Chapter 2 The Alpha's Command

The crash came from the east wing just as I was unpacking my last pair of shoes.

I paused with one shoe in my hand. A second crash followed, then a man's voice shouting something I couldn't make out. Footsteps rushed past my door.

I set the shoe down and listened.

"Get the east corridor covered!"

The man sounded like he was used to being obeyed.

I opened my door.

Two security guards hurried toward the far end of the hallway, their hands resting near their weapons. One spoke into his radio while the other pulled a door shut behind him.

I stepped into the corridor.

A woman appeared around the corner, moving so quickly that she nearly collided with me. Mrs. Hayes caught my arm to steady herself.

"Why are you out here?"

"I heard the noise."

"Then you should have stayed in your room."

She started pulling me back, but another crash made her turn. The colour drained from her face, and I realised she was frightened.

"Go inside, Clara. Lock the door."

"What happened?"

"An intruder got into the east wing. That's all you need to know."

"But-"

"Please, Clara. Just do as I say."

She hurried away before I could ask anything else.

An intruder.

She had no idea who I really was.

I glanced at the security cameras lining the ceiling. If someone had made it into a restricted part of the penthouse, either the security team had missed something or the intruder knew exactly where to go.

Neither possibility was comforting.

I should have returned to my room. Instead, I followed the noise.

At the entrance to the east wing, three guards stood around a man kneeling on the marble floor. His shirt was torn at the shoulder, and blood ran from a cut above his eyebrow. Two guards held his arms, but he kept twisting his body, testing their grip.

He wasn't frightened.

He was waiting for something.

Then I saw Cassian Vanguard.

He stood a few feet away, his sleeves rolled up, watching the prisoner with an expression that gave nothing away.

"Where is the drive?" Cassian asked.

The man spat blood onto the floor.

"Go to hell."

Cassian glanced at one of the guards. "Search him again."

"We already have, sir."

"Then search him properly."

The guard reached into the man's jacket. Without warning, the prisoner drove his head backward, catching the guard across the nose. As the man stumbled, the prisoner twisted free of the second guard and slammed his shoulder into the third.

Everything happened at once.

One guard reached for his weapon while another shouted for Adrian. The prisoner grabbed a heavy metal ornament from a nearby table and swung it at the nearest man.

Cassian stepped forward.

"Enough."

The single word cut through the shouting.

The prisoner turned toward him, breathing hard. Then he smiled.

"You're still giving orders as if you're untouchable."

Cassian's expression didn't change.

"You broke into my home, assaulted my men, and now you're refusing to answer a simple question." He took a step closer. "You're running out of opportunities to make this easy."

The stranger wiped the blood from his eyebrow.

"You think your money makes you powerful?"

"No."

Cassian moved closer.

"I think you already know what makes me powerful."

The man gave a crooked smile.

"You're not the only Alpha in this city."

The guards went still.

I looked from one face to another, waiting for someone to laugh or challenge him. Nobody did.

Then Cassian's eyes turned gold.

Not brown with a golden reflection. The colour spread across his irises, bright enough to be unmistakable even from where I stood.

A growl rolled out of his chest.

The sound was so deep that I felt it in my ribs. One guard immediately lowered his head. The others followed, their shoulders stiff and their eyes fixed on the floor.

I gripped the edge of the wall.

What was he?

The prisoner staggered backward. His confidence vanished as he stared at Cassian, as though the man standing before him had become something else entirely.

Cassian's voice dropped.

"Kneel."

The stranger's knees struck the marble.

I hadn't seen him decide to obey. One moment he was standing; the next, he was on the floor, his hands braced against the tiles as he struggled to lift his head.

My fingers loosened against the wall.

That wasn't fear alone. I had seen men frightened enough to beg for their lives, but this man's body had responded before he could even argue.

Cassian moved closer.

"Now tell me who sent you."

The stranger clenched his jaw, struggling against whatever force held him down.

"You can make me kneel, Vanguard. You can't make me talk."

Cassian's golden eyes narrowed.

"We'll see."

For a moment, I thought the confrontation was over.

Then the prisoner's expression changed. He let out a strained breath, planted one foot against the floor, and forced himself upright. Before the guards could react, he drove his elbow into the face of the man beside him and rolled away.

A small knife appeared in his hand.

The nearest guard reached for him, but the prisoner slashed at his arm and broke through the gap.

He ran straight toward the corridor.

Toward me.

I had enough time to notice the knife, the way he held it, and the fact that his injured leg wasn't slowing him down as much as it should have.

I also had enough time to realise he expected me to move out of his way.

I didn't.

He raised the knife as he approached. I shifted to my left, letting his first strike pass close to my shoulder. His momentum carried him forward, and I caught his wrist with both hands, turning it away from my body.

He was stronger than he looked.

