The Scout (Dominion Hall #1)

Chapter 1

1

ISABEL

I should have known better than to step outside alone.

Dominion Hall wasn’t the kind of place where you wandered without someone noticing. The estate sat on the edge of Charleston’s historic district, a sprawling testament to wealth and power carved out of the Lowcountry landscape. It wasn’t old money, not like the mansions along the Battery, but the men who owned it carried the same weight—the kind that turned heads and kept doors open long after business hours.

I wasn’t supposed to be here. Not really.

The only reason I had an invitation was because of Will. My brother didn’t live at Dominion Hall, but he often worked with the seven men who did. Tonight’s gathering was part business, part celebration—something about a new contract their company had just landed. Will insisted I come, called it an opportunity to “network,” but the second I walked through the wrought-iron gates, I knew I didn’t belong.

As I stepped onto the stone pathway, a melody lodged itself in my mind—“Castle on the Hill” by Ed Sheeran. The nostalgic, wistful notes felt too on-the-nose for a place like this, where the weight of success seemed to echo through every gleaming surface. The song’s refrain looped in my head, blending with the murmur of voices drifting from the house, making me feel like I was walking through someone else’s story. Someone bigger, more important.

Still, I lasted an hour. Long enough to smile politely through conversations I didn’t understand and accept drinks I barely touched.

Now I was on the back patio, trading polite company for the quiet hum of cicadas and the salt-heavy breeze drifting in from the marsh. The garden stretched out below, manicured hedges forming labyrinths of green under the soft glow of gas lanterns. Beyond them, Charleston’s skyline flickered against the inky sky, distant but ever-present.

I placed my glass on the stone ledge and leaned against the railing, hoping the cool night air might unravel the tightness coiling in my chest.

The sensation of being watched hadn’t left me.

I couldn’t explain it, but the weight of unseen eyes lingered, skimming over my skin in a way that felt more personal than paranoia. It wasn’t Will or any of the men I’d shaken hands with inside. This felt different. Heavier.

It was probably nothing. Maybe Will’s habit of warning me about “watching my surroundings” had finally sunk in after all these years. He’d always said Charleston wasn’t as safe as it looked in the brochures.

Don’t tell that to my guests at The Palmetto Rose hotel.

I’ll admit, I’m not exactly a tough girl when it comes to self defense. I probably should have taken one of those jiu jitsu classes Will has been nagging me about.

But it’s fine. Well, it’s been fine, anyway. Other than a few catcalls in dark alleys and the occasional handsy drunk guy at bars, no one has bothered me. Yet.

“You shouldn’t be out here alone.”

The voice emerged from the dark, low and even.

I stiffened before turning around.

Ryker Dane.

I didn’t have to see him to know it was him.

He was part of Will’s circle—the silent one who lingered in the background at every event, barely speaking unless necessary. The men at Dominion Hall all carried a certain air, but Ryker? He carried it like a loaded weapon, cold and sharp beneath the surface.

He stepped forward, leaning casually against one of the patio columns, arms crossed over his chest. The soft light from the lanterns barely touched his face, but I caught the outline of his sharp jaw and the set of his shoulders.

“Needed some air,” I said, hoping the breeze would hide the fact that my pulse had kicked up.

Ryker didn’t respond right away. His gaze stayed on me, unreadable.

“Will wouldn’t like you being out here alone,” he finally said.

I tipped my head slightly. “You always take orders from my brother?”

A flicker of something crossed his eyes—amusement, maybe, but gone before I could be sure.

“I don’t take orders from anyone,” he said. “But I keep people from making mistakes.”

My grip tightened on the railing, even as I forced a calm exterior. “And you think I’m making one? ”

His gaze flicked past me, out toward the hedge-lined path that disappeared into the dark beyond the garden.

“You never know who’s watching.”

I swallowed, suddenly aware of how isolated the patio felt. The party inside was a wall of glass away, but standing out here under his scrutiny made it feel farther.

Returning inside would have been the logical choice.

Yet, I didn’t move.

Maybe it was curiosity—or maybe it was the way he stood between me and the dark like he had no intention of letting anything past him.

Ryker Dane was exactly the kind of man I avoided. A former special ops soldier turned billionaire contractor, the antithesis of everything I believed in. The men I dated were soft-spoken, humanitarian types who worked in clean offices and donated to global relief funds.

Ryker built weapons. Ryker played with warlords. Ryker ran in darkness where I preferred to dance in the light.

And yet, standing there with him watching me like I was the only thing worth paying attention to, I couldn’t ignore the pull.

“Relax,” I said, brushing my hair over one shoulder. “I can handle myself.”

His eyes narrowed, just enough to remind me of the stories Will told—the ones about how Ryker never let anyone walk away from a fight if they started it.

