I stumbled back, the air in the room suddenly feeling heavy enough to crush me. "Does Roman know? Did he authorize this?"

Reese dragged a hand through his hair, a jagged flash of irritation in his eyes. "Jesus Christ, Savannah. Roman this, Roman that. Are you two joined at the hip?"

"You're in his house," I snapped, my pulse thudding. "The least you could do is show some respect. You don't entertain guests in someone else's home while they're out—especially not without a word."

He scoffed, leaning back with that insufferable Blackwood smirk. "He's not a guest. He's the architect of this family. And he's not here for Roman." His gaze weighed heavily on me. "He’s coming to see you, pretty girl."

The words hit me like a physical blow. "Why me? He doesn't even know me."

"That’s what you think," Reese tilted his head, his tone chillingly calm. "Our father probably knows the map of your soul better than you do."

A shiver rolled down my spine. The way he spoke made his father sound less like a man and more like a legend cloaked in human skin. My mind raced through a dozen terrifying possibilities—mob boss, kingpin, dictator?

Reese’s phone cut through the tension. He answered with a sudden, sharp obedience. "Yes, Father? Yes, sir." That was it. The call ended, but the weight of it filled the room.

I spun to run upstairs, desperate to find my phone and call Roman, but Reese moved with frightening speed. His hand caught my wrist, his grip like a steel shackle.

"As much as I have a soft spot for you," he drawled, "I can't let you leave the room. Not yet."

"Let go, Reese!" I jerked, but he held me firm.

"Not until the big man gets here." He gave my wrist a small, patronizing shake. "Stay. Have some pancakes while we wait."

"I don't want your pancakes!" My voice cracked. "You're insane. Roman will kill you for this."

Just then, the wail of sirens cut through the air, vibrating the windows. My heart plummeted. Reese’s lips curved into a slow, dark grin.

"We'll see, sister-in-law."

He moved to lead me toward the foyer, and for a moment, I fought back, my nails scraping against the counter. Reese let out an annoyed breath, spinning me around and pinning my arms—not with malice, but with a cold, professional efficiency that made me feel like a prisoner of war.

"Stop struggling," he muttered, his voice surprisingly laced with a flicker of regret. "I’m sorry, but I can't let you disrupt the entrance. Forgive me."

Before I could spit back a response, the front door burst open with a thunderous crack.

A line of men in rigid suits marched in, their presence swallowing the light. Then came the sound—tap, tap, tap—a walking stick striking the marble like a metronome for my execution.

A man stepped inside, accompanied by a woman who looked like a flawless, porcelain doll. The air didn't just shift; it vanished. This man carried himself like he owned the entire world. His eyes—green, sharp, and achingly familiar—found mine. Roman’s eyes.

He looked the part perfectly—silver-streaked hair, sharp cheekbones, an aura of absolute command. The woman beside him, in her towering red heels, made me feel small and forgettable.

The man's stare pinned me. Then, his gaze shifted to where Reese held my wrists.

His voice was deep, smooth, and laced with iron. "I ordered you to ensure your brother’s bride stayed put, Zachary. Not to treat her like your personal captive. Again."

The word 'again' detonated in the room. My heart stopped. Reese stiffened. And the silence that followed was the loudest thing I'd ever heard.