The elevator doors slid open, and Zara stepped out into glass and sky.

The penthouse stretched in every direction, walls of crystal catching the city lights. It was beautiful, yes, but sterile, like a museum curated by someone who hated leaving fingerprints.

Jake Stark stood at the far end, a phone pressed to his ear. He didn’t glance up as he ended the call, fingers moving over the security console until a wall display flickered to life red dots sweeping the perimeter, a living map of lockdown.

“Full perimeter is sealed,” he said, his tone clipped. “You’re safe here.”

Safe. She tightened her grip on her duffel.

It looked less like safety and more like a cage.

He finally looked up, the faintest edge of impatience in his gaze. “Miss Commbs. Second door on the left is yours. Liam’s next to you. There are rooms in this place you won’t touch. Don’t test that rule.”

She set the bag down, pulse drumming in her ears. “And if I do?”

His mouth curved no humor, just a shadow of something darker. “Then you’ll find out why people are more afraid of me than the men trying to kill you.”

The warning hung between them, cold and intimate. Zara broke eye contact first, turning toward the hall.

Damian leaned against the doorframe as she passed, They had met him at the lobby in arrival, Liam seemed to feel comfortable around him than jake.

he stood hands in his pockets and that easy smile that never quite reached his eyes. “Kid’s safe,” he said, tilting his head toward Liam’s room. “But he’s restless. Place like this will suffocate him. Let me take him out tomorrow, get him some air. I’ll keep him locked under more security than a president.”

Zara hesitated, arms folding. “Out? With what’s after us?”

“With me,” Damian said simply. “He needs something normal before this whole mess eats him alive.”

Before she could answer, Jake’s voice cut through, cold and final. “If Damian says he can keep the boy safe, he can.”

And that was that. Decision made.

***

Her phone buzzed, and she ducked into her room before either man could see the screen.

“Miss Commbs? Briar Hill Care,” the voice on the line said. “Your mother had another episode last night. She’s stable now, but we’d like someone to come by.”

Zara closed her eyes. The familiar ache pressed against her chest.

“I… can’t. Not right now,” she whispered, fighting to keep her voice steady. “Please just… keep her comfortable. I’ll arrange something.”

She ended the call and pressed the phone to her forehead, swallowing the guilt like glass. Liam couldn’t know. She couldn’t leave without tipping off whoever was hunting her.

Which left her with one option, and she hated it:

she had to ask Jake Stark for help. She'd do that first thing in the morning

***

She found him where she least expected behind a locked door that slid open at her approach.

The private gym was nothing like the sterile penthouse. Morning light poured through floor‑to‑ceiling windows, catching on black steel and glass, the air heavy with heat and the clean scent of sweat.

Jake Stark moved through the space like a machine in motion. A set of weights rose and fell in his hands, every repetition carved with precision. Sweat slicked his shoulders, tracing the defined lines of muscle across his back, the damp hem of his T‑shirt clinging to him.

For a moment, she forgot why she had come.

He didn’t look up. “You’re up early,” he said, voice even despite the strain of the set.

“I needed to talk to you.” She hated how thin her voice sounded, hated more that her eyes lingered.

Jake racked the weights and finally turned. His gaze skimmed her wrinkled shirt, bare face, nerves she couldn’t quite hide. Something flickered in his eyes, gone before she could read it.

“About what?”

She hesitated, the call about her mother sticking in her throat. Asking for help meant owing him, and every instinct rebelled against that.

Still, she forced the words out. “It’s my mother. She’s in a care home. She had… an episode. I need to see her.”

Jake reached for a towel, methodical as ever. “Then see her.”

“It’s not that simple,” she said, crossing her arms. “They’re watching me. Maybe her too. If I go, I might lead them straight to her.”

He stilled, eyes narrowing slightly. A beat passed, his gaze unreadable.

“I’ll arrange secure transport and a team. You’ll go this afternoon. No one will follow.”

Relief pulsed through her, bitter as it was. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

Jake slung the towel over his shoulder and reached for fresh training wraps, pausing when his fingers brushed a stubborn knot. “Hand me that roll,” he said.

