Chapter 8 – Kaz
They tried to get to her.
In my house.
Through a bolted window.
While I was watching.
The thought alone is enough to make my blood boil.
“Search the entire perimeter,” I bark at Maxim as I head down the hallway, my hands fisting at my sides. “Every guard, every camera, every possible point of breach. I want answers now.”
Maxim is already on his earpiece, relaying the order to the others. He’s fast, efficient, and just as furious. “No one’s been spotted yet,” he tells me as he catches up. “But the window—someone had to know she’d be in that room.”
I stop walking.
That’s the part I can’t let go of.
They knew.
Whoever threw those daggers—whoever knocked—wasn’t just sending a message. They were aiming to hit her. Which means they knew where she was. What room. What window.
This wasn’t random.
“Someone gave her up,” I say tightly.
Maxim nods. “Someone on the inside.”
My jaw clenches. “I want the name of every man who’s ever had access to this wing of the house.”
“There’s one who comes to mind,” Maxim says after a beat. “Rakin. Ex-soldier. We let him go a week ago. You remember—he was bitter as hell about the dismissal.”
Of course, I remember.
Rakin always had a chip on his shoulder and a habit of running his mouth. I should’ve taken his tongue when I had the chance.
“Bring him in,” I snap. “Now. I want him here before nightfall.”
Maxim scoffs. “Nightfall? I already sent the dogs after him the moment the glass shattered.” He glances down at his phone, a grin twitching at the edge of his mouth. “They’ve got him. He’s being transported to one of the holding cells as we speak.”
Good.
Maxim straightens. “I’ll make sure he talks. Properly.”
I smirk. “No. I’ll handle the torturing myself.”
Maxim arches a brow, like he’s not surprised in the least. He knows me too well. I’ve been itching to get my hands on someone, and Rakin just volunteered himself. Perfect timing.
“What about the girl?” Maxim asks as we turn the corner. His voice drops a notch—more cautious now. “Violet.”
Right. Violet. My jaw tightens at the thought of her—curled up in that room with broken glass at her feet and fear in her eyes.
“Call Milo,” I say. “Tell him to move her to the south wing safe room. No windows. No exits. I want two guards on the door, cameras watching every angle, and full lockdown until I return.”
Maxim nods without hesitation.
“Then you and Arina meet me in the garage.”
I don’t wait for a reply. I storm down the hallway, fists clenched, blood boiling, fury simmering just beneath the surface of my skin.
Whoever tried to get to Violet is going to wish they had never drawn breath. Tonight, Rakin bleeds. And if there’s anyone else who’s betrayed me? They bleed too.
Moments later, we’re speeding down the road.
Maxim’s driving like the engine owes him something, chewing through lanes with his jaw clenched and eyes locked on the horizon. Arina’s up front in the passenger seat, one leg tucked under the other, scrolling through something on their tablet. Neither of them speaks.
They know I’m not in the mood for words.
I sit in the backseat, arms stretched out along the leather, the weight of my rage heavy enough to crush the roof. I stare out the window, but I’m not really seeing the streets blur by. I’m thinking about her.
Violet.
The glass exploding. Her scream. The panic in her eyes when I rushed into the room. I can still hear it. Feel it.
She could have been killed tonight.
That thought alone has my fingers twitching for a weapon. My tongue tastes like ash. I should’ve moved her to the safe room earlier. Should’ve never let her out of my sight. But I did. I got soft. Distracted.
And now someone thinks they can touch what’s mine.
No. Not “what.” Who. Violet.
I clench my jaw so hard it cracks in my ears.
This isn’t just about a leak. This isn’t just about a loose end. This is about someone getting too close. And now, someone’s going to pay the kind of price only I know how to extract.
We pull into the facility a few miles outside the city—a warehouse with reinforced steel doors and no neighbors for miles. Maxim parks, cuts the engine. We step out into the dry night air.
A soldier greets us at the entrance. He bows in my direction, nods at Maxim and Arina. “He’s in Cell B. Already strapped.”
Maxim leads the way, and the moment we walk through the corridor, I can feel the shift in the air. The tension. The fear. They know I’m not here for diplomacy.
Rakin is in the chair when we walk in. His head jerks up at the sound of our boots, and for a second, his face twists into something smug. Like he doesn’t realize what’s coming.
That changes the moment I step forward.
His eyes go wide. “Boss—Kaz—please—”
I hold up a hand, and silence falls like a guillotine. “You don’t speak unless I ask you to.”
I walk around him slowly, like a lion circling prey. “You know what the problem is with traitors, Rakin?” I ask, keeping my voice cool. “They never know when to shut the fuck up…and they never understand the consequences until it’s too late.”
