Chapter 27
Ellie
I couldn't tear my eyes from the door Sabine had disappeared through. No footsteps echoed on the stairs. Maybe she'd gone to the solarium. She'd been disappearing there with her books lately, curled up under that huge monstera like it could shield her from everything.
My chest felt hollow. We should have protected Mark somehow. But he wasn't even our client. Not our responsibility. Still—
Cam's warm fingers found my chin, tilting my face up to meet her eyes. They were steady, certain, everything I wasn't feeling.
"She'll be okay," Cam said. "She just needs time."
I wanted to believe her. God, I wanted to. But time wouldn't erase what happened. Time wouldn't bring Mark back from whatever the Bellantes had done to him. Time wouldn't wash away the betrayal Sabine felt.
I nodded anyway. What else could I do?
"We need to figure out what Mark knew." Kara's voice pulled me back to the problem at hand.
Kara's voice went flat, all emotion tucked away behind her professional mask. "So if they tortured Mark... why? What did he know?"
Alex tensed beside me. "Did you tell him where—"
"I told him nothing," Kara cut her off. "He knew we were going to pick up her belongings at her condo, then taking her to a secure location."
Cam leaned forward, elbow on her knee. "Where did he get our contact info in the first place?"
Kara rubbed her temple. "From Leo in Philly. Alex's suggestion." She glanced at Alex, who stared back impassively. "I called him, told him I was looking for new contracts, asked him to let me know if he heard of anything in this neck of the woods. When Mark reached out, Leo gave him our number."
"Which number?" Alex pressed, her voice tight.
"Company number." Kara's jaw clenched. "Tracks back to the company, not my name."
My stomach dropped as the pieces clicked together. "But Mark knew our names."
The words fell into silence. No one moved. I watched their faces as they processed what I'd said. Cam's eyes narrowed. Kara's lips pressed into a thin line, which told me everything about how bad this was.
If Mark had our full names and the Bellantes made him talk—which they would have—they could trace us back to the company. They could connect Kara and me to Alex. They could unravel everything we'd built.
I thought of Sabine, already shattered by Mark's death. She didn't know yet that his death might be just the beginning.
Kara's knuckles whitened around her mug. "He did have our names. Can't convince a man to let you take custody of his prized reporter without letting him see some ID. What was I supposed to do about that?" She waited, then added, "Doesn't matter... your people don't have our names, right Alex?"
Alex stood by the window, her silhouette sharp against the darkness outside. She didn't turn around. Didn't even seem to hear the question.
"Right, Alex?" Kara's voice could have cut glass.
Alex flinched, turning back to us. "What?"
Kara's jaw tightened. I could practically hear her teeth grinding. "Does anyone on your end have our names?"
"No." Alex shook her head. "Matteo said I needed security after Mamma was killed.
I said I knew a group who could do it. He said get their info over to David.
" She paused, then clarified, "The family accountant.
I gave David the company name and contact info off the business card. He didn't ask for more."
Kara exhaled slowly. "So we should be safe then."
"Unless the Bellantes look up the company and see whose names are attached to it," Cam said, her voice flat. "All of our names."
Alex scoffed, waving a manicured hand. "I don't think Lorenzo is doing much googling these days, Cam."
Something cold slithered down my spine. There it was again. That dismissiveness. Just like in the kitchen when she'd brushed off concerns about the cameras. Alex didn’t take the threat seriously. Her blind spot wasn't just big when it came to her family; it was catastrophic.
"But he's not the only member of your family, Alex," I said, trying to keep my voice level.
She leaned back against the window frame, arms crossed. "Doesn't matter. No one would suspect me."
"You can't know that." I leaned forward, willing her to understand.
Alex smiled, the kind of smile that belonged on magazine covers and charity galas. "Yes, I can. I'm the baby. The Bellante princess." She tossed her hair over one shoulder. "I'd be just about the last person Lorenzo would suspect."
The confidence in her voice made my stomach turn. Three people were dead. Her cousin. Her mother’s hairdresser. Sabine’s editor. And Alex sat there thinking she was untouchable, like her family's violence was something that happened to other people. Never to princesses.
"But it's not just Lorenzo we're talking about," Kara said, her voice tight with the same frustration I felt building in my chest.
Alex waved a dismissive hand. "The Scorpions move on Lorenzo's command."
"And Lorenzo moves on Matteo's command," Cam added quietly.
Alex rolled her eyes, tossing her perfect hair over one shoulder. "Well, my daddy certainly wouldn't think his princess would betray him."
My fingers tightened around my mug. The way she said "daddy"—like she was playing a role in some mafia movie. The certainty in her voice. The eye roll. It was all so practiced, so performative.
She was too smart for this.
She believed her own cover story too much. That was the problem. She'd been the Bellante princess for so long she'd forgotten that part was supposed to be the act. And that made her dangerous. To us. To Sabine.
