10. AMAI
AMAI
Istood in the hallway outside the living room, phone in hand, cycling through every camera feed with the methodical precision of a man who understood that security wasn’t about paranoia—it was about preparation.
The lakehouse had sixteen cameras. I’d installed them myself three years ago when I bought the property.
Not because I needed a safe house—I had several of those—but because I needed a place where I could disappear if everything went to hell.
A place where I could see threats coming from every angle.
Now it was serving a different purpose.
I pulled up Camera 1: the front gate. The feed showed the long gravel driveway cutting through dense cypress and oak, Spanish moss hanging like curtains from the branches.
The gate was closed, locked, the chain wrapped tight.
Motion sensors active. Anyone who approached within fifty feet would trigger an alert on my phone.
Camera 2: the back patio where Truth and I had sat hours ago. Empty now. The chairs still positioned where we’d left them. The lake beyond stretched out dark and still, reflecting the early morning sky. No movement. No boats. No witnesses.
Camera 3: the east side of the property. Trees, underbrush, the narrow walking trail that led deeper into the woods. I’d walked that trail a hundred times. I knew every turn, every landmark, every place where someone could hide. The camera angle covered the first thirty yards. Clear.
Camera 4: the west side. More trees, thicker coverage, the property line marked by a rusted fence that hadn’t been maintained in decades. The camera caught the fence and the clearing beyond. Nothing moved except the wind through the leaves.
I cycled through Cameras 5 through 12—perimeter coverage, overlapping fields of vision, blind spots eliminated through careful placement and angle adjustment. Every feed showed exactly what I expected: stillness, isolation, security.
Camera 13: the living room.
I paused on that one.
Truth was still asleep on the bear rug, her body curled on her side, one hand tucked under her cheek.
The fireplace had burned down to embers, the light softer now, less dramatic.
She looked small in that space. Vulnerable.
The robe had slipped open slightly, exposing the curve of her hip, the swell of her belly.
I watched her breathe. In and out. Steady. Peaceful.
She had no idea what I was about to do. No idea that the man who’d just made love to her—who’d whispered promises and bound their souls together—was about to walk out that door and become something else entirely.
Something she couldn’t see.
Something she didn’t need to see.
I moved to Camera 14: the kitchen. Empty. The counters clean, the refrigerator stocked with the healthy shit Priest had brought. Bottled water, fresh fruit, organic vegetables. I’d need to pick up the snacks I’d promised her. Something to make the lie believable when I came back.
Camera 15: the master bedroom upstairs. Unused. The bed still made, the curtains drawn. I’d planned to take her there eventually, but the fireplace had been closer, more immediate. The rug had been softer than I expected. Her skin had been softer than I imagined.
Camera 16: the driveway again, different angle. Backup coverage in case Camera 1 failed. Redundancy was survival.
I closed the camera app and opened the security system controls.
The lakehouse was wired with more than just cameras.
Motion sensors on every door and window.
Pressure plates on the front and back steps.
Glass-break detectors in case someone tried to come through a window instead of a door.
Infrared beams along the tree line that would trigger if anything larger than a deer crossed the perimeter.
I activated all of it.
The system beeped softly, confirming each sensor was online.
Green lights across the board. I set the alerts to priority—any breach would send an immediate notification to my phone with a live feed of the triggered camera.
I’d know within seconds if someone approached.
I’d know within seconds if she was in danger.
I walked through the house one more time, checking locks manually, even though the system had already confirmed they were secure. The front door: deadbolt engaged, chain in place. The back door: same. The side door leading to the utility room: locked from the inside, key in my pocket.
Every window latched. Every entry point sealed.
I moved back to the living room and stood in the doorway, watching Truth sleep. The fire had nearly died, just a faint glow now, but I didn’t add more wood. She’d be fine. The house was insulated, the temperature controlled. She wouldn’t get cold.
I thought about waking her. Telling her I was leaving. But that would require explanations I wasn’t ready to give. Questions I couldn’t answer without lying more than I already planned to.
Better to let her sleep. Better to let her wake up in a few hours, warm and safe, with no idea where I’d been or what I’d done.
