Bill Franklin slowed as he approached the entrance of his estate, the memory of the matte-black SUVs still lingering at the edge of his thoughts. His eyes swept the perimeter out of instinct—gated driveway, hedges, shadows.
Nothing.
Just the long stretch of empty road and fading afternoon light.
Yet the silence didn’t feel normal. It pressed against him, heavy and wrong.
A cold prickle crept up his neck. He dismissed it at once.
Paranoia, he told himself. Nothing but the adrenaline of the chase.
Damien Blackwood didn’t waste time with noise. Whatever had followed him earlier wasn’t a threat—it was enforcement. A silent command to fall back into place.
That thought steadied him.
Fine.
If they wanted him out, he would leave—but on his terms.
He continued toward the estate, forcing