The knife came dangerously close to my fingers before I adjusted my grip and forced his arm outward. He cursed and tried to wrench himself free. I drove my knee into his thigh, just above the injury that had already weakened his stance.

His leg buckled.

I struck his wrist against the edge of the console table. The knife clattered to the floor.

He stared at me for half a second, surprised.

That was his mistake.

I stepped inside his reach and drove my shoulder into his chest, forcing him backward. He hit the wall hard enough to knock a framed photograph crooked. Before I could secure his arm, he grabbed a handful of my uniform and yanked me toward him.

The fabric tightened around my throat.

I hooked my foot behind his ankle and pushed against his shoulder. He lost his balance, and we both stumbled. My back struck the console table. Pain shot through my side, but I kept hold of his wrist.

He swung at my face with his free hand.

I ducked. His fist struck the wall instead.

"Let go of me!" he snarled.

"Stop fighting, then."

I twisted his arm behind him, trying to pin him against the wall.

He laughed in my face and slammed his head backward.

I moved just in time, but the blow grazed my cheek. My eyes watered. He tore free, snatched the knife from the floor, and turned toward me again.

I reached for the nearest object and grabbed a heavy brass candlestick from the console table.

His eyes flicked toward it.

"You're a maid," he said, breathing hard. "Put that down."

I tightened my grip.

"You're the one holding a knife."

He rushed me.

I swung the candlestick at his forearm. The impact knocked his weapon aside, and the knife skidded beneath a cabinet. He grabbed my wrist before I could strike again and squeezed until the candlestick slipped from my hand.

For a moment, we struggled over it.

Then he drove me backward.

My shoulder struck the wall, and his hand closed around my throat.

The corridor blurred at the edges. His face was inches from mine, his breath hot against my cheek.

"Should've stayed in your room," he muttered.

I drove my heel down onto his foot.

His grip loosened just enough.

I caught his thumb, twisted his hand away from my throat, and turned beneath his arm. When he stumbled forward, I shoved him hard against the wall and drove my forearm across his upper back, keeping him bent while I reached for his wrist.

He fought like a man who knew he couldn't afford to be captured.

I fought like someone who had been taught never to give an opponent a second chance.

The distinction mattered.

He tried to throw his weight backward. I shifted aside, but his elbow caught my ribs. A sharp breath escaped me, and my grip slipped.

He spun around and struck me across the face.

My head snapped to the side.

For a moment, all I could hear was the ringing in my ears.

He raised his fist again.

I brought my arms up to block it, but before he could strike, a hand caught him by the back of his neck.

The stranger's feet left the floor.

Cassian lifted him as though he weighed nothing and slammed him into the opposite wall.

The impact shook the framed photograph loose. It crashed onto the marble, its glass shattering around the prisoner's legs.

Cassian stood over him.

His eyes were gold again.

"Look at me."

The stranger tried to crawl away.

Cassian caught him by the collar and hauled him upright.

"I said, look at me."

The man lifted his head.

Whatever he saw in Cassian's face made him stop struggling.

"You entered my home," Cassian said. "You attacked my security team. Then you put your hands on her."

His gaze shifted briefly toward me.

"That was the last mistake you were going to make."

The stranger grimaced.

"She attacked me first."

I pressed a hand to my throat and stared at him.

"You ran at me with a knife."

"You could've moved."

"And you could've stayed on the floor."

Cassian turned his head toward me.

For the first time since I had arrived at the penthouse, he seemed to have forgotten the man he was holding.

His eyes moved over my face, paused at the mark forming on my cheek, then dropped to my hand. I hadn't realised how tightly I'd clenched it until I noticed my fingers trembling.

"Are you injured?" he asked.

"I'm fine."

"That wasn't my question."

I lowered my hand from my throat.

"My ribs hurt. I'll survive."

Adrian appeared at the end of the corridor with two more guards. He stopped when he saw the broken frame, the overturned console table, and the knife beneath the cabinet.

His eyes settled on me before moving to the stranger pinned against the wall.

"What happened?"

"The man escaped," Cassian said.

Adrian looked at the prisoner, then at the damage around us.

"I can see that, sir. How did he get past three guards?"

"Perhaps you should ask him," I said.

Adrian's gaze shifted to me.

"I intend to ask several people a few questions."

"He came at her with a knife," Cassian interrupted.

Adrian looked at my cheek again.

"And she fought back?"

"She nearly put him through a wall," Cassian replied.

I said nothing. There wasn't much I could say that wouldn't make things worse.

Adrian walked over to retrieve the knife. He examined it briefly before handing it to one of the guards.

"Take him downstairs. Search every room he entered, and check the security footage from the last hour."

The guards seized the prisoner.

This time, he didn't fight them. As they dragged him away, he kept looking at Cassian, his face pale beneath the blood.

"You're making a mistake," he said.

Cassian straightened his cuffs.

"You made yours when you came here."

