently, my muscles fluid from years of training. The dim light filtering through the curtains barely touched her face, but I could see the rise and fall of her chest, steady and peaceful.

She was still fast asleep.

I let my gaze linger for a second longer than necessary before shaking myself out of it.

Focus.

I grabbed my running shoes, stepped into them with practiced ease, and quietly made my way outside.

The estate was eerily still, the kind of silence that only came before sunrise. The air smelled of damp earth and pine, the trees swaying gently in the breeze. I started my usual route, feet hitting the ground in a steady rhythm.

Running was my ritual, my way of keeping control.

But today, something felt… off.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.

I wasn’t alone.

I kept my pace, pretending not to notice the shadow slipping through the trees.

A mistake.

The attack came fast.

A flash of steel, silent, precise.

Instinct took over.

I twisted just in time, the blade grazing my shoulder instead of burying itself in my throat. Pain flared, but I didn’t have time to acknowledge it. I dropped low, sweeping my leg out in a vicious arc.

My attacker leapt back, barely avoiding the blow.

I got my first good look at him.

Black gear. Masked face. Military stance.

An assassin.

My lips curled.

Someone wanted me dead.

I straightened, blood dripping from my wound as I rolled my shoulders. The adrenaline surged, sharpening my senses.

“You should’ve aimed better,” I taunted.

He gave no response. Typical.

He lunged again, faster this time. I sidestepped, catching his wrist mid-swing. A sharp twist, a satisfying crack, he stumbled, the knife clattering to the ground.

But I knew he wasn’t done.

He struck out with his free hand, landing a solid punch to my ribs. Pain exploded through me, but I didn’t falter.

I returned the favor with a brutal elbow to his face.

He staggered, and I didn’t hesitate.

A quick, precise move, I had him on his knees, his own blade pressed to his throat.

His breath came in harsh pants.

“Who sent you?” I demanded.

His eyes, dark and cold, locked onto mine and he remained silent. I smirked. This was not the first time this has happened.

But before I could react, he bit down…hard.

Cyanide.

I cursed, shoving him away just as he collapsed, foam spilling from his lips.

Dead.

Damn it!

I wiped the blood from my brow, my mind already working.

I exhaled sharply, shaking off the tension that clung to my muscles. The assassin’s body lay still, his eyes frozen in that lifeless stare. Typical. Whoever sent him had ensured there’d be no loose ends.

I needed answers, but for now, I needed to clean up.

Wiping my blade on the grass, I shoved it back into its sheath and took one last glance around. No other threats. Not yet.

I turned and jogged back toward the house, ignoring the dull throb in my ribs. The wound on my shoulder was shallow, nothing I couldn’t handle.

By the time I slipped through the back entrance, the house was still quiet. Most of the staff wouldn’t be awake yet. Good.

I climbed the stairs two at a time, heading straight to my room. She was still asleep, curled up beneath the covers, her breathing even. The pillow barrier she’d built between us remained untouched.

I smirked.

Shaking my head, I grabbed fresh clothes and stepped into the bathroom.

The hot water stung as I rinsed the blood from my shoulder. I pressed my palm against the sink, watching my reflection.

Whoever sent that assassin wasn’t playing games.

And that meant I couldn’t afford to either.

After dressing in a black Henley and dark jeans, I pulled on my watch and ran a hand through my damp hair.

Time to deal with the day.

I made my way downstairs, following the scent of coffee and freshly baked bread.

Laura was already at the dining table, her hair slightly damp, a cup of coffee in one hand, and a fork in the other as she picked at her breakfast.

She looked up as I entered, her expression unreadable.

“Morning,” she muttered before taking a sip of her coffee.

I grabbed a cup for myself, settling into the seat across from her.

She arched a brow. “You look like hell.”

I huffed a quiet laugh. “You should see the other guy.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Kelvin…what other guy?”

I leaned back, swirling my coffee lazily. “I signed you up for fighting classes.”

She choked mid-sip. “You what?”

I tilted my head. “You heard me.”

Her brows furrowed. “Why the hell would you do that?”

I met her glare head-on, my tone firm. “Because if someone comes after you, I need to know you can handle yourself.”

Her fingers tightened around the cup, her jaw clenching. “I don’t need you making decisions for me.”

I leaned forward, holding her gaze. “This isn’t up for debate, sweetheart.”

She scowled. “I hate you.”

I smirked, taking a sip of my coffee. “You keep saying that.”

She huffed and stabbed her fork into her food with unnecessary force.

I hid my grin behind my cup.

Breakfast passed in tense silence. Laura kept stabbing at her food like it had personally offended her, while I sipped my coffee, unbothered. I expected her resistance. She was stubborn, one of the few people who dared challenge me without fear.

But this wasn’t up for negotiation. She needed to know how to fight.

I pushed back from the table and stood. “We’re leaving in ten.”

She glared at me. “Leaving for where?”

I grabbed the car keys from the counter. “Training.”

She scoffed, folding her arms. “I’m not going anywhere.”

I arched a brow. “You are.”

Her eyes narrowed in defiance, but I could see the hesitation flicker in them. She was testing how far she could push me.

I leaned down, close enough that she could feel my breath against her ear. “If I have to carry you out of here over my shoulder, I will.”

She sucked in a sharp breath, but I caught the pink tint on her cheeks before she turned away.

“Fine,” she gritted out, standing abruptly. “But I’m not going to enjoy it.”

I smirked. “We’ll see about that.”