“I know,” he said quietly.

Something in his voice made the air between us shift.

I wasn’t sure if it was a warning or an invitation.

Either way, I didn’t look away.

And neither did he.

Ryker finally stepped out of the shadow of the column, his figure illuminated by the soft, golden light of the lanterns. He wore a tailored black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showcasing the sinewy strength of his forearms. Dark jeans sat low on his hips, the casual cut contrasting with the sharpness of his presence. Every movement he made was deliberate, as if the world existed to accommodate him.

I had to force myself to breathe normally. The sheer presence of him—six feet four inches of lean muscle and unapologetic authority—was enough to make anyone feel small. His hair was dark and perfectly cut, but it was his eyes that held me hostage: icy and unwavering, like he was dissecting every word I hadn’t said yet.

And there I was, in my deep purple cocktail dress that felt too tight around the chest and too short at the hem under his gaze. The strappy heels I’d borrowed from my roommate weren’t doing much for my balance either, especially not now that my knees felt like they might give out. I tugged at the hem of my dress instinctively, though it didn’t stop his eyes from flickering downward for the briefest of seconds. When they returned to mine, there was a glint there, dangerous and magnetic.

“Will’s my best friend,” Ryker said, his tone calm but unrelenting, like a challenge. “He’d never forgive me if something happened to you.”

“And you’re here to make sure that doesn’t happen?” I arched an eyebrow, a slight edge of defiance in my voice, though I wasn’t sure who I was trying to convince—him or myself.

“Something like that,” he murmured, his voice low enough to send a shiver down my spine.

I let my fingers trace the rim of my empty glass, trying to find a distraction. “Will’s a little overprotective. I’m not his problem anymore.”

“You’re not,” Ryker agreed, and for a moment I thought he’d stop there. Then his gaze locked on mine, sharper this time. “You’re mine.”

The words hung between us, heavy and unshakable.

A flicker of heat rose up my neck, but I refused to let it show. “Bold of you to assume I need protection.”

“It’s not about what you need,” Ryker said, stepping closer. “It’s about what I can’t ignore.”

The distance between us shrank to an arm’s length. His voice was still calm, but the undercurrent of intensity was impossible to miss. His proximity should have been suffocating, but instead, it was electrifying. I felt more alive standing in front of him than I had all night.

“You really think I’m in danger?” I asked, my voice quieter now, the sarcasm I’d clung to slipping away.

Ryker’s gaze shifted past me again, scanning the hedge-lined garden as though there was something—or someone—he expected to emerge from the shadows. His jaw tightened briefly before he looked back at me.

“Always.”

I swallowed hard. There was a conviction in his voice that made it hard to dismiss him. Whatever he saw, whatever he carried with him, it wasn’t hypothetical. It was real, and it weighed on him.

For the first time, I considered that maybe Will’s stories about Ryker weren’t exaggerations. This was a man who’d seen too much, done too much, and lived to bear the consequences.

I wanted to ask what he was thinking, but the words stayed lodged in my throat. Maybe it was better that way, because there was something in his eyes I wasn’t sure I wanted to understand .

Before I could summon the courage to respond, my phone buzzed in my clutch, a sharp vibration against my palm that startled me. I broke eye contact with Ryker to glance at the screen. Will’s name lit up the display.

“I need to take this,” I mumbled, though my voice felt smaller under Ryker’s steady gaze. He didn’t respond, just nodded once, stepping back slightly as I turned away.

“Hey, Will,” I answered, moving a few strands of long, dark hair and pressing the phone to my ear.

“Isabel, listen, something came up at work, and I had to duck out early,” Will’s voice was hurried, like he was already halfway out the door. Typical. “I didn’t want to interrupt you at the party, but can you drive home by yourself?”

Will’s office was at Dominion Hall, tucked into a corner of the sprawling estate like everything else about his job—important, but discreet. Lately, he’d been cryptic about an upcoming assignment, dropping hints about “being needed on-site” and “preparing for a long haul.” Knowing Will, it meant he was about to disappear for a year, leaving me with a vague explanation and a promise to call.

I froze, my pulse spiking. “You left? Will, I don’t even know these people.”

“You’ll be fine,” he assured me, completely oblivious—or maybe uncaring—about the tightening knot in my chest. “Ryker’s got you covered. Trust me, you couldn’t be in safer hands.”

Safer hands. The phrase didn’t sit right, not with the way Ryker was standing behind me, so still, so steady, like he already knew how this would play out.

“Will, I—” I started to protest, but the line clicked dead before I could finish. I pulled the phone away and stared at the screen, dumbfounded.

