Kiera didn't sleep.
Not because she was afraid of Alistair coming through the door — Kade's security had tripled, armed patrols now circling the building like quiet sentinels — but because something had shifted inside her.
The photos weren't just threats.
They were proof.
Proof that Alistair had personally authorized surveillance. Proof that he was close enough to panic. Proof that his empire was no longer untouchable.
Fear no longer lived in her chest.
Strategy did.
By morning, Kiera was already dressed, hair pulled back, eyes sharp with purpose. Kade found her in the kitchen staring at a digital map of the city.
"You're planning something," he said.
"I'm finishing something," she replied.
He crossed his arms. "Talk to me."
"He showed me his reach," Kiera said. "Now I show him exposure."
Kade's jaw tightened. "You want to leak the photos."
"Not the images," she said. "The method."
He studied her. "Explain."