He gulps, throat bobbing. Blood already lines his mouth, but that’s not enough. Not nearly enough.
Maxim stays by the door, arms crossed. Arina leans against the far wall, watching me with a calculating gaze. No smirks now. No jokes. They know what this means.
I stop in front of Rakin.
“She was in that room,” I say. “She could’ve died.”
“Boss, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I slam my fist into his face, the crack of bone loud in the room. His chair rocks back, and blood splatters the floor. Rakin groans. “I swear to you, Kaz—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I tilt my head.
He really wants to play this game?
“You don’t?” I ask, voice like ice. “You expect me to believe that someone attacked my estate, and it just happened to be a coincidence? That it had nothing to do with you? With how bitter you were when you were let go a month ago?”
He’s trembling now, his fingers twitching in the restraints like they’re trying to claw their way out of this lie. “I was bitter because you let me go after serving you for years!”
I arch a brow. “You were let go because you ran your damn mouth one too many times.”
“But I was loyal.”
“You were loud,” I say evenly. “And I don’t tolerate liabilities.”
He shifts forward, the chains pulling taut. “I didn’t betray you.”
“But you were angry.”
“I was disappointed,” he spits. “I wanted to remain in your employment. I gave ten years of my life to this crew. I earned more than a brush-off and silence.”
“You should be grateful I didn’t kill you,” I snap. “You are the only ex-operative bitter enough, loud enough, and stupid enough to do this.”
His face twists. “I didn’t lay a hand on her.”
“Doesn’t matter,” I snap. “You knew about her. You knew she was in the estate. And only a handful of people knew that. So if it wasn’t you with the blade, then you ran your mouth again. And someone else took aim.”
Rakin’s silence is telling.
Arina exhales sharply behind me, but says nothing.
“You either acted,” I continue, “or you gave someone the ammunition to do it. Either way, you endangered my asset. And you know how I feel about that.”
“I didn’t think anyone would actually do it,” Rakin mutters. “I was venting. Drinking. Talking shit, yeah. But I didn’t hand out coordinates or blueprints.”
“Then give me names,” I say. “Everyone who heard you talk. Every face in that bar. Every contact on your burner. Because someone took what you said and made a move.”
Rakin doesn’t speak. His eyes lower. Guilt settles in his shoulders. As I think of a way to torture the truth out of him, a sharp bolt of dread pierces through my chest.
What if this was the plan? What if Rakin was used to draw me out of the house while Violet is left all alone in the estate?
Lure me out. Leave her vulnerable.
Fuck.
She’s alone. Even with Milo and guards, she’s alone. Trapped in a house filled with shadows and secrets and enemies I haven’t rooted out.
I don’t even realize I’m barking orders until I’m halfway to the door.
“Arina—take over.”
They straighten from where they’re perched. “Boss—?”
“If he gives you names, fine. If he doesn’t—” I glance back, eyes burning into Rakin. “Kill him.”
“No, no—wait—KAZ!” Rakin screams as I stride out, his chair scraping violently against the concrete. “I’ll talk! I swear—I’ll give you names! Please—!”
But I’m already gone.
I slam the door behind me and dial Milo before I even reach the car.
“Keep the house on full lockdown,” I snap as soon as he picks up. “And don’t let her out of your sight. I’m on my way.”
Because if they’re coming for her again—I won’t make the mistake of not being there.
Not twice.
I’m yanking the car door open when I hear boots behind me.
“Hey.”
I don’t turn. I know that voice.
Maxim steps up beside me, his jaw set, his eyes scanning mine with that same unnerving precision he’s always had. “You’re slipping.”
I grip the wheel, knuckles whitening. “Not now, Max.”
“No,” he says sharply. “Now. Because it’s already too late for ‘not now.’”
I finally look at him.
“You didn’t even finish with Rakin,” he says, voice lower now, more controlled. “You stormed out like a man with something to lose.”
His words hang in the air.
“You care about her.” His tone isn’t mocking—it’s worse. It’s honest. “And it’s showing. Everyone’s seeing it. Your men. Your enemies. Hell, even she probably sees it.”
My jaw tightens.
“You’re the boss, Kaz,” Maxim says quietly. “Act like it.”
I stare at him for a long second. I should say something—push back, bark a command, deny it. But I don’t. Instead, I get in the car and slam the door shut. The engine roars to life, and I drive off without a word.
Because he’s right.
And I hate that he is.
I want to call Adrian and seek advice, but I’m too proud to. He’ll mock me, which is well-deserved because I mocked him, too, when he became entangled with Jennie.
Now I know how it feels. Damn these women and how they sneak up on you.
I drive like a madman.