Catherine’s sarcasm did not need volume to be effective; it settled into the space with quiet precision, striking exactly where it was meant to. Chad’s head snapped toward her, irritation flaring instantly across his face as he tried to reassert control over a situation that had already slipped beyond him.

"Who are you?" he demanded, his voice rough, edged with the kind of anger that came too easily to a man used to getting his way through force.

Catherine did not answer at once. Instead, she tilted her head ever so slightly, her gaze resting on him with a calm, almost clinical detachment, as though she were deciding whether he was worth the effort of a response at all. That pause stretched just long enough to unsettle, just long enough to make his irritation falter into something less certain.

Before she could speak, the air beside her shifted.

Maximilian stepped forward with a quiet authority that changed the entire atmosphere. Chad faltered mid-breath, the remnants of his bravado slipping as his eyes met Maximilian’s. There were no threats, no raised voices, only that controlled stillness in his expression, something measured and dangerous in its restraint, the kind that suggested consequences rather than chaos.

It was enough. More than enough. He had moved with gangsters. He knew a top dog when he saw one. And like the beta who only knew how to raise his hands against helpless women, he stepped back.

Catherine noticed, and instead of softening, she leaned into it.

A faint curve touched her lips, not amusement, but something colder, more deliberate. "You don’t need to know who I am," she said at last, her voice smooth, composed, leaving no room for interruption. "But you should understand something very clearly."

Her gaze flickered briefly toward Bernice, and for that single moment, it softened, just enough to reveal what lay beneath her anger, before it hardened again as it returned to Chad, and then to his mother.

"She’s not yours to use."

The words were simple, but they did not feel light.

They carried weight, conviction—because Catherine meant every one of them.

"And," she continued, her attention settling back on Chad, "kidnapping is not something that can be brushed aside. What’s the usual sentence, Mr. Wesley?"

"At least five years, if he pleads guilty," Duncan replied evenly.

Catherine’s brows drew together slightly, not in confusion, but in quiet dissatisfaction. "Only five?" she asked, the question slipping out before she could temper it. The idea sat poorly with her—the notion that someone could do this, reduce a person to leverage, and walk away with so little consequence.

Her mind flickered, unbidden, to harsher systems, like gallows, that delivered swift justice. It was what she could get behind; to justice that did not hesitate or soften itself for the sake of civility. She did not voice those thoughts; she had learned long ago how people reacted to them. Still, the feeling lingered—a sharp, unyielding edge beneath her composure.

"I really want to tear his limbs apart for scaring her," she said instead, her tone quieter now but no less intense. Her eyes shifted back to Bernice, who stood close to Sebastian, still shaken, still clinging to him as if she might fall otherwise. "If only she had stayed where I left her, she would have been safe..."

Bernice lowered her head, guilt settling over her like a weight she did not know how to shake.

Catherine scoffed softly, not at her, but at the situation, at the inevitability of it all. Then she turned back to Chad, her focus sharpening again.

Maximilian’s hand came to rest at her lower back, a steady, grounding touch that did not restrain her but reminded her she was not alone in this. The warmth of it softened the tightness in her shoulders, and she let out a slow breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding.

When she lifted her hand and pointed at Chad, the gesture was small, but unmistakable.

It was enough to provoke.

"Who do you think you are, you—" his mother began, stepping forward with fury rising in her voice.

She didn’t get far.

Duncan moved with swift precision, catching her arm mid-motion and twisting it just enough to force her down onto her knees. The movement was controlled, efficient, leaving no room for resistance as she hit the dirty floor with a gasp.

Catherine approached her slowly, her expression composed once more, though the coldness in her eyes had only deepened.

"You don’t need to speak to me that way," she said evenly. "Or should I call you the dealer from Thirteenth Street?"

The woman froze.

Catherine’s gaze did not waver. "And if memory serves me right," she continued, almost conversationally, "the loan sharks you owe are not particularly patient. Neither are the people you snitched against. Even prison might not actually be a safer option for you."