I pulled the throw blanket from the back of the couch and draped it over her carefully, making sure it covered her shoulders and legs. She stirred slightly but didn’t wake. Her breathing stayed steady, her face relaxed.
I crouched beside her for a moment, studying the curve of her jaw, the fullness of her lips, the way her lashes rested against her cheeks. She looked peaceful. Untouched by the violence that was about to unfold because of her.
Because of me, I corrected.
This wasn’t her fault. None of this was her fault. She’d been a surrogate. A contract. A transaction that should have been clean and simple.
But Kaisen had touched her. Violated her. Put his hands on what was mine before I’d even known it was mine.
And now he was going to pay for that.
I stood and checked my phone one more time. All cameras green. All sensors active. Perimeter secure.
I sent a quick text to Priest.
Leaving the lake house. Keep your phone on. If anything triggers, you move.
His response came within seconds: Got it. She’s covered.
A different kind of sinister had been unleashed the moment I went inside her. The moment I felt her surrender completely. She wasn’t just a contract anymore. She wasn’t just the mother of my child.
She was family.
And family was protected at any cost.
I thought about what I was about to do to Kaisen. What I was about to do to anyone who looked at her wrong, who thought they had a claim on her, who believed they could violate what was mine.
The ruthlessness didn’t feel cold anymore. It felt necessary. Righteous.
I pocketed my phone and grabbed my keys from the kitchen counter. My gun was already in the car—a Glock 19, suppressor in the glove box, extra magazine in the center console. I wouldn’t need it for Kaisen. What I had planned for him didn’t require bullets.
It required time. Isolation. The kind of suffering that couldn’t be ended with a trigger pull.
I walked to the front door and paused with my hand on the knob, looking back toward the living room one last time. I couldn’t see her from this angle, but I knew she was there. Sleeping. Safe. Depending on me to keep her that way.
“I got you,” I murmured.
I thought about the man I’d been an hour ago—the man who’d kissed her slowly, who’d worshiped her body, who’d promised her she wasn’t alone. That man had been real. Genuine. As close to human as I’d been in years.
But that man was a luxury I could only afford when the perimeter was secure. When the threats were neutralized. When the people who thought they could take what was mine understood the cost of that mistake.
Right now, I needed to be something else.
I opened the door and stepped out into the humid Louisiana morning. The air was thick, heavy with moisture and the smell of the lake. The sun was just starting to rise, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange that would’ve been beautiful if I’d cared about beauty.
I didn’t.
I cared about control. About consequences. About making sure Kaisen—and anyone else watching—understood that Truth Renois was off-limits. Untouchable. Protected by a man who didn’t have limits when it came to protecting what was his.
I locked the door behind me and tested the handle twice. Secure.
I walked to my car—a black Audi A8, clean lines, tinted windows, nothing flashy but everything necessary. I slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine, letting it idle for a moment while I pulled up the camera feeds one more time.
Truth was still asleep. Still safe. Still mine.
I was ready to remind my brother—and anyone else who needed reminding—that some things weren’t negotiable.
Some things were worth burning the world down for.
Truth was one of them.
I put the phone in the cupholder, shifted into drive, and pulled away from the lakehouse.
The gravel crunched under the tires. The gate opened automatically as I approached, then closed behind me with a solid clang that echoed through the trees.
I glanced in the rearview mirror, watching the lakehouse disappear behind the curtain of moss and branches.
She’d be fine.
And when I came back, she’d never know where I’d been.
She’d never know what I’d done to keep her safe.
That was the gift I was giving her—the illusion that the man who made love to her was the only man I was capable of being.
But the truth was darker than that.
The truth was, I’d bury my own brother alive if it meant she stayed untouched. I’d become the monster my father always wanted me to be—not for him, not for legacy, not for power.
For her.
And that made me more dangerous than I’d ever been.
I turned onto the main road, heading back toward New Orleans, my mind already shifting gears.
Priest had sent me the hospital location hours ago.
Kaisen was in a room on the third floor, recovering from the stabbing I’d given him.
Limited security because Winston didn’t give a fuck about his sons outside of what they could do for him.
That worked in my favor.