Page 100 of He Knows When You're Awake

“Or it’s a bomb,” Knox says bluntly. “Don’t get tunnel vision, Cole. Julian doesn’t just want you to show up. He wants you to die doing it.”

I watch them disappear into the shadows around the estate. Professionals doing what they do best. But they don’t know Julian like I do. Don’t know the darkness he’s capable of. Don’t know how many lives he’s destroyed while maintaining that perfect, polished smile.

I check my watch one last time. Almost dawn.

Time to end this.

My earpiece crackles. “Team One in position. First guard neutralized.”

“Team Two,” comes another voice. “East perimeter secure.”

I don’t respond. They’re not talking to me anyway. I’m already moving toward the house, keeping to the shadows of the manicured garden.

I spot the first Russian before he sees me—a hulking figurepatrolling the rear entrance. His partner is nowhere in sight. Sloppy. Julian’s standards are slipping.

The man reaches for his radio, probably checking in with his missing comrade. That’s when Knox’s team strikes—quick, efficient, silent. The man is subdued without a sound. I continue toward the house.

Through the kitchen window, I can see two more of Julian’s men hurriedly loading cases into the waiting SUV. Sloane’s designs. My jaw tightens, but I force myself to stay focused. The designs can be replaced. Sloane can’t.

The first floor is empty except for one guard, who Knox’s team has already restrained and secured.

I pause at the base of the grand staircase, listening. There—voices from the study. Julian’s voice, then Sloane’s. The relief of hearing her alive nearly makes me miss the sound of footsteps behind me.

I spin just as the fourth Russian emerges from the shadows, weapon already raised. I dive for cover as his shot goes wide, splintering the wooden banister beside me. Before either of us can fire again, one of Knox’s team appears and subdues the man with a precise takedown. The Russian slumps to the floor, unconscious. I nod gratefully to Knox’s team member as I step over the incapacitated guard.

Knox’s voice buzzes in my earpiece. “Status?”

“I’m in,” I breathe, keeping my voice low. “Proceeding to target.”

“We’ve got movement at the east entrance,” Knox reports. “Two more hostiles loading cases into a vehicle.”

“Let them,” I say. “Sloane first.”

I make my way down the corridor, staying close to the wall. The gunshot will have alerted Julian. The element of surprise is gone. But so is his patience. He’ll be desperate now, dangerous. And Sloane is caught in the middle.

Drawing a deep breath, I steady myself.

Julian’s been waiting all night for this moment, orchestrating every detail. I step into the study, the same one where I first met Claire five years ago. Where I watched her show Julian her latest designs, desperate for his approval. Where I stood, three months later, as the police asked their careful questions about her accident.

“I was starting to think you weren’t coming.” Julian’s voice drifts from the back of the room. Calm. Controlled. A perfect host welcoming an expected guest.

I follow his voice, each step measured. Not rushing. Not giving him the satisfaction of seeing me desperate.

Julian stands by the fireplace, drink in hand, looking for all the world like this is a casual social call. And there, in one of the leather wingback chairs, is Sloane. Her wrists are bound with what looks like one of Julian’s Italian silk ties. Her eyes meet mine, and the relief I see there nearly breaks my control.

“Where’s the rest of it?” I ask, keeping my voice level.

Julian takes a slow sip of his drink. “The designs? Already gone. Being authenticated as we speak. Claire’s final collection... it’s really quite poetic when you think about it.”

I check my watch. Time to stick to Knox’s plan.

“You know what’s funny, Julian?” I take a step deeper into the room. “You’ve spent years trying to destroy me. My company. My reputation. But you never quite managed it.”

“And now I have.” His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Everything you’ve built with her—the designs, the publicity, the perfect power couple—it all becomes part of Claire’s legacy instead. Fitting, don’t you think?”

Three minutes left.

“You still don’t get it.” I take another step. “You’re so focused on the past, on what you think you lost, that you can’t see what’s right in front of you.”