Chapter 10
CHAPTER 10
T horn moved silently along the darkened hallway, her Glock ready at her side. The only sound was the soft hum of the air conditioning as she approached the sliding glass door leading to the pool area. The automated security light had flicked off again, suggesting that someone might be lurking just out of sight. After the false alarm with the vase, she was back on high alert, her instincts razor-sharp.
She eased the door open, allowing the cool night air to rush in, carrying with it the faint scent of chlorine and freshly cut grass. The gentle breeze stirred the surface of the pool, which shimmered under the soft underwater lights. Everything appeared serene, but her gut told her something was off. The quiet seemed too perfect, too staged, as if the night itself were holding its breath.
Stepping outside, she scanned the area, her eyes adjusting to the dim light. The shadows seemed deeper tonight, the darkness almost palpable. Thorn advanced cautiously, her senses heightened. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled—a sixth sense warning her that she wasn’t alone.
As she neared the edge of the pool, a rustling noise to her right made her spin around, weapon raised, her heartbeat quickening.
Before she could react, a dark figure lunged at her from the shadows, catching her off guard. The impact knocked her off balance, sending her sprawling to the ground. Her Glock skidded across the slick tiles, disappearing with a soft splash into the pool.
Shit!
Her attacker was light, agile, and definitely a woman. Thorn’s mind raced as she grappled with her, trying to assess the situation. This wasn’t a professional hit—the woman’s movements were too frenzied, too untrained. But she was strong, driven by a wild, almost feral energy.
They struggled on the ground, rolling over the damp grass. Thorn felt sharp nails rake across her neck, drawing blood, and she gritted her teeth against the pain. Who was this woman? An obsessed fan? Her mind flashed to the worst-case scenarios as she fought to regain control.
“Who are you?” the woman spat, her voice thick with venom. “What are you really doing here?” Her nails slashed out again, this time aiming for Thorn’s face.
Thorn ducked, barely avoiding the swipe. What the hell was going on? Her training kicked in as she twisted her body, using her legs to throw the woman off balance. They rolled again, and Thorn managed to land a solid punch to the woman’s ribs, eliciting a sharp grunt. But instead of slowing down, the woman seemed to grow more enraged, her attacks becoming even more wild and erratic.
Thorn was losing patience. This was turning into a catfight, and she wasn’t about to be dragged down to that level. She needed to end this now, before things got even more out of hand.
With a surge of strength, Thorn threw the woman off her and scrambled to her feet, muscles coiled and ready. Her opponent was up just as quickly, circling Thorn with a predatory gleam in her eyes. Thorn wiped a trickle of blood from her neck, feeling the sting of the scratches.
“I could ask you the same question,” Thorn shot back, her voice steady despite the adrenaline pumping through her veins.
The woman lunged again, but this time Thorn was ready. She sidestepped the attack, allowing the woman to stumble past her before grabbing her by the arm and twisting it behind her back. The woman cried out, but Thorn wasn’t in the mood for sympathy.
Seriously, who was this crazy woman? Was she just some unhinged fan, fixated on Damian? Thorn knew Damian had his share of admirers, women who loved the bad-boy-turned-billionaire image. But this was different. This woman wasn’t just infatuated—she was dangerous.
The woman swung around wildly, trying to land a hit, but Thorn easily blocked her with a firm push to the shoulder, sending her staggering backward. Thorn didn’t waste any time. She followed up with a controlled sweep to the legs, knocking the woman to the ground.
Enough was enough.
Thorn pounced, pinning the woman down with a knee to her chest. The woman struggled beneath her, but Thorn’s strength and training easily overpowered her. She straddled the woman, pressing her down into the damp grass. The woman’s chest heaved with exertion—or was it fury?—as she glared up at Thorn through the slits in her balaclava.
“Take off the hood,” Thorn demanded, her voice icy and unyielding. Her breathing was controlled, steady—unlike her attacker, who was clearly spent.
The woman glared at her, defiance burning in her molten brown eyes. When she didn’t move, Thorn reached down and yanked the hood off herself, ready for anything.
A tumble of wild blonde hair spilled out, framing a furious, familiar face.
Thorn’s breath caught in her throat.
“Christine?”
