Chapter 25
2355words
Sinclair Dominion HQ | Office of The CEO
Early Afternoon
The skyline outside Lucian’s office was all winter steel and glass, a perfect match for the chill in the air. The light over Dominion Tower cast long, clinical shadows across the matte-black floors and the brushed steel trim. Everything gleamed with quiet authority—just enough to remind visitors they were not welcome unless invited.
Kristina stood near the wall, half-shadowed beneath a sculptural light fixture. She wasn’t blocking the door, but she wasn’t exactly not blocking it either. Her suit was black. Her eyes were unreadable. And her presence radiated control.
The elevator chimed.
Two men stepped out.
The first was lean and sharp-featured, all calculated smirks and tailored arrogance—Thorne Vale, regional director for Ironcrest Ordnance, a weapons manufacturing giant with a reputation for playing dirty and dressing clean. He wore navy, a watch worth more than most people’s homes, and a confidence that bordered on bloodthirsty.
The second was more relaxed—wider frame, lighter on his feet, charismatic in a way that felt almost lazy. Camden Routh, the youngest VP in Astradyne Powertech, a tech-forward competitor specializing in battlefield energy systems. He wore his jacket unbuttoned, his smile easy.
Neither belonged here.
Lucian didn’t stand.
Didn’t even look up from the thin stack of reports in front of him.
“Gentlemen,” he said evenly. “Was there an appointment I missed?”
“No need for formality,” Vale said smoothly, striding in like he owned the place. “This isn’t a business call. More of a… courtesy visit.”
Routh followed behind, eyes already sweeping the room—landing on Kristina and not moving. “Though I have to say, your new security detail is… impressive.”
Kristina stayed perfectly still. Not a breath out of place.
Lucian’s pen stilled.
Vale smiled. “Black Harrow. That’s the name making the rounds, isn’t it?” He turned to Lucian again. “A bit dramatic, even for you. Or is that the point?”
Routh added, “Some of us were starting to think you’d brought in a weapon. A warning.” His eyes flicked back to Kristina with something that wasn’t quite amusement. “Is she armed right now?”
“She’s always armed,” Lucian said flatly. “And if you’re nervous, maybe you shouldn’t be here.”
That should’ve been the end of it. But of course it wasn’t.
“Relax,” Routh said, still grinning. “I like a woman who knows how to hurt me.”
Kristina’s expression didn’t change, but her posture did. Subtle. Sharpened.
Vale tilted his head. “She doesn’t talk much, does she?”
“She doesn’t need to,” Lucian replied coldly.
The two men exchanged a glance, clearly enjoying themselves.
“I have to admit,” Vale continued, “it’s a bold choice. Hiring a myth. Makes you look more dangerous than usual. But also makes people wonder…” He stepped a little closer to the desk. “Is this about security—or territory?”
Lucian finally looked up.
And smiled.
But it wasn’t warm.
“It’s about keeping liabilities out of my building,” he said. “You’ve made that harder than usual.”
Routh laughed, but Vale raised both hands. “Hey, no offense meant. She’s quite the asset.” Then, to Kristina: “You ever consider switching companies? We pay well.”
Lucian stood.
The shift in the room was immediate.
The air changed. Not loudly, not aggressively—but enough to make both men freeze for half a breath. Enough to remind them they were playing with fire, and the fire had stood up.
Lucian didn’t speak right away. Just walked slowly around the side of the desk, gaze locked on Vale.
When he stopped, he was close. Not threatening—but unmistakably dominant.
“Kristina doesn’t belong to anyone,” he said quietly. “But if I ever find out someone tried to poach her—”
A pause. Not for effect. Long enough to be clear.
“—I won’t be diplomatic about it.”
That should’ve ended it.
But Routh—either brave or stupid—grinned again. “So you’re protective, huh? Is that professional or… personal?”
Lucian didn’t answer right away.
He stepped between Kristina and them, body angled to block their view of her entirely. Not a gesture. Not a warning.
“She’s taken.”
The words weren’t loud. But they didn’t need to be.
Routh blinked. Vale raised an eyebrow.
“I’ve never thought of you as the possessive type,” Vale said, a hint of amusement threading his voice.
Lucian didn’t look away. “You thought wrong.”
And when he spoke again, his voice had dropped a shade colder.
“This meeting is over.”
Routh didn’t move.
Didn’t leave.
Instead, he gave a slow shrug, like Lucian’s declaration had been more of an opening than a warning.
