My Housekeeper’s Three-Year-Old Daughter Dragged a Suitcase Into My Meeting—Then She Pointed at the Man Who Planted the Access Card.

"Damon! Behind you!" Marcus yelled.

Marcus fired two rapid shots through the glass balcony door. The bullet shattered the thick glass, forcing the armed assassin to dive sideways onto the wet terrace tiles to avoid the fire.

In the split second of chaos, Caleb Ross threw himself toward the broken balcony door, scrambling out into the pouring rain to join his accomplice.

"Marcus, secure the house!" Damon commanded, vaulting over his massive mahogany desk and leaping through the shattered glass door out onto the wet terrace.

The desert rain was cold and heavy, stinging against Damon’s face as he pursued the two figures across the slippery marble balcony. The assassin turned, firing two silenced shots that ricocheted off the stone balustrade near Damon’s feet.

Damon didn't flinch. He lunged forward, tackling the assassin to the ground with overwhelming physical force. The silenced weapon clattered over the edge of the balcony, dropping two stories into the garden bushes below.

Damon pinned the assassin to the wet tiles with one hand, pulling off the man’s tactical mask.

The face underneath belonged to one of Victor Vance’s personal bodyguards from New York.

"Where is Victor?" Damon growled, his dark eyes burning with lethal intent.

The assassin coughed, wiping rain from his face, but refused to speak.

Down in the driveway below, the roar of a high-powered engine echoed through the storm. Caleb Ross had reached a black sedan parked near the side gate and was accelerating rapidly down the winding driveway toward the main road.

Marcus appeared on the balcony beside Damon, holding a long-range tactical rifle. "I have a shot on his tires, boss."

"No," Damon ordered, standing up and adjusting his wet black shirt. "Let him go."

Marcus looked at him in surprise. "Let him go?"

"Caleb is terrified," Damon explained, his voice cold and analytical. "He thinks he’s escaping to safety. He will head straight to Victor Vance’s safehouse downtown to demand his exit payment and a fake passport. He’s going to lead us right to Victor."

Damon turned back toward the study, walking through the rain. "Call the mobile strike team. Get the armored sedans ready."

Ten minutes later, Damon returned to the third-floor master suite.

Selena was standing near the fireplace, holding a heavy brass poker in her hands, her heart pounding as she waited. When she saw Damon enter—his black shirt soaked with rain, his dark hair damp, but entirely unharmed—she let out a breathless gasp of relief and dropped the poker onto the hearth.

"Damon! Are you alright?" Selena asked, rushing over to him.

Damon stepped back slightly so his wet clothes wouldn't ruin her dress. "The house is secure, Selena. The intruders have been cleared from the grounds."

He looked over at little Ruby, who was sitting up in the middle of the large bed, rubbing her eyes sleepily, her small pink suitcase sitting safely at the foot of the mattress.

Damon walked over to his dresser, pulling out a small, velvet-lined wooden box. He opened it, revealing a thick gold medallion stamped with the crest of the Reyes family.

He walked over to Selena and placed the heavy gold medallion into her palm.

"What is this?" Selena asked, looking up at him.

"That medallion grants you and Ruby lifetime protection under my name," Damon said softly, his dark eyes holding hers with unbroken sincerity. "No matter what happens tonight, no one in the syndicate will ever dare question your place in this house again."