Page 41 of The Sentinel

“From a friend,” the man said, then turned and disappeared into the crowd.

I blinked, pulse kicking up.

Marcus was watching me carefully. “What is it?”

I turned the envelope over in my hands. No return address. No markings. Just my name.

“I don’t know.”

I could feel Diego brimming with curiosity beside me, but Marcus’s gaze was unreadable, his jaw tight. He didn’t like this.

Hell, I didn’t like it either.

I swallowed, shoving the envelope into my clutch. “Let’s get out of here.”

The short driveback to the hotel was tense.

Diego, of course, didn’t seem to notice. He stretched out in the back seat, sipping from a bottle of still-chilled champagne Marcus had in the car, humming to himself like this was just another night.

I, on the other hand, was hyper-aware of Marcus in the driver’s seat. The way his hands gripped the wheel, the way his sleeves were still pushed up from earlier, exposing the strong lines of his forearms. The way he glanced at me every so often, sharp and assessing, like he was trying to read my mind.

I kept my clutch pressed against my lap, the weight of the envelope burning through the fabric.

By the time we pulled up to The Palmetto Rose, I was ready to escape.

Diego was already halfway out of the car before ithad fully stopped, stretching with a groan. “Well, that was an evening.”

I slid out after him, smoothing my dress. “Understatement of the year.”

Diego yawned, shooting me a knowing look. “Are we having a debrief, or am I being abandoned for broody billionaire time?”

I rolled my eyes. “Go to bed, Diego.”

He grinned, giving me an exaggerated kiss on the cheek before sauntering toward the elevator. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” he called over his shoulder.

Marcus was still watching me from where he leaned against the car.

I crossed my arms once more. “You don’t have to stand there like my personal security detail.”

His gaze darkened. “Someone handed you an unmarked envelope outside Dominion Hall, Claire. Forgive me for not liking that.”

I exhaled, pressing a hand to my temple. “I’m fine.”

Marcus didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push.

I turned and headed inside, the cool air of the lobby washing over me. The late hour had thinned the crowd—just a few lingering guests near the bar, the receptionist giving me a polite nod as I stepped into the elevator.

It wasn’t until I reached my suite that I knew something was wrong.

The moment I stepped inside, every instinct went on high alert.

Nothing was out of place. No broken locks, no forced entry. But I knew.

The air felt different.

Slightly off.

Like someone had been here.

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