Chapter 3
Yet, my primary office wasn't a cubicle. It was a massive, sunlit suite attached directly to Sebastian's private executive office, designed with one specific feature in mind: a reinforced resting area for Cerberus.
On my third day on the job, the giant pit bull was curled up asleep near my desk like a furry rug of muscle and scars, occasionally letting out soft snores that echoed through the quiet room.
Sebastian walked in holding a stack of shipping manifests related to our European import logistics. He paused, looking down at Cerberus, then up at me with a faint smile that softened the harsh angles of his face.
"He hasn't left your side once all morning," Sebastian noted, leaning against my doorframe. "Usually, he sits outside my office door like a sentinel. You've cast some kind of spell on him, Nina."
"Maybe I just know how to treat someone who's tired of fighting," I replied softly, organizing a stack of financial reports.
Before Sebastian could answer, a sharp, urgent chime echoed from his encrypted desk console. His expression shifted instantly from easy warmth back into the cold, ruthless mask of the Reaper. He strode into his office, punching a button on the speakerphone.
"Report," Sebastian commanded.
"Mr. Crowe," the head of our internal security detail spoke rapidly, his voice laced with static. "We have a security breach at the private garage entrance on Level B2. Viktor Vance's men have intercepted the delivery trucks. They're demanding we surrender our shipping routes on the North Side, or they'll start making examples of our staff."
Viktor Vance. The ruthless leader of the Russian-backed syndicate operating out of the northern docks—and the father of Caleb Whitmore, the very man who had grabbed my wrist at The Serpent Room a week ago. This wasn't a random corporate dispute; it was personal retaliation.
Sebastian slammed his fist down on the desk, the sound cracking like thunder through the suite. "Lock down the building. Do not engage until I get down there."
"Wait," I said, standing up immediately. "Viktor Vance is doing this because his son humiliated himself at the club over me. This is connected to me."
"This is business, Nina, and it predates you by a decade," Sebastian snapped, grabbing his custom leather holster from the coat rack and strapping it across his chest. "Stay in this office. Lock the reinforced steel doors. Do not open them for anyone except me."
He turned and bolted out the door, sprinting toward the private executive elevators.
Inside the suite, the atmosphere shifted instantly. Cerberus jolted awake, his ears pricking forward. He let out a low, menacing rumble, pacing back and forth near the locked glass door.
Ten minutes passed. The building remained dead silent, save for the hum of the air conditioning.
Then, the emergency intercom system hissed to life, playing a distorted, automated evacuation warning.
Click.
The reinforced steel door to my suite didn't open via a security override code. Instead, the heavy electronic latch buzzed violently as someone on the outside bypassed the system using a physical override master key.
My blood ran cold. Sebastian had told me not to open it for anyone except him. But what if he was injured? What if he needed help?
I stepped backward, grabbing a heavy glass paperweight from my desk as the door slowly swung inward.
It wasn't Sebastian.
It was two heavily armed enforcers wearing tactical vests bearing the Vance syndicate insignia. Their faces were obscured by black balaclavas, and assault rifles were gripped tightly in their scarred hands.
"Well, well, well," the taller enforcer sneered in a thick accent, stepping into the office. "The boss's new pet assistant. Viktor wants a message delivered to Crowe. Starting with the things he cares about most."
I backed up until my lower back hit the glass window overlooking the fifty-fourth floor drop. My hands shook so violently I nearly dropped the glass paperweight.
"Get out," I managed to choke out.
The enforcer raised the barrel of his rifle, aiming directly at my chest. "Say goodbye, sweet—"
He never finished the sentence.
Cerberus exploded into motion.
Like a missile launched from a cannon, the scarred pit bull crossed the room in a fraction of a second, his jaws clamping onto the enforcer's rifle barrel with crushing force. With a vicious twist of his powerful neck, he ripped the weapon out of the man's hands, sending it clattering across the floor.
The second enforcer yelled in panic, drawing a tactical knife and lunging toward Cerberus.
Without hesitating, I hurled the heavy glass paperweight with all my might, striking the second man squarely in the temple. He staggered back, disoriented just long enough for Cerberus to pivot, slam his massive shoulder into the man's chest, and pin him violently to the carpet.
The first enforcer scrambled backward toward the open door, terrified out of his mind, and bolted down the hallway screaming for help.
Within seconds, heavy footsteps echoed outside, and Sebastian burst into the room, his gun drawn, followed by four armed security guards.
He took in the scene in a single, sweeping glance: the bruised enforcer pinned to the floor by a snarling Cerberus, the shattered glass, and me standing against the window, hyperventilating with tears streaming down my face.
Sebastian holstered his weapon instantly, crossed the room in three strides, and grabbed my shoulders.
"Are you hurt?" he demanded, his voice cracking with a raw, desperate panic I had never heard from him before. "Nina, look at me. Did they touch you?"
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"I'm... I'm okay," I sobbed, my knees finally buckling.
Sebastian didn't hesitate. He scooped me up into his arms, carrying me past the subdued intruders as security swarmed the room, and rushed me down to his private medical suite.
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