His allies knew the price to pay for defying him.
But, standing in that closet, surrounded by expensive suits that exuded an air of power and danger, Vincent realized something terrifying.
The safest place in their world had become the most vulnerable.
Elena kept her hand firmly over her mouth.
His dark eyes fixed on hers with an intensity that pierced the darkness.
She was not simply a housekeeper who cleaned her marble floors and polished her glassware.
She was that woman who had remained invisible in her house for three years, moving through the rooms like a ghost, listening to conversations that could overthrow governments, observing meetings that decided who lived and who disappeared.
Through the crack in the closet door, Vincent watched the shadows moving on his bedroom wall.
Several figures.
They advanced with determination, rummaging through their personal belongings with the assurance of those who believe they have all the time in the world.
A shadow froze near her bedside table.
Another headed towards his private safe, hidden behind the oil portrait of his grandfather.
Elena tightened her embrace.
His murmur was barely a sigh.