I let out an exasperated breath, gripping my phone like I could will it to reconnect. What exactly did Will think I was going to do? Have a wild orgy in one of Dominion Hall’s gilded rooms? Get tangled up in some illicit billionaire scandal? Please. The most reckless thing I’d done all night was accept a second drink and attempt to make small talk with men who looked like they walked straight out of a Wall Street power meeting.

I wasn’t that kind of girl—never had been. My dating history was pathetic at best, non-existent at worst, a series of forgettable safe choices and awkward goodnight hugs. And now, here I was, alone at a party full of men who probably had private islands while my overprotective big brother was bailing on me.

“Problem?” Ryker’s voice came from behind me, low and calm as ever.

I turned back toward him, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. “Will bailed.”

His brow lifted, the faintest flicker of amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Sounds like Will.”

“He said you’d look out for me,” I added, my voice sharper this time, as if daring him to refuse. “It’s not like I need that. I have a personal alarm in my clutch.”

Ryker tilted his head, studying me like he could see right through the thin veil of composure I was clinging to. “You’re asking me to look out for you?”

“No,” I shot back instinctively, my cheeks flushing. “I mean—yes. I mean—” I cut myself off, biting my lip. He was enjoying this far too much. “I have to be at work early tomorrow morning for a staff meeting, then I’m pulling a double to cover for a coworker who’s out on her honeymoon. I really need some sleep if I expect to make it through the day. I had better get going.”

“Relax,” he said, his voice smoother now, almost teasing. “I’ll walk you out. Whenever you’re ready.”

I hesitated, unsure if I should trust the calmness in his tone. “Fine,” I said finally, crossing my arms in a weak attempt at defiance. “Let’s go.”

He nodded once, stepping aside to gesture toward the path that led back to the house. “After you.”

I brushed past him, doing my best to ignore the heat of his presence as we walked. But the silence that stretched between us wasn’t the comfortable kind. It buzzed with tension.

Inside, the party was still going strong. The murmur of voices and clinking glasses spilled out from the dining room, but I kept my eyes forward, pretending I didn’t notice the few curious glances sent my way. Dominion Hall wasn’t my world, and I had no intention of lingering longer than necessary.

As we moved deeper into the house, my gaze caught on something in the far corner of the foyer. A massive glass enclosure, dimly lit from above, sat against the wall like a museum display. But what was inside wasn’t an artifact—it was alive.

A sleek, black viper coiled lazily around a sculpted tree branch, its scales catching the light like polished onyx. Its body moved in slow, deliberate waves, muscles rippling as it adjusted its position. Even from a distance, the sight of it sent a shiver up my spine.

“What the hell is that?” I whispered, stopping in my tracks.

Ryker barely glanced at it. “Obsidian.”

“Obsidian?” My voice pitched slightly higher than I intended .

“Our snake.”

I turned to him, expecting some kind of joke, but his face remained impassive. “You have a snake? Like … a pet?”

“Not a pet,” he corrected. “A reminder.”

A reminder of what? I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. The way he said it—low, matter-of-fact—sent something uneasy skittering through me.

The viper’s head lifted slightly, its tongue flicking out like it could sense my hesitation.

I swallowed. “You just keep it in the house? At a party?”

Ryker’s mouth twitched. “People respect things they fear.”

I wasn’t sure if he was talking about the snake or the men who owned this house. Probably both.

I dragged my gaze away from Obsidian, but the weight of it stayed with me, slithering under my skin like an itch I couldn’t scratch. The thing was a symbol—power, control, danger wrapped in sleek black scales. It belonged to all of them, a shared piece of whatever history they refused to speak about. I’d never been afraid of snakes before, but this one?

“Wow,” I mumbled under my breath.

As we passed the grand staircase in the center of the foyer, a sound filtered down from somewhere upstairs. At first, it was faint—muffled, rhythmic—but then it grew louder, unmistakable. Moaning. A low, drawn-out gasp, followed by a sharper cry that made my steps falter.

My cheeks burned as I glanced toward the stairs, then quickly at Ryker. He didn’t so much as blink. His expression remained neutral, his focus fixed on the front door like nothing out of the ordinary was happening .

“Do you … hear that?” I asked, unable to stop myself.

“Ignore it,” he said flatly, his voice steady, like this sort of thing happened every day. Maybe it did.

I pressed my lips together, unsure whether to laugh or sink into the floor. Dominion Hall wasn’t just out of my league—it was an entirely different planet. Of course, someone was having sex upstairs during a party. Of course, no one cared.

Ryker’s pace didn’t slow as we crossed the marble-floored foyer, and I hurried to keep up, my heels clicking against the polished floor. The air felt cooler when we finally stepped outside again, the sound of the party fading behind us.

I looked away, suddenly feeling like I was in over my head.