The shock rippled through her like a tidal wave, almost knocking the breath from her lungs. Damian’s personal assistant, the woman who had quit just days ago, was the last person Thorn expected to see under that hood.
Christine’s face twisted with rage and something else—betrayal. “You think you can just waltz into his life and take what’s mine?” she hissed, her voice laced with bitterness.
Thorn’s mind raced, trying to piece together what the hell was going on. “What are you talking about?” she demanded, though a part of her already knew. Christine wasn’t just angry—she was jealous, unhinged.
“Damian was mine!” Christine spat, her eyes wild. “He was supposed to marry me, not some... bodyguard.”
Thorn’s heart pounded in her chest as the pieces clicked into place. Christine’s jealousy had driven her to this, to attack the very person she saw as her replacement. Thorn stared down at her, seeing the fury in Christine’s eyes and her gut twisted.
But she wasn’t going to get sentimental.
With a swift, decisive move, she tightened her grip, holding Christine immobile. “You’re making a mistake, Christine,” she said, her voice even, but not unsympathetic. “This isn’t the way.”
But Christine was too far gone to listen. Before Thorn could react, Christine bucked wildly beneath her, her fingers clawing at Thorn’s arms, scratching deep. Thorn hissed in pain but held firm, refusing to let go. She needed to keep control, to stop this from spiraling further out of control.
With a final, powerful shove, Thorn forced Christine’s hands down, pinning them to the ground. “Enough!” she growled, her voice carrying an authority that left no room for argument.
Christine froze, her chest heaving as she glared up at Thorn, her eyes filled with rage and something else—desperation. “I saw you,” Christine whispered, her voice trembling with the effort to hold back tears.
Thorn frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“The kiss,” Christine said, her voice breaking. “Through the window. I saw it all.” The bitterness in her voice cut through the night air, sharp and raw.
Thorn’s heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t realized anyone was watching. “Christine, I?—”
But Christine wasn’t listening. The fight drained out of her, replaced by a deep, soul-crushing sorrow. She stopped struggling, her body going limp beneath Thorn’s weight. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” she sobbed, the anger in her eyes replaced by tears. “I wasn’t supposed to lose him.”
Thorn hesitated, then slowly eased off her, still wary but softened by the raw pain she saw in Christine’s face. For all her fury and misguided actions, this woman was hurting deeply, mourning the loss of something she could never get back.
Christine’s sobs came harder, her shoulders shaking as she crumpled to the ground, the weight of her grief too much to bear. “I loved him,” she whispered, her voice ragged. “I still love him.”
Thorn knelt beside her, placing a hand on her back, trying to offer some small comfort. She wasn’t used to this, to comforting an enemy, but in that moment, Christine didn’t feel like one. “I know,” Thorn murmured, the lie catching in her throat. “I know you do.”
Christine looked up at Thorn, her tear-filled eyes searching for something, some glimmer of hope, some chance that it wasn’t true. “You married him,” she choked out, the words filled with disbelief and anguish. “How could you?”
Thorn's heart ached, but she forced herself to stay composed. This was the hardest part of the job—lying, pretending to be someone she wasn’t, even when it tore at her insides. “It happened quickly,” she said, keeping her voice soft. “We… we reconnected, and things just… fell into place.”
Christine’s sobs intensified, the reality of the situation crashing down on her. “I can’t believe it,” she whispered, shaking her head. “I never thought he’d move on so fast… not after everything.”
Thorn swallowed the lump in her throat, her heart twisting with guilt. She couldn’t tell Christine the truth, not now, not ever. “I’m sorry,” she said, the words hollow, but all she could offer.
For a long moment, they stayed there, Christine weeping quietly into her hands, Thorn kneeling beside her, not saying anything more. There was nothing to say that would make this right.
Finally, Christine’s sobs began to subside, her body exhausted from the emotional storm. She wiped her tear-streaked face, her eyes red and puffy. “I didn’t mean to…” She trailed off, her voice weak and spent.
“It’s okay,” Thorn said softly, helping her to her feet. “Let’s get you inside.”
Christine didn’t resist as Thorn led her toward the house, her steps slow and heavy, the fight completely gone from her. Thorn stayed close, keeping a firm but gentle hold on her arm, guiding her through the door.