Page 128 of Knot Heirs: Serenity's Reign

As the car pulled into midday traffic, Darius stared out at the city—his city—with narrowed eyes. Skyscrapers reflected the winter sunlight, crowds moved along sidewalks, all oblivious to the predator in their midst whose territory had been violated.

Because that's what this felt like—violation. An intrusion. A threat.

"She's fine," he muttered to himself, running a hand through his immaculate dark hair. "She overslept. Her phone died. She's working from home."

But the excuses rang hollow even to his own ears. Serenity wasn't careless. She was calculating, meticulous—traits he both admired and found challenging. The stubborn Omega had fought him on every front since discovering her inheritance, refusing to be cowed despite the biological imperative that should have made her yield to his dominance.

The car swerved around a delivery truck, earning angry honks.

"Faster," Darius ordered, ignoring the driver's concerned glance in the rearview mirror.

His phone buzzed. He snatched it up, hope flaring before he recognized his head of security's number.

"Report," he answered.

"No unusual activity at the perimeter, sir. No breach of security protocols in the last twenty-four hours. The Vale woman's biometrics haven't registered at any exit point."

A fraction of tension eased from his shoulders. "Keep searching the feeds. I want to know the last time she was seen on camera."

"Sir, with respect—she's probably just sleeping in. You did say she was working late on those Vale portfolio assessments and?—"

"Did I ask for your opinion?" Darius's voice dropped to a dangerous whisper.

"No, sir. I'll have that footage immediately."

The car weaved through traffic, taking corners too sharply, reflecting his inner turmoil. Part of him—the rational, calculating CEO—knew he was overreacting. Serenity was a grown woman, not some fragile possession. But another part—the Alpha who'd scented her that first meeting and recognized something primordial and inevitable—was operating on pure, territorial instinct.

He'd kill anyone who touched her. The thought came with such clarity that it momentarily startled him. The depth of his possessiveness toward Serenity had snuck up on him, coiling around his heart and squeezing until rationality took a back seat to primal need.

"Three minutes out, sir," the driver announced.

Darius nodded, his gaze locked on the approaching silhouette of his penthouse building. If she wasn't there, he'd tear the city apart brick by brick. If someone had taken her, had laid hands on what was his...

The familiar cold calculation that had made him the most feared Alpha on the East Coast settled over him like armor. The Castellano empire hadn't maintained dominance for generations by showing mercy to those who crossed them.

And Serenity Vale—brilliant, defiant, golden-eyed Serenity—had somehow become the one line no one was permitted to cross.

The car hadn't fully stopped before Darius was out the door, striding across the private underground garage with measured steps that belied the storm raging within. His security team flanked him, their movements precise and watchful, but he hardly registered their presence.

The elevator ride was seventeen seconds of controlled agony.

"Serenity?" His voice echoed through the marble foyer as he burst through the penthouse door, tossing his suit jacket onto a nearby chair. The silence that greeted him made his jaw clench.

The living room was empty. Kitchen, untouched. His office doors stood open, revealing nothing but the skyline through floor-to-ceiling windows. Each vacant space heightened the tension coiling in his shoulders.

"Serenity!" he called again, moving with purpose down the hallway, throwing open doors in his path.

A faint scent caught his attention—the unmistakable honeyed amber of her, but with an unfamiliar bitter edge that made his nostrils flare. He followed it like a predator tracking prey, until he reached his bedroom door.

There, tangled in his Egyptian cotton sheets, was Serenity.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," he growled, relief and irritation colliding in his chest. "Half my organization on high alert, and you're here taking a goddamn nap?"

He stalked toward the bed, his footsteps heavy against the hardwood.

"I call you six times, Vale. Six. No answer. You don't show for our quarterly review meeting. No call, no message." He loomed over the bed now, glaring down at her still form. "Do you have any idea?—"

The words died in his throat as he took in her appearance. Her brown hair lay matted against her forehead, damp with sweat. The golden eyes that challenged him daily remained closed, her usually expressive face slack except for the occasional wince. Her breathing came in shallow, labored gasps.

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