The edge of the knife

Chapter Ten The Warning

The city skyline stretched endlessly below, a sea of glittering lights. But inside Cassius's penthouse, there was no warmth—only the quiet hum of tension thickening the air, pressing in like an unseen force.

Cassius stood by the window, his phone still glowing in his hand. The message on the screen was stark, ominous.

We're watching. You're running out of time.

Leila's stomach twisted into knots. A cold dread settled over her skin. "Who the hell sent that?"

Cassius didn't answer immediately. He simply exhaled, slow and controlled, setting the phone down with careful precision. His face was unreadable, but she knew him well enough by now—he was thinking, rearranging the board in his mind, considering his next move with the same ruthless calculation he applied to everything.

And that scared her.

"Cassius," she pressed, her voice tight.

Still, silence.

Leila's patience snapped. She strode forward and grabbed his wrist, her fingers tightening around the cool steel of his watch. "Don't shut me out."

His eyes flicked to her hand, a flicker of something passing through his gaze—something raw, something fleeting. But then, just as quickly, it vanished.

"This isn't just about you anymore," he finally said, his voice smooth, controlled.

Her chest constricted. "It never was, was it?"

Cassius reached for his whiskey glass, swirling the amber liquid before taking a slow, measured sip. "No."

Her pulse pounded in her ears. She had felt it from the moment she stepped into his world—this was bigger than a contract, bigger than power plays and whispered threats.

This was a war she hadn't even realized she was a part of.

Leila swallowed hard. "Who are we up against?"

Cassius turned back toward the window, his reflection blending with the city lights. "Someone who doesn't make empty threats."

That wasn't an answer. And she was done with his riddles.

"Damn it, Cassius." She grabbed his phone from the counter, reading the message again. The words pulsed like a countdown, a chilling reminder that someone was always watching. "If they know where I live, if they've been watching me—"

"They have," he cut in smoothly. "For weeks."

Her blood turned to ice. "And you didn't think I needed to know?"

Cassius turned to face her fully, his dark gaze locking onto hers with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. "I was handling it."

Leila let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "Handling it?" Her chest rose and fell with unsteady breaths. "What does that even mean, Cassius? That you were waiting for them to make a move? Waiting for them to—"

His silence was answer enough.

A sharp pang of anger shot through her, fueled by fear. "You're playing chess with my life, and I didn't even know I was on the board."

Cassius didn't flinch, but something in his stance shifted. His jaw tightened, his shoulders set.

"You're not a piece, Leila." His voice was softer now, but there was no mistaking the steel beneath it. "You're the queen."

She stilled.

The weight of his words settled over her like a heavy cloak. He wasn't just saying it to manipulate her. He meant it.

And that terrified her even more.

Before she could respond, the penthouse intercom buzzed, its sharp chime slicing through the charged air.

Cassius turned, pressing a button on the sleek control panel. "What?"

A voice crackled through the speaker. Familiar. Steady.

Jaxon.

"We need to talk. Now."

Cassius's gaze flickered to Leila, his expression unreadable.

Outside, the city lights pulsed like a heartbeat. But inside, one truth was undeniable.

Whoever was watching them had just made their next move.

And now, the real game had begun!

Jaxon stood in the doorway of the penthouse, his usual smirk nowhere in sight. His sharp gaze flicked between Cassius and Leila, assessing, calculating. He wasn't here for small talk. He was here because something was wrong.

Cassius took his time, his silence a deliberate power move. Then, with a slight tilt of his head, he stepped aside. "Talk."

Jaxon didn't waste a second. He pulled a folded document from his coat and tossed it onto the glass table. "You've got a rat."

The words sliced through the room, leaving behind a suffocating tension.

Leila felt her pulse spike.

Cassius didn't blink. His face remained unreadable, but his body language changed—shoulders locking, presence darkening. "Explain."

Jaxon sank into the leather chair, dragging a hand over his jaw. "Someone's been feeding information. Not just watching her—" he nodded toward Leila, "—but tracking every move you make."

Leila's stomach twisted.

She forced herself to keep her voice steady. "Who?"

Jaxon let out a humorless chuckle. "If I had a name, I wouldn't be here."

Cassius picked up the document and flipped it open. His expression remained unreadable, but the way his grip tightened around the pages gave him away.

Leila stepped closer, her heart hammering. The papers weren't just reports. They were logs. Surveillance timestamps. Transactions. And at the bottom—

Her name.

Her blood ran cold. "They think I'm the leak?"

Jaxon exhaled, eyes gleaming with something she couldn't quite name. "Not think, sweetheart. They're convinced."

Leila turned to Cassius, a sharp pang of betrayal twisting in her gut. "You don't actually believe this, do you?"

Cassius's dark gaze found hers, locking her in place. He was silent for a long moment, the weight of his stare heavier than words.

Then—

"No."

One word. Steady. Unshaken.

A breath she hadn't realized she was holding escaped her lips, but Jaxon wasn't done.

"That's cute," he mused, tapping his fingers against the armrest. "But not everyone's as trusting as you, Beaumont. Whoever set this up, they don't just want Leila out of the game."

Leila swallowed hard. "Then what do they want?"

Jaxon shaped his fingers like a gun and mock-fired.

The air in the penthouse shifted.

Cassius didn't react—not outwardly. But something in the room changed. His presence, already powerful, became suffocating. The kind of quiet that preceded a storm.

When he finally spoke, his voice was like steel wrapped in velvet.

"Who else knows?"

Jaxon's smirk faded. "Right now? Just us. But it won't stay that way for long."

Cassius rolled his watch over his wrist, his only tell that he was calculating his next move. "Then we control the narrative."

Jaxon chuckled lowly. "Oh, I do love a man with a plan."

Leila, however, wasn't laughing. "So what's the plan? We just sit here and wait for whoever set me up to make their move?"

Cassius turned to her, something lethal glinting in his eyes. "No."

He reached into his desk drawer, pulled out a sleek, untraceable phone, and with a few precise taps, sent a message.

Jaxon leaned forward, interest flickering in his gaze. "Calling in the big guns already?"

Cassius ignored him.

Leila folded her arms. "Who did you just text?"

Cassius met her gaze.

"The only person who can give us answers."

A sharp knock echoed through the room.

Cassius pressed a button on the intercom. "You're early."

A voice—smooth, amused—filtered through the speakers.

"You said it was urgent."

Leila's heart skipped.

She knew that voice.

The penthouse doors slid open.

Standing there, looking like he never left, dressed in a tailored suit and carrying an air of effortless danger, was the last person she expected.

Alexander Wolfe.

Cassius's former right-hand man.

And the one person who had disappeared right before everything went to hell.