Chapter 5 Sterling
Sterling
So this is what torture feels like.
I should know. I’ve inflicted it more times than I care to count. I’ve become familiar with the snap of bone, the drag of breath too shallow to scream, and the moment a man realizes there’s still more to lose. Pain is a science. Breaking someone is an art.
And yet nothing I’ve done compares to this. Watching him. My own damn brother, Stanley, sitting so close to Elle. My Elle.
I’ve been trailing her since last night. Since Clo stripped Elle of her clothes and dressed her like a doll while she slept. I felt the fury ignite in my chest then—hot and useless—because I couldn’t touch her. Couldn’t stop it. Not without blowing what little cover I still have.
Clo’s empire is still too intact. She’s too strong. And I can’t bring it all down until I’m ready to burn everything with her in it.
So I didn’t sleep. I stood guard in a dark corner of Elle’s room, watching her chest rise and fall, memorizing the rhythm of her breath. I followed her when she walked the grounds with Kayla. When she sat in the sunroom with Clo and Stanley.
I haven’t taken my eyes off her since the moment I saw her. But now, I’m stuck watching this nightmare.
I scowl so hard, it hurts. My eyes trace over Elle’s beautiful features. But then my glare goes to the way Stanley’s leaning in and smiling at her. I hate that he gets to be close. That he gets to speak her name while I’m still keeping hers in my chest like a secret.
Elle. I didn’t even get to learn her name from her own lips. And here he is, grinning like he’s already won her.
I dig my fingers into the brick wall beside me to keep from storming into that bakery and tearing the smile off his face. Because she’s not his. When she’s mine. Only mine.
I press my fingers hard against the rough brick, keeping to the shadows. Close enough to watch her, far enough that she won’t see me. Even though that’s all I want—for Elle to look at me again.
I can’t stop staring at her right now. But I should be working out how to take her back, how to get close enough to touch her again, to feel her against me. But all I can do is watch. Her face. Her mouth. Those eyes.
She’s laughing at something Stanley said. The sound’s inaudible from here, but I can see her smile reaching her eyes. It’s like seeing something rare. It makes my chest ache.
Watching her smile at Stanley and letting him in, it’s unbearable. It twists something inside me, something I don’t understand.
My heartbeat’s usually steady, even with death in my hands. But my heart’s been anything but steady since I chased her into Clo’s arms. And now, into Stanley’s. Fuck.
I know what kind of man Stanley is. Charming, effortless. He doesn’t have to try. He doesn’t have to take. He makes you give. That’s what’s worse. And Elle… She’s too unguarded around him. Letting him get too close.
I breathe out slowly, trying to calm the fire roaring inside me. I could walk in there now. A word, a look. That’s all it’d take to remind her. To pull her back to where she belongs. With me.
But not yet.
I turn on my heel, every step away from them heavy.
I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to let that image of them together be the last thing in my mind. But if I stay…
I shove my hands into my pockets, killing that thought. Instead, I focus on the rhythm of my shoes against the pavement, trying to drown out the phantom echoes of her laughter.
I deserve this. The torment. The ache. The jealousy. I know that. I put her in this position. But knowing doesn’t make it easier.
Inhaling sharply, I try to steady myself.
I need to think. I need to be smart. Stanley’s a problem, but he’s not the problem.
The real danger is Clo. She’s the reason I left home.
The reason I ran, carved my way into a life of blood and survival.
I knew whatever she was planning would only end in destruction.
And I was sick and tired of it. So I ran and took the first job I could without her corrupt connections.
For years, I’ve harnessed my skills to kill and got even better at being invisible.
But I went back. Just for a day. Back to that cursed estate. And now I know about Elle, who smiles sweet and speaks soft. Even when Clo’s wrapping her in silk meant to strangle.
I should’ve known. I did know. And still, I walked Elle right into it.
Now I’m stuck watching, silent and complicit, as Clo spins her web.
I see it tightening. And I swear, I won’t let it close around Elle, even if I have to burn the whole thing down to stop it.
But I have to figure out how to free her soon, or else I’ll lose Elle again before I even have the chance to claim her back.
The thought claws at me as I reach my car and slide in.
It’s my Aston Martin Valkyrie. Dark, lethal, built for precision, mirroring me.
