Liam stood still, watching the door where Elena had disappeared. He could still feel the warmth of her lips against his, but he forced his attention back to Victor, who had remained silent throughout the entire exchange.

“I’m not even going to question what just happened there,” Victor said, his voice flat. “We’ve got more urgent matters to address.”

Liam's jaw tightened. Part of him wanted to dismiss the kiss as foolishness, but that explanation didn't sit easily with what he'd felt. He could still remember the surprise in Elena's expression and the way she'd responded without hesitation. For a moment, he wanted to follow her—to find her in the hall and finish what the interruption had stopped.

“Eros.” Victor's voice brought his attention back. Liam turned toward him, the moment disappearing behind the expression he wore for business.

“What about it?”

"Another shipment. The whole batch." Victor stepped closer, his broad frame blocking the doorway, his face grim. "The new stable, pure batch we had locked down. Raided and gone."

The air in the room seemed to thicken. Liam's mind clicked into gear, shifting from the warmth of the kiss to the cold calculus of loss. "All of it?"

"Every vial. We had it in a secondary warehouse—off the books, tight security. Someone knew exactly where to hit."

Liam exhaled slowly, running a hand over his jaw, feeling the stubble there. He'd had the stable batch moved after the last incident, after the laced bedding. It was supposed to be safe. "Why would they steal it?" he asked, more to himself than to Victor. “The compound is valuable, sure, but stealing a pure batch like that isn't the obvious play. They didn't take whatever was available. They took the one batch we'd spent six months stabilizing. Anyone who moves it leaves a trail. What's the play?"

Victor shook his head. "I've got a few ideas, but nothing solid. Could be someone wants to flood the market, create chaos. Could be someone wants to weaponize it—use it on the right people, make problems for us."

Liam's mind was already racing ahead. He needed to think, to map the angles. "Study. Now."

He strode out of the game room, not waiting to see if Victor followed. The manor's main hall had evening light passing through the windows, but Liam's steps were sure, his focus narrowing.

By the time he reached the study on the second floor, his mind was already working through possibilities. He crossed to the large desk that dominated the room, flipping on the overhead light, then opened a drawer and pulled out a rolled map. He spread it across the desk's surface—a detailed grid of the city, marked with coded notations he'd made over years of business. Beside it, he placed a stack of clear plastic sheets and a fine-tipped marker.

Victor followed, closing the door behind him. "The warehouse was here." He pointed to a location on the eastern edge of the industrial district. "Off Bannerman Road."

Liam set a clear sheet over the map and marked the spot with a red X. "Time of the raid?"

"About three hours ago. No alarms triggered until after—they had someone inside, or they knew the system well enough to bypass it."

"Guards?"

"Two on rotation. Both found unconscious, no signs of forced entry. They were drugged."

Liam's marker paused. "With what?" Eros wouldn’t have that kind of effect.

"Low-grade sedative. Nothing connected to the Eros—different compound entirely. They didn't use the product to take the product."

“Professional,” Liam murmured, writing a note on the clear sheet. “Too clean. This wasn't a smash-and-grab. This was a planned extraction.”

He marked the other locations on the map—the site of the previous hit, the club where the shipment had been headed, and the manor itself. He drew lines between them, studying the connections. “The batch was also destined for the Velvet Rope. Hart's club.”

“That’s what the paperwork says,” Victor confirmed. “But whether Hart knew about the raid, or whether it was taken from under his nose—we don't know yet.”

Liam leaned over the desk, studying the map. The lines formed a rough triangle: the warehouse, the club, and a third point he marked with a question mark.

“A job this clean takes resources,” he said. “Transportation. Storage. Someone who knows how to move product without drawing attention.”

Victor nodded. “Any of the families could manage that.”

“Could.” Liam tapped the marker against the desk. “The Sterns have the infrastructure. Factories, warehouses, transport. If someone wanted to move a shipment this size without attracting attention, they'd have the means.”

“But no reason to take ours.”

“Not necessarily.” Liam looked back at the map. “They have their own supply chains. Their own labs. Stealing ours would only make sense if they wanted something they couldn't get themselves.”

“Maybe the formula,” Victor offered. “Reverse-engineer it.”

“Maybe.” Liam set down the marker and straightened. “But the stable batch took us six months to perfect. Even with the compound in hand, replicating it isn't simple.”

He tapped the clear sheet again, his gaze moving between the warehouse and the club.

“Or maybe they're not after the product at all. Maybe someone wants to hit one of our largest revenue streams. Hit us where it hurts.”

“I've got feelers out,” Victor said. “But the streets are quiet. No one's reporting anything unusual.”

Liam's marker paused over the map. “Start with the Sterns.”

Victor looked at him. “You think they're involved?”

“I think they have the means.” Liam kept his gaze on the map. “Find out if they've moved anything unusual through their network. Shipments, warehouses, personnel. Anything that doesn't fit.”

“And if nothing turns up?”

“That’s not possible.” Liam tapped the plastic overlay once with the marker. “Nothing ever moves cleanly in this city. Not at this scale.”

Victor waited.

Liam studied the lines again, following them from the warehouse to the club and then back toward the routes feeding the eastern district. “If this were Hart, there should be noise. Payments. Movement. Panic in supply chains. Something.”

