Alexander Voss didn't trust silence.
Especially not the kind that settled after chaos.
The penthouse was quiet again, but not calm. Cynthia had fallen asleep on the couch in the inner lounge, exhaustion finally claiming her after the emotional strain of Julianne's visit. Alexander stood by the window, arms crossed, eyes scanning the city like it might blink first.
That was when his phone vibrated.
He didn't look at it immediately.
He already knew who it was.
Evan never called unless it mattered.
Alexander stepped into his office and closed the door before answering. "Talk."
"There's a leak," Evan continued. "Inside your circle. Not the company—closer than that."
The words landed hard.
Alexander leaned his hand against the desk, knuckles whitening. "How sure are you?"
"I intercepted a signal," Evan said. "Encrypted. Old channel. One we used back then."
The past stirred—dark, unwelcome.
"Someone used my clearance?" Alexander asked.
"No," Evan said. "They used yours."
Silence stretched between them.
"That's impossible," Alexander said slowly. "Only three people ever had—"
"—access," Evan finished. "I know. And two of them are dead."
Alexander closed his eyes briefly.
"Which leaves one," he said.
"Yes."
Alexander exhaled through his nose, cold and controlled. "Who?"
Evan hesitated. "I don't have confirmation yet. But someone close to your operations tipped the gang about your new job. About your movements. About… her."
Alexander's blood went cold.
"Cynthia is not part of this," he said sharply.
"She is now," Evan replied gently. "Whether you like it or not."
Alexander said nothing.
"I think," Evan continued, "that whoever it is assumed Cynthia Brooks was leverage. When that failed… they made an example of Lydia West."
Alexander's hand curled into a fist.
"Then they escalated," Evan said. "The shot this morning? That wasn't random. It was a message."
Alexander's voice dropped. "To scare me."
"And to see how far you'd go to protect her," Evan added. "You brought her into your penthouse. That wasn't subtle."
"I didn't have a choice," Alexander snapped.
"You always have a choice," Evan said. "You just don't always like them."
Alexander looked through the glass wall of his office. Cynthia lay curled on the couch, asleep, unaware of how close danger hovered around her.
"She's not bait," Alexander said quietly. "She's not a tool."
"I know," Evan said. "That's why this is working."
Alexander closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them, resolve hardening. "Find the traitor."
"I am," Evan said. "But until then, trust no one. Not staff. Not security. Not even—"
"—Ethan," Alexander finished.
Evan paused. "You noticed."
"He's too clean," Alexander said. "Too eager. And he came in right after I took the job."
"Exactly," Evan said. "Doesn't mean it's him. But it means he's worth watching."
Alexander nodded once. "What about Mr. Heathcliff?"
"Loyal," Evan said immediately. "Proved it years ago."
Alexander relaxed slightly at that.
"And Cynthia?" Evan asked carefully. "What's the plan?"
Alexander glanced at her again.
"She stays with me," he said without hesitation. "Until this ends."
Evan exhaled slowly. "You're risking everything."
"I already have," Alexander replied. "The moment they touched someone innocent."
Another pause.
"They'll come again," Evan said. "Soon. And next time, it won't be a warning."
Alexander's gaze hardened. "Let them."
"Alexander—"
"I won't run," he said coldly. "And I won't sacrifice her to protect myself."
Evan sighed. "You always did have a hero complex."
"No," Alexander said. "I have a line. And they crossed it."
"I'll dig deeper," Evan said. "If I go quiet, assume I'm compromised."
Alexander nodded. "And Evan?"
"Yes?"
"Be careful."
A beat of silence.
"You too," Evan replied, and ended the call.
Alexander stood there for a moment longer, letting the weight of it settle. A traitor. Someone close. Someone trusted.
That was worse than the gang itself.
He stepped out of the office quietly.
Cynthia stirred as he approached, eyes fluttering open. "You're still awake."
"Yes," he said softly, sitting beside her. "Go back to sleep."
She studied his face, sensing the shift. "Something happened."
"Nothing you need to worry about," he said.
She frowned. "You always say that."
"And you never listen," he replied gently.
She hesitated, then asked, "Am I making this harder for you?"
Alexander didn't answer right away.
Then, honestly: "You're the reason I won't lose."
Her breath caught.
He reached for a blanket and pulled it over her, careful, protective. "Sleep," he said. "I'll keep watch."
As her eyes closed again, Alexander stared into the shadows of the penthouse, mind racing.
The gang was closing in.
There was a traitor in his midst.
And Cynthia Brooks—soft, brave, stubborn Cynthia—was now the one thing he could not afford to lose.
Not this time.