Kieran stood at the center of the living room, eyes still restrained though his sharp brows knitted together. His voice emerged low and rough. “Where is my man?”

Between men of insight, few words were needed. Wallace Argent knew exactly who Kieran meant–the man sent to watch over Alarieka Huston’s rental apartment.

His expression remained placid, murky eyes fixed on Kieran’s face as he scrutinized him. “It’s late. I had him rest elsewhere. You’ll see him tomorrow morning.”

Kieran’s gaze turned razor-sharp, his voice dropping lower. “Where did you take Alarieka?”

Before dispatching the guard to Alarieka’s place, Kieran had ordered half-hourly updates to confirm her location.

Tonight, Rose Whitaker clung to him. Trapped by her need–and mindful of her depression and pregnancy–he couldn’t check his phone in her presence. Only after an hour of soothing her to sleep did he finally look.

The last message showed the guard’s arrival at Alarieka’s apartment. Nothing followed.

By now, two updates should’ve come. None did.

Something was wrong.

Kieran knew it instantly. He sent others to investigate the rental apartment. He’d have gone himself, but Rose jolted awake from a nightmare, trembling. He stayed, gentle and calm, avoiding any mention of Alarieka as he steadied her.

Thirty minutes later, his men reported: Alarieka had vanished without a trace. The first guard’s car remained, but the man was gone.

Kieran’s team worked fast. Within ten minutes, they uncovered details about Alarieka’s academic records. Only one person could orchestrate this so swiftly: the grandfather who raised her.

Blame could wait. Finding Alarieka came first.

Nearly two hours had passed. She’d likely fled by transport. Without hesitation, Kieran ordered his subordinates to trace her route and departure time.

He sat rigidly on Rose’s bedside. The room lay dim, lit only by a warm yellow lamp and his phone screen. One hand held the device; the other stayed buried under the blankets, utterly still.

The harsh white light fell on the man’s face, deepening his sharp, cold features. Even the fierceness in his lowered eyes grew more terrifying. His lips pressed into a taut line, the downturned corners betraying his foul mood.

Rose had finally been coaxed to sleep, and he planned to join his subordinates in searching for someone.

After sending a message, he pocketed his phone and tried to slide his hand from beneath the quilt.

But the moment he moved, the sleeping woman whimpered and tightened her grip. The covers slipped slightly, revealing a glimpse beneath.

Kieran’s hand remained hidden under the blankets because Rose had been clutching it–clutching it fiercely.

As a pregnant woman with depression, her emotions were volatile. Lately, he’d indulged her every whim, constantly mindful of her state.

So when Rose insisted on holding his hand to sleep, he agreed.

Nearly an hour passed from their clasped hands to her drifting off.

He gazed down at their intertwined fingers and murmured, “Rose?”

She whimpered softly without opening her eyes.

When he tried pulling away again, Rose jolted awake. Bleary, pitiful eyes fixed on Kieran: “Kieran… leaving?”

He instantly relaxed his hand. “No. Go back to sleep.”

Rose quietly lowered her lashes. “I saw… someone needs you?”

“Something urgent?”

In the dim room, Kieran’s dark eyes softened. “No emergency. Sleep now.”

“Really?”

“Then stay. If you must go… wait till I’m asleep. Please?”

Rose blinked, her head sinking back into the pillow.

Her hopeful gaze clung to him, but the phone vibrating in his pocket screamed of urgency.

Every minute delayed not knowing Alarieka’s whereabouts meant less chance of finding her.

A flicker of anxiety–thin, unconscious–darted through Kieran’s eyes.

Two choices.

Rose’s tearstains still glistened, eyes and nose flushed red. One refusal might shatter her.