Chapter 4 - The Enemy Closer Than Gold
The air in the penthouse grew dangerously cold. Vincent stood at his full height, his eyes dark with an intensity that would have terrified any boardroom on earth.
"Why did you come back here, Sloan?" Vincent asked, his voice deadly quiet. "If Vance was watching you, why hide in my penthouse?"
"Because of the hacker," Sloan said, wiping her face. "A week before I gave birth, a man contacted me. He said his name was Ethan, and that he used to work for Arthur Vance before he realized how monstrous the man was. Ethan told me that Vance had figured out I was hiding in a small clinic upstate. He told me the only place Vance’s men wouldn't dare break into with brute force was your personal penthouse—because it's the most heavily secured private residence in New York, and a breach here would trigger an automatic response from your federal security contracts."
Sloan looked toward the bassinet. "Ethan hacked the security to let me in. He told me to stay here, recover, and wait for the right moment to tell you the truth. But Vance is closing in, Vincent. He knows I'm not upstate anymore. That call... he knows I'm here."
Vincent didn't hesitate. He picked up his phone and dialed a direct, secure line.
"Marcus," Vincent said when his personal head of tactical security answered. "Lock down the DeVoe Tower penthouse. Level Five protocol. Bring a full tactical team to the perimeter. No one enters. If Arthur Vance or anyone associated with Vance International comes within a block of this building, detain them."
"Sir? Level Five?" Marcus sounded shocked. "That's a wartime protocol."
"We are at war," Vincent said flatly and cut the call.
He turned back to Sloan, walking over to her and gently pulling her up from the chair. For the first time in six months, he pulled her into his arms. He held her tight, buried his face in her hair, and let out a shaky breath.
"I am so sorry," Vincent whispered fiercely into her ear. "I let you go. I believed the lie. I let you face that monster alone."
Sloan clutched his shirt, her tears soaking the fabric. "I just wanted you to be safe. I couldn't let him kill you, Vincent. I couldn't let Willa grow up without a father."
"He won't touch either of you," Vincent swore, his voice laced with absolute certainty. "I built an empire to protect what's mine. Arthur Vance thinks he owns me because he took my father. He is about to learn what happens when you try to take my family."
Right then, the lights in the penthouse flickered.
The massive floor-to-ceiling glass windows hummed with a low vibration. The electronic smart-locks on the penthouse doors gave a sharp, agonizing beep—and clicked open.
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The backup generator didn't kick in. The digital screens around the apartment went black.
From the hallway outside, the heavy sound of combat boots echoed against the marble floor.
