The city didn't wait for permission.
London moved the way it always did—ruthless, efficient, indifferent to the private wars being waged behind darkened windows. Cars hissed past on wet pavement. Pedestrians checked phones, laughed, argued, lived.
Amaiyla felt separate from all of it.
She sat in the back seat beside Xander, hands folded too tightly in her lap, staring out the window without seeing anything. Her phone rested face-down, heavy with words she hadn't answered.
I found something.
Connor's message echoed in her head like a warning bell.
Xander broke the silence first.
"Your father didn't expect you to walk out."
Amaiyla let out a shaky breath. "He didn't expect you to stand in front of me."
Xander's jaw tightened. "He underestimated how much I'd already crossed."
She turned toward him. "You could have stayed neutral."
"I stopped believing in neutral the moment he threatened you."
Her chest tightened—not relief, not comfort, but the sharp awareness of consequence.
"That wasn't strategic," she said softly.
Xander met her gaze. "It was deliberate."
The car slowed as it approached the townhouse gates. Security stepped forward immediately—too quickly.
Amaiyla noticed.
"So did Xander.
"That's new," she murmured.
"Yes," Xander replied. "He's tightening access."
The gates opened anyway, but the message was clear.
You're being watched.
Inside, the house felt colder. Not physically—emotionally. As if the walls themselves were waiting for instructions.
Amaiyla dropped her bag by the door. "Connor said he found something."
Xander removed his coat slowly, carefully. "He wouldn't say that unless he was sure."
"Or desperate."
"Both," Xander said. "Which makes him dangerous."
Amaiyla turned sharply. "Connor isn't dangerous."
Xander's expression didn't soften. "Anyone pushed hard enough becomes unpredictable."
"That doesn't make him a threat," she snapped.
Xander's voice remained calm. "It makes him a variable."
The word stung.
Amaiyla crossed her arms. "You talk about people like pieces."
Xander stepped closer—not invading, but refusing distance. "Because pieces survive if you understand the board."
"And what if I don't want to be on the board at all?"
Xander's gaze darkened. "Then you get knocked off it."
Silence fell between them—thick, unresolved.
Amaiyla looked away first.
"I'm not ready to lose him," she said quietly.
Xander's voice lowered. "I know."
The admission surprised her.
Before she could respond, a knock echoed through the house.
Once. Firm. Professional.
Amaiyla's pulse spiked. "Already?"
Xander glanced at his watch. "Faster than expected."
Tammy Veraga stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, heels clicking sharply against the floor like punctuation.
"You're trending," she said lightly. "That's rarely good."
Amaiyla stared. "You track this in real time?"
"I track power shifts," Tammy replied. "Fame is just noise."
She held up her tablet, screen glowing with headlines, speculation, carefully planted doubt.
HOLLINGSWORTH HEIRESS DEFIES FAMILY—REYES HEIR IMPLICATED
Amaiyla's stomach twisted. "They're framing it like I'm unstable."
Tammy nodded. "Classic containment tactic. Undermine credibility before escalation."
Xander's voice was clipped. "What's next?"
Tammy looked at him sharply. "John will attempt to isolate Amaiyla further."
Amaiyla laughed bitterly. "He already tried."
"Yes," Tammy replied. "Privately."
She met Amaiyla's eyes. "Next is public."
Amaiyla's chest tightened. "How?"
Tammy tapped the screen. "By attaching you to scandal. Or incompetence. Or betrayal."
Xander stiffened. "He won't touch her reputation directly."
Tammy arched a brow. "Then he'll touch someone else's."
Amaiyla froze. "Connor."
Tammy didn't deny it.
"That's why Connor reaching out matters," Tammy continued. "He's no longer compliant."
Amaiyla's hands trembled. "What do I do?"
Tammy's gaze sharpened. "You decide who gets access to you."
Xander interjected, "She doesn't need to engage—"
Tammy cut him off. "She needs to choose."
Amaiyla looked between them. "Choose what?"
Tammy spoke carefully. "Whether Connor is someone you protect… or someone you release."
Amaiyla's breath caught. "That's not fair."
"No," Tammy agreed. "But it's reality."
The room fell silent.
Amaiyla's phone buzzed again.
Connor.
She hesitated—then answered.
"Connor?"
His voice came through rough, strained. "You shouldn't have done that."
Amaiyla swallowed. "Done what?"
"Spoken," he said. "He's furious."
"He was already furious."
"Yes," Connor replied. "But now he's afraid."
Amaiyla's heart raced. "What did you find?"
Connor exhaled slowly. "Not proof. Not yet. But a pattern."
"Connor—"
"Your father doesn't move like a man protecting his daughter," Connor continued. "He moves like someone protecting a liability."
Xander went very still.
Amaiyla whispered, "What liability?"
Connor hesitated. "I need time."
Amaiyla's chest tightened. "You don't have time."
"I know," Connor replied. "That's why I called."
Xander stepped closer, voice low. "Connor, if you have something—"
Connor's tone sharpened. "This isn't about you."
Amaiyla flinched.
Connor continued, softer, "I don't want to hurt you."
Amaiyla's voice trembled. "You're already hurting."
Silence crackled through the line.
"I tried to protect you," Connor said quietly. "I think I made you smaller."
Amaiyla closed her eyes. "I don't want you to disappear."
Connor laughed softly. "That might not be my choice anymore."
The call ended.
Amaiyla stood frozen, phone pressed to her ear long after the line went dead.
Xander's hand hovered near her shoulder—then stopped.
"Connor is being cornered," Xander said carefully. "Which means he'll either fold… or strike."
Amaiyla whispered, "And if he strikes?"
Xander's gaze hardened. "Your father will retaliate."
Tammy interjected, "Which is exactly why Amaiyla must move first."
Amaiyla looked at her sharply. "Move how?"
Tammy's voice was calm, but her words were sharp. "You remove yourself as leverage."
Xander's jaw tightened. "That's reckless."
Tammy met his gaze. "It's effective."
Amaiyla's heart pounded. "What does that look like?"
Tammy answered without hesitation. "You go somewhere your father can't touch quietly."
Amaiyla frowned. "Where?"
Tammy's lips curved faintly. "Somewhere very visible."
Xander's voice dropped. "No."
Amaiyla turned to him. "You just told me not to let you decide."
Xander held her gaze, conflict flickering across his face.
"Visibility cuts both ways," he said. "Once you're exposed, I can't control the fallout."
Amaiyla's voice steadied. "You're not supposed to."
Xander inhaled slowly. "Then I need to know one thing."
"What?"
"Are you doing this because you're afraid," he asked quietly, "or because you're ready?"
Amaiyla didn't answer immediately.
She thought of Connor's voice.Her father's threat.The cameras.The silence.
"I'm doing it," she said, "because I refuse to be trained by fear."
Xander studied her—really studied her—for a long moment.
Then he nodded once.
"Then I'm with you," he said. "Not in front of you. Not behind you."
Tammy smiled faintly. "Good. Because the next move will hurt."
Amaiyla let out a breath. "When does it start?"
Tammy checked her watch. "It already has."
Outside, a car idled longer than necessary.
Across the city, John Hollingsworth watched a screen filled with speculation, fury simmering behind his eyes.
And somewhere else entirely, Connor Jackson sat alone, staring at files that didn't quite fit—dates misaligned, names that reappeared too often, transactions that didn't match public records.
He whispered to the empty room, "You lied."
Not yet proof.
But close enough to terrify a powerful man.
Amaiyla stood in the center of it all, heart racing, spine straight.
The war wasn't coming.
It had arrived.
And this time, she wasn't the prize.
She was the pressure point.