Khan had known this for a long time. The difficulty was in accepting it. Stacy could not replace him one day as the head of the Drakethorn estate if she could not handle her own enemies.
The Red Dragon considered all the ways he’d handled his enemies in the past. Some methods he regretted. Others had proven effective time and time again.
Khan remained still and quiet for a long moment, then reached for his phone. Stacy would pave her path, but he would protect her along the way. As long as I am able, he thought. And it starts with making a few phone calls.
A knock came at Stacy’s bedroom door.
“Come in.”
Rowan entered, holding an encrypted tablet that washed his face in a white glow.
“I didn’t want to bother you since we both need rest, but I have intelligence reports on Victor’s defenses at the stronghold from the files. I’ve asked Kiera to confirm them when she’s there.”
Stacy nodded. “Good.”
“Did you speak to your father?”
“He will send defenses over in the morning. I trust the estate will be well protected while we’re away.”
Rowan nodded. “I will summon the estate guardians and request their aid as well. Stacy, you must know that the risks of this mission…”
“I know.” Stacy swallowed. Trust me. The sting of Spencer’s death was still as fresh as a knife wound. Her fear for Amy hovered around her.
The dryad’s face softened. “I am with you all the way. So are Kiera and Miles.”
“I know,” she said again, softer this time.
The location was secure and undisclosed to anyone but those currently sitting at the conference table. The low lighting in the room made it so Victor could hardly make out the faces of the men gathered. The room had no windows, thus no gleam of early morning light.
Victor checked his watch. It was barely past dawn. He did not feel like he’d slept enough, but he’d awoken, unable to shake thoughts of Stacy’s assault from his mind. Shortly after waking, a representative of his father had called, having learned of the assault on the Aurora estate.
It was safe to say Victor Corbinelli II was pissed off. He’d threatened to move everything belonging to Victor to someone else. A useless nephew or something. The Aurora estate was the oldest piece of property the Corbinelli clan owned. Its age was only one aspect that made it valuable. The magic running beneath the land in its natural ley lines made it useful for many matters.
Victor had known the moment he heard the threat that his father was bluffing, but it ignited a motivation to see the death of Stacy Drake through. As soon as fucking possible. He’d called the police chief already to ensure Turnbower made certain Amy Greentree’s friend’s death did not lead to him. If the bitch journalist died too, great, but Victor needed it covered up. Much work remained.
In this room, surrounded by his most trusted advisors, Victor led a tense poring-over of security protocols.
If you don’t get this figured out, there will be consequences. The voice in Victor’s mind was his own, but it was also his father’s, his grandfather’s, and the slimy representative who had called and spoken those exact words earlier.
Victor’s face was a mask of cold fury, his fingers tapping an impatient rhythm on the table. One man, his head of security, stood to his right, clearing his throat. He spoke in a low, monotone voice. “We have some vulnerabilities in the stronghold to take care of before we can lay the bait. Rest assured, it will be done as soon as possible.”
“You must be vigilant,” Victor replied. “No word of such vulnerabilities must leave this room.”
The head of security nodded. “You have my word.”
“That stupid bitch will go there,” Victor went on, the control in his voice slipping. His hands balled into fists on the table. Several men shared glances. “She should have reached a state of maturity by now to realize each soldier is a tool, not a reason to rain vengeance on her foes.”
One man snorted. “The man who died in the hospital isn’t close to her. Not really. We know she’ll lose her shit over it, though.” He smiled slyly. “At least that part of the plan went well.”
Victor ground his jaw. “We can only hope the journalist bitch dies, too.” He rolled a shrug off his shoulders, a forced show of nonchalance. “Oh, well. Miss Drake won’t live long enough to learn the lesson. I won’t spare her any pity.”
The men discussed further protocols for security and defense before Victor dismissed them. Only the head of security remained behind. When the pair were alone, he laid a file in front of Victor. “I didn’t say this before in case we have a mole, but the bait being bred is nearly finished. The prototypes await your inspection and investment.”
“I’ve invested a lot already,” Victor nearly growled.
“The final investment is needed. This will be worth it, I believe. Garth thinks so.”
Where the hell was Garth?
“On his way to the facility stronghold, sir,” the head of security told him after reading the question on Victor’s face. “We expect to see him tomorrow. Well, today, that is.”
“Is Voss with him?”
“No, sir. He’s coming alone.”
Victor rose, buttoning the front of his suit jacket. “Let’s see how the Project is coming along. We left files in the warehouse and the estate in case Stacy and her snooping friends came along. I trust they found them. They were missing. They’ll be curious enough to investigate. Keep an eye out for anyone prowling around today. If the witch is smart, she’ll send someone ahead to scope things out.”
For the first time in several hours, Victor produced a cold smile, hands shoved deep in his pockets. “The only thing is, Stacy Drake has no damn clue how big our operation is. She’s about to find out.”
“And by then, it will be too late,” the head of security drawled.
No sign of Kiera’s return awaited Stacy when she awoke the next morning. Rowan and Miles were still asleep, so Stacy went to the kitchen by herself and made a cup of coffee. The stillness of the morning seemed wrong to her, knowing Amy was still in the hospital and Spencer was gone.
