Nova's POV
I'm not yours, I snap at Caspian, anger cutting through my fear. I'm not anyone's. I don't even know you.
You know me. His voice is deep, smooth like expensive whiskey. You've wondered about me for eight months. The ghost in the penthouse.
He's right, and I hate that he's right.
But standing this close to him for the first time, I realize the distant glimpses I caught before didn't prepare me for the reality of Caspian Mercer.
He's... beautiful. Dangerously so.
Tall enough that I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. Those winter-storm eyes—pale gray-blue that seem to see straight through me. Sharp jawline. Dark hair that looks like he's run his hands through it too many times. And his body...
Stop it, Nova. He's a stalker. Focus.
But my traitorous heart is already beating faster, and it's not just from fear.
They're calling for backup, Caspian says, turning to his wall of computer screens.
I force myself to look at the monitors instead of him. The three men from before are in their black SUV, making urgent phone calls. One gestures wildly.
My security system bought us maybe forty-five minutes, Caspian continues, typing rapidly. An hour if we're lucky.
Then we call the police
No. He turns back to me, and the movement brings him closer. Too close. I catch his scent—something clean and dark, like cedar and winter nights. Think, Nova. You're a woman accused of corporate espionage. Julian Harrington is a billionaire CEO. Who do you think they'll believe?
The truth hits like ice water.
So I just hide here? My voice cracks. Hope they give up?
They won't give up. His eyes lock onto mine with an intensity that makes my breath catch. But yes. You stay here. The only place in this building they can't reach you.
I look around his penthouse for the first time, trying to focus on anything except how aware I am of him standing so close.
Computer equipment everywhere. Monitors showing camera feeds. Weapons on the walls. Everything black and cold and deadly.
Like him.
Except... he doesn't feel cold right now. He feels like fire burning just beneath ice.
You said this is the fourth attempt on my life, I say, wrapping my arms around myself. What were the others?
Something flickers across his face. Almost like... reluctance?
You don't want to know.
Yes, I do. I step closer before I can stop myself. If you've really been protecting me, prove it.
His jaw clenches. For a long moment, he just stares at me. Then he moves to his computer, and I catch myself watching the way he moves—predatory grace, controlled power.
What is wrong with you? The man has been spying on you!
June third, he says quietly, pulling up a file. You went to Three Bean Coffee Shop. 7:15 AM.
I freeze. My morning routine. He knows it.
A man sat next to you. Late thirties. Suit. He bumped your table, apologized. Caspian pulls up security footage. He switched your cups.
I watch the screen. See myself talking to the friendly businessman. His hand moving so smoothly I never noticed.
Ricin in your tea, Caspian says. Enough to kill you within hours.
My stomach drops.
I was tracking him. Knew his plan. Caspian zooms in. A tall figure in black crashes into me, sending both cups flying. I ruined both drinks. You cursed at me for being clumsy.
The memory surfaces. I was so angry at the rude stranger.
He saved my life, and I yelled at him.
The second attempt? My voice barely works.
July eighteenth. You rented a car for a Connecticut interview. Silver Honda Civic. His fingers fly across the keyboard. Someone hacked the rental company's system before I did. Tampered with the brake lines.
Horror floods through me.
I canceled your reservation. You would have died on I-95. His voice drops lower. Brakes failing at seventy miles per hour.
I sink onto his couch before my legs give out.
And the third?
Caspian moves closer. Crouches down so we're eye level. The proximity makes my pulse spike.
August twenty-second. Lexington Avenue subway platform. Rush hour. His eyes search mine. A man positioned himself behind you. Waited for the train. He was going to push you onto the tracks.
I can't breathe.
I pulled the emergency stop. His hand reaches out, hovering near my knee but not quite touching. Train halted fifty feet away. Everyone complained about the delay.
You saved me. The words come out as a whisper. Three times.
Four, counting tonight.
We stare at each other. His hand is so close to my leg I can feel the warmth radiating from it. One inch closer and he'd be touching me.
Part of me wants him to.
No. No, no, no. He's been watching you. This is wrong.
Why didn't you tell me? I ask.
Would you have believed a stranger? His lips quirk in something almost like a smile. It transforms his face, making him look younger. Less dangerous. More... human. You would have thought I was crazy.
He's right. I would have.
Why do you care? I force myself to meet his intense gaze. You don't know me.
The almost-smile vanishes. Something dark and painful crosses his face.
Three years ago, my sister was murdered. His voice goes flat. Empty. Aria. She was twenty-two. Corporate hitmen killed her to get to me.
My heart clenches.
I was too late to save her. His hands curl into fists. Too focused on building my empire to see the threat. She died because I failed.
I'm sorry, I whisper.
Don't be. His eyes meet mine again, and the intensity in them steals my breath. I destroyed everyone involved. Then I came here. Built this. Swore I'd never fail to protect someone again.
So you chose me?
Yes. No hesitation. He leans closer, and I catch his scent again—that intoxicating mix of cedar and darkness. Because I investigated you and saw someone betrayed. Hunted. Surviving alone.
His hand finally makes contact—fingers wrapping gently around my wrist. The touch sends electricity racing up my arm.
I saw myself, he says quietly. And I decided you would not die like Aria did.
My pulse hammers where his fingers rest against my skin. Can he feel it?
I decided you were mine to protect, he continues, thumb brushing over my racing pulse. Mine to defend. Mine to keep safe.
That's not normal, I manage.
No. His eyes drop to where his hand circles my wrist. It's obsession.