Zara blinked, then stepped closer. The air between them thickened as she tore a strip and knelt slightly to wind it around his wrist. Her fingers grazed the heat of his skin, the steady thrum of his pulse beneath the bandage.

“Too tight?” she asked, voice low.

He met her eyes, unreadable. “Perfect.”

The word vibrated through her, and for a heartbeat, neither moved. Then she pulled back quickly, her palms tingling with leftover warmth.

Jake stepped closer, close enough for her breath to catch. “Don’t thank me yet, Miss Commbs. You’re under my protection because you’re my liability. I keep liabilities controlled.”

The words brushed her skin like a live wire. She forced herself not to step back.

“Controlled. Right,” she said, her voice flatter than she intended.

“Zara,” Jake said, and her name in his voice rooted her to the spot. “You can’t protect them if you won’t let me protect you. Remember that.”

She nodded once and turned to go, pulse tripping in her veins.

***

Zara barely had time to shower and change before the penthouse intercom chimed. She expected another terse security update, maybe Damian checking in. Instead, the private elevator opened to reveal a woman who looked like she belonged in the pages of a glossy magazine.

Tall and poised, dressed in effortless white, she carried the kind of confidence that came from always being welcome. Her perfume reached Zara first, polished sweetness layered over something sharp.

“Jake,” she said as soon as her heels touched the marble, her voice warm in a way that felt deliberate. “You’re hard to pin down these days.”

Jake emerged from his study, sleeves rolled, his expression as unreadable as ever. “Charlotte. I wasn’t expecting you.”

“You never do.” Her gaze flicked to Zara, a sweep so quick and dismissive it barely qualified as acknowledgement. “And this must be the assistant?”

Zara straightened. “Zara Commbs.” She kept her tone level, though her pulse spiked.

Charlotte smiled, all teeth and ease. “We’ll talk in private?”

“Not today,” Jake said, his voice a slice of cold steel. “You can leave whatever message you came with.”

A flicker of irritation crossed Charlotte’s face before the perfect smile returned. “Another time, then.”

The elevator swallowed her, and the doors whispered shut.

The silence that followed stretched taut. Zara found herself staring at the empty space where Charlotte had stood, an ugly twist of something unfamiliar coiling in her chest. Jealousy didn’t fit her, yet it clung all the same.

Damian strolled in, hands in his pockets, a grin playing at his mouth. “She’s fun at parties,” he said, his tone dry, “and completely untrustworthy.”

Zara tore her gaze from the elevator. “Who is she?”

“Someone who still thinks she has a claim,” Damian replied, then shifted easily. “Anyway, Liam’s restless. I promised to take him to the park

She nodded in approval, at least Liam would be free and safe with Damian

Damian’s smile was warm, but she still couldn’t shake the feeling it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

***

That night, the penthouse felt too large and too quiet. Liam was already asleep, the steady rise and fall of his breathing seeping under the door like a reminder of what she couldn’t afford to lose.

Zara sat on the edge of her bed, replaying the day in pieces her mother’s frail voice, Jake’s impassive stare, the slow burn of heat when he’d stepped too close, and Charlotte’s effortless claim on him, like she belonged to a part of his life Zara would never see.

And Damian.

He’d been the only one to notice Liam’s restlessness, the only one to offer a solution. Yet something about his smile unsettled her, as if every reassurance came with invisible strings.

Zara rubbed at the knot in her chest and crossed to the window. The city stretched out beneath her, a living map of lights and shadows. Somewhere in that darkness, someone still wanted them dead.

Jake’s words whispered back to her: I keep liabilities controlled.

Was that all she was to him a liability?

Her fingers curled against the cool glass, her other hand unconsciously brushing the spot on her palm where his skin had burned against hers. The warmth hadn’t faded.

For the first time since this all began, she wondered if the real danger wasn’t outside waiting to get in. It was here, behind these walls, pulsing in the space between herself and the man who held all the power.

Why was he Protecting her instead of asking questions?

And the more she thought the harder it was getting to pretend she wasn’t drawn in.

A sharp knock rattled her door.

“Zara!” Liam’s voice was breathless, urgent. He shoved the door open, eyes wide with terror.

“I saw him,” he gasped. “I saw Dad. He’s here.”

The floor dropped out from under her.