My tea had gone cold. The mug felt heavy in my hands, anchoring me when all I wanted to do was scream. Sabine was somewhere, destroyed by grief and betrayal. And Alex sat there smiling like she was at one of her charity galas. It felt surreal.
I couldn't listen to this anymore. The arrogance. The casual dismissal of the danger we were all in. The complete lack of understanding of what Sabine had lost. The Alex I knew was not this obtuse, but I lacked the patience to draw out whatever was wrong.
I stood abruptly, the cushion next to me tumbling to the carpet. The others looked up, startled by the sudden movement. I gathered my mug, needing something to occupy my hands before I did something I'd regret. Like grab Alex and shake her until she understood what was at stake.
"I need some air," I muttered, not meeting anyone's eyes. The walls of the room felt like they were closing in. I needed space. Needed to breathe. Needed to be anywhere but here, listening to Alex pretend everything was fine when our world was falling apart.
I stalked to the kitchen, my fingers clenched so tight around my mug I feared the ceramic might crack. Their voices followed me.
I set my mug in the sink and turned on the water. The steady stream hitting porcelain drowned out my thoughts for a blessed moment. I closed my eyes, focusing on the cool water running over my hands.
"Process of elimination," Kara was saying, her words drifting in from the living room.
"Rocco might," Cam replied, her voice too low for me to catch the rest.
Alex's voice cut through clearly: "Nobody suspects me."
I shut off the water with more force than necessary. Her overconfidence would get us all killed. Sabine had every right to be furious. We had failed her with the cameras, with Mark's death, and now Alex wouldn't even acknowledge the danger we were in.
I listened for movement upstairs but heard nothing. No creaking floorboards, no footsteps. Sabine must have found somewhere downstairs to hide from us all.
I couldn't blame her. But I couldn't leave her alone with her grief either.
I moved through the great room like a ghost, my footsteps barely disturbing the silence.
The house felt cavernous, each shadow a potential hiding place.
The solarium door stood ajar, a sliver of darkness beyond.
As I approached, humid warmth spilled out to meet me, carrying the rich scent of jasmine and damp earth.
I peered around the doorframe, careful not to make any sudden movements. The darkness inside was nearly complete, broken only by silver moonlight filtering through the glass ceiling.
Then I saw her. Sabine was crumpled beneath the sprawling monstera, its massive leaves creating a canopy above her.
Birds-of-paradise towered nearby, their orange blooms dulled to gray in the moonlight.
She looked so small there, curled into herself, shoulders shaking with silent sobs as she cried into her forearm.
My heart cracked open. We had done this to her. Our cameras had failed. Our protection had failed. Mark was dead, and now she was alone on the floor of a stranger's greenhouse, crying into her sleeve like a child.
I crossed to her, my footsteps whisper-soft on the tile. I didn't want to startle her, but I couldn't leave her alone with this grief. It felt wrong, obscene almost, to let her suffer without offering comfort.
I crouched beside her, my knees protesting against the hard tile. Her hair had fallen across her face, damp with sweat and tears. I reached out, brushing it back from her forehead with gentle fingers.
The reaction was immediate. Sabine jerked away from my touch as if burned, her eyes flying open. Tears streamed down her face, catching the moonlight like silver trails. She shook her head once, twice. No. The rejection was unmistakable.
She didn't want me here. Didn't want comfort. Not from me. Not from any of us.
I stood up slowly, my legs stiff, and backed away a few steps. Sabine buried her face in her hands, her sobs growing louder now that she knew she wasn't alone. The sound tore through me, raw and primal.
I couldn't force comfort she didn't want, but I couldn't leave her alone either. Not when Mark's killers were still hunting. There had to be a middle ground. Some compromise between respecting her boundaries and fulfilling my duty to keep her safe.
At the door, I paused, eyes on her huddled form.
I'd give her space but stay close enough to hear if she needed me.
I positioned myself on the bench outside.
Leaning against the wall, I caught every muffled sob through the door.
The rules had been clear from the beginning: protect the asset, maintain professional distance.
Yet here I was, compromised beyond repair.
The memory of her defensiveness about those empty shorthand notebooks she collected still made me smile, even now.
Hours ago, her skin had been warm beneath my fingertips, her breath catching in my ear.
Somewhere along the way, Sabine Barrett had become more than an assignment—she'd become everything.
And now, we had shattered her trust. From the living room, their voices drifted toward me. Alex still sounded certain, while Cam methodically worked through scenarios. None of it mattered if Sabine wouldn't trust us again.
Footsteps approached, and then Kara appeared in the door of the great room. She took one look at me, glanced toward the solarium, then sat beside me without a word.
I moved my left hand to touch her right, and we held hands, keeping vigil outside a door we weren't welcome to enter, ready to stay all night if necessary for someone who no longer wanted us there.