The elevator doors closed behind the prisoner and the guards.

Adrian remained beside Cassian.

"Sir, we found the east wing's service entrance unlocked. The alarm wasn't disabled. Someone used a valid access card."

"Whose?"

"We're checking."

"Check the staff cards first. Then everyone else. I want the full access log on my desk within the hour."

"Yes, sir."

Adrian glanced at me before leaving.

I didn't like the look he gave me. It wasn't the look of a man grateful that someone had helped restrain an intruder. It was the look of a security chief who had just discovered a new problem.

Cassian waited until Adrian was out of earshot.

"Come with me."

I looked at the elevator, then at him.

"Where?"

"My office."

"Am I being dismissed?"

"No."

He glanced at the broken candlestick.

"Not yet."

I followed him down the corridor, trying not to let my sore ribs show in the way I walked. He opened a door I hadn't noticed before and stepped aside to let me enter.

His office was larger than my entire staff room. A wide desk stood before a wall of windows, and several screens displayed security feeds from different parts of the building. I recognised the east corridor on one of them.

Cassian closed the door.

"Sit."

"I'd rather stand."

His gaze settled on me.

"You're either very brave or very foolish."

"I've been called both."

"By whom?"

"People who don't know me."

He pulled out a chair and sat behind his desk.

"Then let's correct that problem."

I remained where I was.

He glanced at the scrape on my cheek.

"Where did you learn to fight?"

I had expected the question. That didn't make answering it any easier.

"Growing up, I learned not to depend on other people to protect me."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the one I have."

His fingers tapped once against the desk.

"Your stance was trained. You watched his knife hand instead of his face. You used the furniture to limit his movement, and you didn't waste your strength trying to overpower him."

I kept my expression neutral.

"You noticed all that while you were busy throwing him across the corridor?"

"I notice everything that happens in my home."

He leaned back in his chair.

"And you didn't hesitate when he came at you."

"He had a knife."

"Most people would have run."

"Most people weren't standing between him and an open corridor."

For a moment, he said nothing. His gaze remained fixed on me, as though he was trying to decide whether I was telling the truth or simply giving him another excuse to investigate.

Then he opened a drawer and removed a small first-aid kit.

"Sit down, Clara."

This time, I did.

He placed the kit on the desk between us.

"Clean your cheek. Adrian will take your statement, and you'll tell him exactly what happened. Don't leave anything out."

"Understood."

I reached for the kit, but his hand remained on it.

"One more thing."

I looked up.

"Housemaids don't usually fight like that."

"Maybe you should have checked my references."

"I did."

My fingers stopped on the edge of the kit.

Cassian watched the change in my expression.

"Your employment history is unusually short. Your previous address doesn't exist, and the agency that recommended you has no record of sending you here."

I felt the room tighten around me.

He had checked my background already.

"I was told the agency had sent my documents ahead."

"That isn't what I found."

He released the first-aid kit.

"Then explain it to me."

I opened the kit and took out a piece of gauze.

"I don't know what you want me to say. I needed work. Mrs. Hayes hired me. If someone gave you the wrong paperwork, take it up with the agency."

Cassian's eyes narrowed.

"And you expect me to believe you know nothing about it?"

"I expect you to understand that I didn't hire myself."

He watched me for a moment, but I refused to look away.

Finally, he leaned back.

"You're very comfortable arguing with your employer."

"Would you prefer I agreed with everything you said?"

"Most people know better than to challenge me."

"Perhaps they have better things to do."

A brief silence followed. I couldn't tell whether he was annoyed or amused, and I wasn't about to ask.

I cleaned the blood from my cheek, refusing to let my hand shake again.

Cassian stood.

"Until I finish investigating the security breach, you won't leave this penthouse without permission."

I looked up sharply.

"You're keeping me here?"

"I'm protecting my household."

"From the man you just arrested?"

"From whoever helped him get inside."

"And if I need to go somewhere?"

"Then you'll inform me first."

I stared at him.

He had to be joking.

He didn't look like a man who joked often.

Cassian walked to the door, then paused with his hand on the handle.

"And Clara?"

"Yes?"

His eyes met mine.

"Next time someone attacks you, don't wait until they've got their hands around your throat before you finish the fight."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Next time someone attacks me, I'll be sure to ask your permission before defending myself."

His jaw tightened.

"That isn't what I meant."

"Then perhaps you should explain what you did mean."

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then he opened the door.

"Get some rest. Adrian will speak to you in the morning."

He left me alone in the office, with the first-aid kit on my lap and the security cameras still showing the empty corridor.

I had come here to steal an encryption code.

Instead, I'd fought an intruder in front of my employer, exposed training I had spent years learning to conceal, and earned the attention of a man whose eyes could turn gold and whose voice could force armed men to their knees.

Worse, Cassian Vanguard had already discovered that my employment records were false.

And I had thirty days left to get what I came for.