“It’s not over yet,” he said, brushing his lapel, like nothing had been said. “You said she’s taken. But by who?” His eyes slid to Kristina—and lingered—before returning to Lucian. “Is it a husband? A boyfriend? Or…” He tilted his head. “Is it you, Sinclair?”
Kristina’s expression didn’t shift, but Lucian did.
His posture was still sharp, hands at his sides—but the tension had coiled tighter through his shoulders, like he was barely restraining the impulse to move.
Vale stepped in, smiling like this was all still a game. “We’re just curious. That’s all. You bring Black Harrow to work and expect no one to talk?” His tone shifted—more direct now, eyes on Kristina. “What if I said we have an opening for you? Something personal. Exclusive. Not as a bodyguard.”
His smile deepened.
“Something more... intimate.”
The temperature in the room dropped a few degrees.
Kristina didn’t move. Didn’t so much as breathe wrong.
But Lucian took a step forward. Just one. Enough to block Vale’s view again, enough to make the distance between them feel smaller than it was.
“Careful,” Lucian said softly.
Vale ignored the warning. “What? I like her. She’s strong. Composed. Lethal. I think she’d make a good wife.”
Kristina moved to speak, but she didn’t need to.
Lucian’s fist cracked across Vale’s jaw before the sentence finished.
It was sudden, brutal, and completely controlled—like he’d planned that punch for hours and waited for the precise second it was justified.
Vale staggered back, blood at his lip.
Routh surged forward in response, half-lunging—
But Kristina stepped in.
Too fast for most to track.
In a blink, she was between them, one hand grabbing Routh’s wrist mid-swing and twisting it back with such precision it nearly dislocated. Her other hand braced lightly at his throat—not enough to choke, just enough to make a point. One movement from him, and he’d be on the floor.
Routh froze.
“Don’t,” she said.
Simple. Final.
She held him there a beat longer than necessary, just long enough for every part of him to register that she could’ve done much worse.
Then she let go.
Routh stumbled back a step. Vale straightened with a sneer, rubbing his jaw.
Kristina didn’t flinch.
But when she spoke, her voice was low, deliberate—and sharper than anything she could’ve pulled from a sheath.
“You walked in here thinking I was something you could acquire. That I was for sale.” Her eyes cut to Routh. Then to Vale. “Try that again, and the only thing you’ll acquire is a permanent limp and a closed-casket sendoff.”
Silence followed.
Not out of fear—out of understanding.
Because they believed her.
Because they should.
Lucian remained silent. There was nothing left to say.
They left without another word.
The door shut behind them, and the air in the room shifted again—quieter now, but charged.
Kristina rolled her shoulders once. Lucian watched her for a beat longer than necessary.
Eli, from across the room, finally let out a slow whistle.
“Well,” he muttered. “That escalated fast.”
Lucian exhaled slowly, still watching the door.
Kristina adjusted the hem of her sleeve like nothing had happened.
“Sooo... do we log that under ‘diplomatic failure,’ or ‘territorial piss match’?” Eli called from the far side of the room, dry and entirely too entertained.
Kristina didn’t even look at him.
Lucian muttered, “Shut up.”
Eli just sipped his tea. “Just asking for the meeting minutes.”
Kristina stood still for a moment, the echo of movement still vibrating through her bones.
Then slowly—slowly—she turned toward Lucian.
"You punched him," she said flatly.
Lucian straightened his cuffs, breath calm but shoulders taut. “You heard what he said.”
“You still punched him.”
“I was being polite. I only hit one of them.”
Kristina blinked at him. “Lucian.”
He met her eyes, unapologetic. “I don’t regret it.”
She exhaled, something between exasperation and reluctant amusement flickering at the corners of her mouth. “You’re lucky I got there first. He was going to reach for your throat.”
Lucian’s mouth twitched. “He should’ve reached for the door instead.”
A quiet beat passed between them, tension crackling with something that wasn’t anger—but wasn’t quite settled either.
Kristina turned without a word and walked into the ensuite bathroom tucked behind the meeting room. A few moments later, she returned with a small med kit in hand.
She popped it open, pulled out antiseptic and gauze, and gave him a look that dared him to argue.
Lucian didn’t flinch when she dabbed at the split along his knuckle, but his jaw flexed.
“You punch with your whole damn soul,” she muttered, inspecting the swelling.
He smirked. “I aim to leave an impression.”
“You left a lawsuit waiting to happen.”
“Worth it.”
She didn’t smile. Not exactly. But her touch lingered half a second longer than necessary.