That was enough to silence her, if only for a moment.

But desperation had a way of pushing past fear.

"You can send us to prison," the woman shot back, her voice shaking but defiant. "But they all know who my daughter is."

The implication hung in the air, ugly and unmistakable.

Catherine’s expression did not change, but something in Maximilian’s grip at her back tightened, just slightly.

Before she could respond, Sebastian stepped forward.

"We’ll take care of that... mother," he said.

’Mother’

The word carried no warmth. No respect. It landed sharp, deliberate, stripping the title of everything it should have meant.

The woman flinched. Not physically, but in the way her expression faltered, as though something had struck deeper than she expected.

At the same moment, Chad made his move.

He lunged toward the exit, seizing the smallest window of distraction. He didn’t make it far.

Maximilian intercepted him with a movement so fluid it barely registered before it happened, a swift turn, a controlled shift of weight, and then a clean, precise strike that sent Chad crashing back before he could even regain balance.

Catherine blinked, her attention snapping to the motion, a flicker of something unexpected, almost impressed, cutting cleanly through the anger that had been simmering inside her.

For a moment, just a moment, everything else fell away.

Because that roundhouse kick... was undeniably well done.

"Look at you..." she murmured, stepping toward him, her fingers reaching up to straighten the lapel of his jacket as if the violence of a second ago hadn’t just unfolded before them.

But the gesture lingered.

A little too long.

Maximilian’s gaze dropped to her, and something in his expression shifted the instant he truly looked. The faint flush on her skin, the way her breath had deepened, the subtle way her tongue brushed over her lower lip before she caught herself...

Her eyes gave her away.

They lingered on him, tracing, assessing, but not with curiosity.

With hunger.

It was unmistakable.

Right here. In the middle of this chaos.

Catherine didn’t step back.

If anything, she stood closer than she needed to, her fingers still resting lightly against his chest, her gaze flickering once more to his lips before lifting back to his eyes. There was a quiet boldness in it, something that hadn’t been there before, or perhaps something she was no longer trying to hide.

Maximilian exhaled slowly, his jaw tightening just slightly as he tried to steady himself.

This was neither the time nor the place.

And yet... his hand moved before the thought could fully form. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝙚𝔀𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝒐𝒎

It came up to the back of her neck, firm, sure, his fingers curling just enough to hold, not to restrain, but to guide.

And then he pulled her closer.

Catherine gasped softly, the sound slipping out before she could stop it as her body followed the motion, her balance tipping forward until she was right there, barely a breath away from him.

Her lips parted.

And instead of pulling away... she smiled. The smile was not wide, there was no teasing undertone to it. The smile was something softer... shyer... But no less certain.

Like a call...

It lingered on her lips, her eyes lowering for a fraction of a second before lifting again, meeting his with a quiet, unspoken understanding that settled between them like heat.

She didn’t move.

Didn’t break the distance.

If anything, she leaned into it just slightly, her fingers curling faintly against his jacket, as though testing how far she could go before he stopped her.

Or if he even would.

And in that suspended moment, with tension coiling tighter between them, it became painfully clear... this wasn’t just impulse.

It was something that had been building for far too long.

Sebastian cleared his throat. "Let’s not film adult content here..." he said, pointing at the roof.

And there... a faint red light blinked.

A camera.

Maximilian immediately pulled Catherine against his chest and looked up, his expression sharpening. Catherine, however, was far too flustered to meet anyone’s gaze; the realization of it all had completely thrown her off balance.

Sebastian walked over and yanked the camera out without hesitation.

Outside, Dorian’s grip on the iPad tightened until the screen fractured beneath his fingers. The image froze on Catherine looking up at Maximilian. So close... So in love...

"Drive," he ordered.

Back on the ship, Maximilian rushed out onto the deck the moment he heard the sound of a car pulling away. Sebastian followed close behind.

"Dorian Blackwood..." Maximilian murmured.

And then his lips slowly curved into a smirk.