Chapter Eight: The First Warning
The message arrived just before dawn.
No alarms.
No explosions.
No chaos.
Just a single envelope placed neatly on the front hall table—inside a house that was never breached.
Royalty stared at it in silence.
"That's impossible," Luca said. "No one gets past—"
"They didn't," Royalty replied calmly. Too calmly. "They wanted us to know they could."
He opened the envelope.
Inside was a photo.
Feifei.
Standing at the greenhouse window.
Taken from outside the property.
Royalty didn't blink. But something in his eyes went cold and lethal.
"Lock the house down," he said. "Full protocol. No one in or out."
Luca hesitated. "And Feifei?"
Royalty folded the photo carefully. "She doesn't leave my sight."
Feifei was halfway through breakfast when Royalty entered the room.
She looked up—and immediately knew something was wrong.
"What happened?" she asked.
He didn't answer. He walked straight to her, took her wrist gently but firmly, and pulled her to her feet.
"We're moving rooms," he said.
Her heart skipped. "Why?"
"Because someone has been watching you."
The room went silent.
Feifei's breath caught. "Watching me… how?"
Royalty didn't soften it. "Close enough to take pictures."
Fear flickered in her chest—but it didn't settle there. Something else replaced it. Anger. Focus.
"So it's not just you anymore," she said. "It's me too."
His jaw tightened. "It's you because of me."
They walked quickly through the halls. Guards doubled. Doors sealed. The mansion no longer felt luxurious—it felt like a fortress preparing for war.
He led her into a new room. Smaller. Reinforced. Hidden.
"You'll stay here," he said. "Until I end this."
Feifei crossed her arms. "You don't get to decide that alone."
His eyes snapped to hers. "This isn't a debate."
"No," she said evenly. "It's my life."
The words hit harder than any threat.
Royalty stepped closer, lowering his voice. "They're using you to get to me."
"Then let me help," she said. "I won't be your weakness."
Silence stretched.
Then he reached out, resting his hands on her shoulders—not possessive. Not teasing. Protective.
"You don't understand how dangerous this is," he said quietly. "If they take you—"
"They won't," she interrupted. "Because I'm not running. And I'm not hiding while you bleed for me."
His breath shifted.
"You trust me?" she asked softly.
He held her gaze for a long moment.
Then—slowly—he nodded.
"Stay close," he said. "Do exactly what I say."
A faint smile touched her lips. "I already do."
That night, as the mansion slept lightly under armed watch, a second message arrived—this time digital.
One sentence.
You're distracted. And she looks better scared.
Royalty crushed the device in his hand.