He was quiet for a moment, considering the possibilities.

“Then we widen the net,” he said. “I want eyes on every channel tied to the Stern’s operation. Financial, transport, distribution—everything.”

Victor straightened slightly. “That’s going to stretch the network thin.”

“Then stretch it.” Liam didn't look up. He drew a slow line across the map, steady and controlled. “I don't care how many layers it takes or how many informants we need to hire. I want to see the moment anything shifts, even slightly.”

His gaze remained fixed on the grid of streets and marked points. “And when it does, I want to know before it moves twice.”

Liam nodded slowly and picked up the marker again, drawing a circle around the warehouse before adding an arrow toward the club. “Next, we need to know if Hart knows anything. I was planning to confront him at the gala anyway. This just gives me more reason to.”

Victor watched him. “You think he's in on it?”

"I don't see a motive. Hart didn't get where he is by keeping his hands clean, but that doesn't mean he's behind this. Someone close to him could be the leak. We don’t know what kind of part he plays in this yet. And the drugging here was a setup. Someone wanted me distracted, or they wanted Elena compromised."

Victor was quiet for a moment, then glanced toward the door. “You're bringing her to the gala.”

“She's the art consultant,” Liam said. “It's her job.”

Victor's mouth twitched slightly. “Right.”

Liam looked up at him.

“I saw the kiss,” Victor added, his tone remaining casual, almost indifferent. “Didn't look much like part of the job.”

Liam's expression didn't change. “It wasn't. And it has nothing to do with what we're investigating.” He turned back to the map, his attention settling on the marked routes again.

Victor waited a moment before saying, “As long as it doesn't interfere with what we're doing.”

“It won't.”

Victor studied him for another second, then gave a small nod. “Then I don't have a problem with it.”

Liam looked down at the map again. “Good. Then let's keep our attention where it belongs.”

Liam uncapped the marker and drew another line across the map with more force than necessary.

"Now," he said without looking up, "tell me about the shipment."

Victor accepted the dismissal. "Fine. But if Sterns has that Eros, and if they're planning to use it, we need to move fast. The gala is in three days. That's not a lot of time to trace a shipment that's already gone dark."

Liam looked back at the map. The red X stared up at him, a wound on the grid. "We need another angle. Someone on the inside at Stern’s operation. A source who can confirm if the shipment passed through their hands."

"I've got a contact in their distribution chain. Low-level, but reliable. I'll push him tonight."

"Do it. And get me everything you have on Hart before the gala. I want to know who he's meeting, where he's eating, who he's sleeping with."

Victor pulled out his phone, already typing a note. "Anything else?"

Liam was quiet for a moment, his eyes drifting to the edge of the map where the Thorn Manor grounds were marked. Beyond them was the lake, where Elena had spent the afternoon with her friend. The memory of her laugh—soft, tentative, alive—flickered through his mind before he pushed it aside.

“Double the security detail around the manor while I'm at the gala. I want eyes on Elena at all times.”

“You think she's a target?”

“I think someone already drugged her once. I'm not giving them a second chance.”

Victor nodded and finished his note. “I'll make the arrangements.” He turned toward the door, but Liam's voice stopped him.

“Victor.”

“Yes?”

“Don't read more into what you saw.” Liam kept his eyes on the map.

Victor raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

“She serves a purpose,” Liam continued evenly. “I'm simply making sure she continues to serve it.”

Victor regarded him for a long moment before giving a small nod. “If you say so, sir.” Then he left, the door closing softly behind him.

Liam stood alone in the study, the map spread across his desk, the red X marking the raided warehouse stark against the paper. He reached for his phone, his thumb hovering over Elena's contact. One message. Are you okay? He stared at the screen for a moment before locking it and setting the phone face-down without sending it.

Instead, he pulled a small notebook from the drawer and opened it to a clean page. He jotted down a few brief notes—warehouse, Hart, Sterns—then set the notebook aside and picked up the marker again. He drew another line across the clear sheet, adding a question mark over the gala venue, a dotted line toward Hart's club, and a circle around the Sterns.

Work. That was what he needed. Focus.

But even as he plotted the next move, his thoughts kept straying to the one variable he couldn't account for. He traced a route from the raided warehouse to the gala venue with his finger, pressing hard enough that the marker left a dark blot on the plastic. He smoothed the sheet flat, but the indentation remained.

Unless it wasn't external at all.

The thought lingered. His own people. His lieutenants.

Liam's jaw tightened as he considered it. Years of loyalty. Years of trust. Men who had earned their place beside him and stood there when there had been nothing to gain but survival. None of that made them untouchable.

He exhaled slowly and looked back at the map. Control the variables. Control the outcome. Find the breach before it spread any further.

But the pattern still didn't resolve.

He picked up the marker again, his hand hovering over the clear sheet. Without thinking, he moved lower, away from the marked routes and locations. The marker touched the plastic.

Elena Rossi.

The name sat there in dark, precise letters, completely out of place among the geometry of his investigation. A red X for the warehouse. A dotted line toward Hart's club. A circle around Sterns. And her—no connection, no category, no reason she should be there at all.

Liam stared at the name for a long moment. Then he dragged the marker hard across it. The plastic buckled beneath the pressure, the ink pooling into the crease.