The honesty should terrify me. Instead, heat pools low in my stomach.
But my obsession kept you alive, he says, looking up through dark lashes.
We're so close now. Close enough that I can see flecks of silver in his gray eyes. Close enough to feel his breath.
This is insane. I should pull away. Should be scared.
But I'm not.
What do you want from me? I whisper.
His eyes darken. Everything.
The word hangs between us, loaded with meaning that has nothing to do with protection.
Then his computer erupts with alarms.
Caspian's on his feet instantly, releasing my wrist. The loss of contact feels wrong.
He moves to his screens, and I watch the shift—predator awakening.
What is it? I stand on shaky legs.
They're back. His voice goes cold again. Fifteen men this time. Military weapons.
Fear crashes back through the attraction. Can you stop them?
I'm activating full lockdown. His fingers fly across keyboards. But they brought breaching equipment. Thermal cutters. Explosives.
My blood runs cold. How long?
He turns, and something in his expression makes my heart stop.
Two hours. Maybe less.
Then we run—
They have the building surrounded. He's already pulling weapons from his safe. We're trapped.
Panic claws at my throat. So we fight?
I fight. He loads a gun with practiced efficiency. You stay in my safe room—
No. I don't know where the courage comes from. I'm not hiding while you—
Nova. He crosses the room in three strides, suddenly right in front of me. His hands frame my face, forcing me to look at him. Listen to me very carefully.
His touch sends fire across my skin despite the terror flooding through me.
When this starts, you do exactly what I say, he says, eyes blazing. No questions. No arguments. Your survival depends on trusting me completely.
I should argue. Should insist I can help. But trapped in his intense gaze, his hands warm against my cheeks, my body betraying me with awareness even now—
Okay, I breathe.
Something flashes in his eyes. Surprise? Relief?
His thumb brushes my cheekbone. Good girl.
The words shouldn't affect me. They do.
Then every light in the building dies.
Total darkness.
I gasp. Caspian's arms wrap around me instantly, pulling me against his chest. Solid. Warm. Safe.
Red emergency lighting kicks in, bathing everything in blood-colored shadows.
On his screens, men in tactical gear flood into the building lobby. Moving with military precision.
Caspian, I whisper against his chest, his heart pounding beneath my cheek. Are we going to die?
His arms tighten around me.
Not if I kill them first.
But there's something he's not telling me. I feel it in the tension of his body.
He pulls back, hands still gripping my shoulders.
Nova, there's something you need to know.
Dread coils in my stomach. What?
His jaw clenches. Julian didn't just hire random killers. He made a deal with a Russian syndicate. Dmitri Volkov's organization.
The name makes me go cold.
Volkov wants something from Julian. Something worth two billion dollars. Caspian's eyes bore into mine. Your AI algorithm. The one Julian stole.
Understanding crashes over me like a wave.
Julian's selling my code to criminals.
Yes. And you're the only person who can prove he stole it. The only witness who can destroy the deal. His grip tightens. That's why they'll never stop, Nova. You're not just a loose end.
I'm a two-billion-dollar problem, I finish numbly.
Yes.
On the monitors, the tactical team reaches the third floor. Moving faster than expected.
Caspian's expression darkens. Someone on that team knows what they're doing. They're adapting to my security.
How long until they reach us?
Ninety minutes. He releases me, returning to his computers. Maybe less.
I watch him work—efficient, deadly, terrifyingly competent. And despite everything, despite the danger and the fear and the insanity of this situation...
I've never felt safer than I do right now.
Which is absolutely crazy.
His computer erupts with new alerts.
Caspian goes perfectly still.
What? I move closer.
He's pulling up street-level cameras. More vehicles arriving. A truck. Men unloading equipment.
So many men.
How many? I whisper.
Thirty. His voice is hollow. This isn't a kill team anymore.
Then what is it?
He turns to face me, and for the first time, I see fear in his eyes.
Real fear.
This is an execution squad. Volkov himself authorized this. His hands clench. He's not taking chances.
Can you— My voice breaks. Can you stop thirty men?
For a moment, he doesn't answer. Just looks at me with an expression that makes my heart crack.
I can try.
Not confidence. Just grim determination.
He crosses to me, and before I can react, his hand cups my jaw. Gentle despite the calluses.
But if this goes wrong— He stops, jaw working.
Don't, I whisper.
If this goes wrong, he continues, I need you to know something.
His thumb strokes my cheek. The tenderness of it breaks something inside me.
I've watched you for eight months. Seen your strength. Your brilliance. The way you refuse to stay broken. His eyes search mine. I've been alone for three years, Nova. Cold. Dead inside. And then you moved in below me, and—
His computer explodes with noise.
Every screen goes black.
Then they flicker back on.
But the feeds are different.
A face fills the main monitor. A man. Late fifties. Cold eyes. Expensive suit.
Mr. Mercer, he says in a heavy Russian accent. I know you can hear me.
Caspian's entire body goes rigid. Volkov.
Give me the girl, and you live. Refuse, and you both die. Volkov's smile is terrifying. You have five minutes.
The screen goes black.
I stare at Caspian, horror flooding through me.
He hacked your system.
Just communications. But his typing is frantic. Showing off.
He pulls up one final camera feed. One I haven't seen before.
My apartment.
Someone's inside. A woman. Going through my things. The angle shifts, showing her face.
My heart stops.
The woman helping them hunt me, wearing an FBI jacket
Is my sister.
Sienna.