I drag my hand along the carbon fiber hood, every line whispering control I don’t completely have yet.
But the faint scent of burnt rubber and black leather fills my lungs, helping me focus.
I earned this machine. Every damn inch of it. Paid for with blood on my hands, with choices I’ve made, a life most men wouldn’t survive. But as my hands tighten on the wheel, my mind drifts to her. To the way Elle looked at me when she saw the bodies, half-buried in the vineyard.
My fingers wrap around the wheel, the leather groaning under the pressure. That damn feeling I can’t shake from last night rises again. I’ve seen fear before. I know what it looks like. But with Elle, it wasn’t just fear. It was something worse. Disgust. Horror.
A sharp exhale leaves my lips as I slam the key into the ignition, the Valkyrie roaring to life. The sound rumbles through my chest, but it doesn’t drown out the dread dragging me down.
I don’t regret a lot of what I’ve done. But now, the weight of my past presses harder than it should. Because of Elle. Because I made an irrevocable mistake, just like years ago when—
No, there’s no time to waste. I grit my teeth, pressing the gas pedal, letting the growl of the engine rip through the roads, away from this place full of money-hungry, hollow snobs. I don’t belong in their world. Neither does Elle.
The car surges forward, but it still isn’t fast enough to outrun the fire in my chest or the truth clawing its way through me. I don’t know what to call what’s happening inside me. I’ve never had to name this kind of ache. But it’s not going away.
Fuck. I don’t have the luxury of falling apart. I’ve got to make a move. And I have to make it now, before I lose her for good.
I don’t drive toward my safe house. Not yet. Not when there are answers to find and a whole estate without my two-faced family in it.
Stanley, for all his theatrics, can handle himself. And if he’s keeping Elle distracted, dragging her through one over-the-top location after another, I can live with that for now, and let him play babysitter.
Clo’s the real problem. And Elle being caught in her web like this… It doesn’t add up.
Stylist. That’s the title Clo gave her. A lie sold to everyone else, except me. Kayla, Damon, Stanley—they don’t see the way Elle hesitates at the simplest questions, the way she looks at things like she’s grasping for something that isn’t there.
But I see it. Something’s off with her memory.
Things don’t add up in her conversations, in every flicker of her hesitation, and every threadbare smile.
I replay them all, again and again, until the pattern shows itself.
I’ve seen this before in the field, in the underworld, and in men who’ve had their pasts scrambled, who walk through familiar places like strangers.
But Elle’s not like them. She’s just someone who got pulled too deep into my family’s bullshit. Now she’s buried so far inside Clo’s lies. I don’t know how to get her out without tearing her apart in the process.
My fingers tighten around the steering wheel as I pull into the shadows of the estate, far away from the driveway up front.
I kill the engine and step out, the ocean air biting at my skin.
My thoughts are razor-sharp focused. If Clo’s done something to Elle—if she’s tangled her up in a way I can’t imagine—I need to know.
Once I park somewhere undetectable, I walk toward the ivory mansion.
I know this place like the back of my hand.
I know all the passageways. They’re the ones my father built, and the ones only he and I know.
So through the secret passages, I head toward Clo’s study.
She’ll have files there, listing connections and resources.
I have ways of finding things out, ways of peeling back the layers of deception that Clo loves to weave. I’ve done it before. I’ll do it again.
I move through the estate like a shadow, sticking to the darker corridors where no one lingers. The servants don’t notice me. They never have. I learned how to be invisible in this house long before I ever learned how to kill with stealth.
Survival demanded it. Clo always had eyes on me, waiting for a moment of weakness, a misstep she could twist to her advantage. She was always watching, always scheming. I learned to slip through the cracks before she could completely trap me.
I’m better at it now. Stealth is second nature. Years as a mercenary sharpened what was already there, honing my instincts into a lethal level.
A sound echoes from the main hall. I know based on timing that it’s Damon’s butler making his rounds. I press against the wall, waiting. His footsteps fade, and I move again, silent and quick, deeper into the heart of the estate.
Clo’s study is ahead. I slow as I approach, scanning for any changes.
If I know her, she hasn’t bothered to change much. She underestimates people too easily. Especially me.