Off to the side, Eli—who hadn’t moved from his spot with his tea—spoke again.
“Should’ve brought popcorn,” he muttered.
Lucian glanced over, deadpan. “How long were you sitting
Eli shrugged. “Long enough to know your right hook’s improved.”
Lucian gave him a look. “You could’ve helped.”
Eli lifted his cup. “I was helping. I just… chose emotional support over physical intervention.”
Sinclair Dominion HQ | Hallway Outside the Executive Office
Later That Afternoon
Kristina walked in silence. She didn’t have to speak—her thoughts were louder.
Her hands were steady. Her steps sure. But her mind… wasn’t quiet.
Lucian’s voice had been low. Unshakable. The words weren’t meant for her, but they clung to her like silk and wire—soft and suffocating all at once.
Taken. Not hired. Not assigned. Not temporary.
She stepped into the private lounge area near the executive floor, somewhere quiet where she could breathe. She wasn’t running. Just—pausing.
Sebastian found her first. Of course he did.
He didn’t say anything—only offered a water bottle, casual as ever.
She took it. “Thanks.”
He sat beside her, same as always. Not prying. Just present.
Then: “You good?”
Kristina hesitated. Then said it before she could overthink it.
“Has Lucian ever had anyone?”
Sebastian didn’t move. But the pause in his breath was enough.
“Like… anyone serious?” she clarified, staring ahead. “Romantically.”
Now he glanced at her. Not surprised. Not smug. Just… considering.
“Not since I’ve known him,” Sebastian said. “Before that… maybe. If he did, no one made it past the walls.”
Kristina didn’t answer.
“But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to,” Sebastian added. “He’s just never been good at letting people see him.”
Then, softly, “Except you.”
She looked at him then, unsure whether to scoff or argue or thank him. She did none of those.
Sebastian just offered a small shrug, almost a smile. “Thought you’d want to know.”
Lucian Sinclair’s Estate | The Master Suite
Kristina leaned near the window, arms folded, the city lights flickering beneath the horizon. The house behind her was quiet—too quiet for the thoughts spinning in her chest.
He’d said it without hesitation. No stumble, no cover. Like it was obvious. Like it was true.
The word hadn’t just landed. It had lodged itself deep—quiet, steady, impossible to shake. Not because she didn’t understand it—but because she did. And that scared her more than anything that had happened in that office.
She had been called many things. Asset. Agent. Risk. Weapon. But never that. Never someone’s.
The funny thing was, Lucian hadn’t said it like she was a possession. There was no demand in it. No control. Just… a quiet certainty.
She’s taken.
She clenched her jaw, trying to shake it loose. She wasn’t supposed to want that. She wasn’t supposed to need it.
She hadn’t even realized she’d moved—until she was already halfway down the hall, drawn by something she couldn’t name. Her steps were quiet, practiced, but her thoughts were loud.
She stopped when her hand touched the edge of his door. It was cracked open, faint light spilling out.
She pushed gently.
Lucian was there.
Standing by the tall window, shirtless, bathed in the low amber glow of the city beyond. His shoulders were bare, pale in the light, his posture quiet but braced—like even in stillness, he was holding something in.
He turned. Saw her.
Kristina froze.
Not because she was afraid, but because something about the moment was… unguarded. She wasn’t used to this.
To him like this.
Lucian didn’t speak right away.
He just watched her.
She realized she had no idea why she was here.
Kristina opened her mouth, closed it again, then stepped back. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
His voice was low. Quiet. Measured.
He took a step forward. Then another.
He didn’t touch her—but he didn’t need to.
They were inches apart now, the air between them charged with something that didn’t have a name yet.
Lucian looked at her, gaze steady, voice softer this time. “I know what you have to say.”
Kristina blinked up at him. Her voice came slower than she expected. “I… I actually had a question.”
Lucian raised an eyebrow. “Ask it.”
She hesitated. “Have you ever… been with anyone?”
There was a pause. Lucian didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away.
But his voice, when it came, was quiet. Honest.
“Not like that.”
Kristina studied his face. “What does that mean?”
Lucian’s jaw flexed slightly. “I’ve never let anyone close enough to matter.”
Another beat passed.
“And now?”
His answer came without hesitation.
“You’re already too close.”
Kristina’s breath caught. She didn’t move. Didn’t back away.
She didn’t need to say anything else.
Neither did he.
The silence between them said enough.
He hadn’t touched her—but she’d never felt more claimed.
– to be continued
