“Hey, old man,” I say after entering his hospital room.

He looks up and exhales.

“How did you end up in here?” I ask, and sit down on the chair.

“I don't know,” he replies shortly.

“Well, this is something new,” I say, amused.

This is the first time I’ve found this man in this maze of a state, but nonetheless I know he has grown old.

“The girl,” he says after a short pause, cutting through my thoughts.

I look at him. I understand what he means, but I ask to confirm, “What girl?”

“Don’t act like this. You know what I’m talking about. The girl who saved me. Where is she?” he asks, annoyed.

“She’s my guest for a few days, unless I find out who’s behind this. And believe me—if I find her in this, she’s as good as dead,” I answer coldly.

“Don’t.” He says it softly.

“Don’t what?” I ask, playing dumb.

“She’s innocent, Xerver. Don’t involve her in this,” he says, looking down. “Don’t involve her with you.” His voice holds fear and sadness.

I don't recognize this man. He used to be as ruthless as I am—now this girl has him on his knees.

I already hate her.

“Where is she, Xerver?” he asks again, breaking the silence.

Again—her.

“She’s in my home,” I reply angrily.

Suddenly he smirks, which confuses me. Then it hits me and I stand up, the chair scraping loudly as it falls.

“You already trust her this much to leave her with your four-year-old daughter?” he says and lights a cigarette.

I step toward the door and call after him, “It’s forbidden to smoke in the hospital,” then shut the door.

How could I let this happen? I curse myself. Sweat beads form on my forehead.

I pick up my phone and call my right-hand man.

After one ring he answers, and before he can speak I order him to go to my house immediately and check on my daughter.

Sensing the fear in my voice, he says yes without asking anything.

It would take me fifteen minutes to get there, but he’s already outside my house.

After waiting two or three minutes, I call again, my hand balled into a fist.

“Yes, sir?” he answers.

“DON’T GIVE ME THAT SHIT!” I shout.

“Where is my daughter?” I ask, calmer now but with gritted teeth.

“Well, sir, the answer is very interesting. You should come home and see for yourself,” he replies.

I stare at my phone with knitted brows and cut the call.

He is my childhood friend—or else I would have killed him for this.

The driver parks the car and the first thing I see is him leaning against the front door.

I walk up to him; he steps aside with a smirk.

I know I can’t kill him, but I want to—badly.

Inside the house, the lights are off. Only the TV room is lit.

I enter the room silently and look around.

What I find surprises me.

There she is, sleeping with my daughter in her arms—protective, as if she were the mother.

The thought angers me.

How could she act like she is her mother?

I walk closer to wake her and take the child away. When my phone rang and looking at the caller id... I gave this situation another thought before leaving the house again.

The ride feels endless, but my thoughts are sharper than the night air.

Xander’s words linger in my mind. His tone wasn’t casual—it was deliberate. Like he knew something I didn’t. Like he was testing me.

If it’s war, then it’s my fault for slipping. I’ve never let myself get distracted before. But this girl… this girl and her innocent face… she’s twisting things in ways I don’t like.

I grip the edge of the seat, my jaw tight.

I think of my daughter—peaceful, smiling in her sleep in that stranger’s arms. For a moment, I almost believed it was fine. Almost believed it was safe.

That’s what makes her dangerous.

I can’t afford softness. Not now. Not ever.

If Xander senses it, he’ll use it.

If anyone else senses it, they’ll kill us for it.

I need to shut this down before it spreads any further.

I pull out my phone again and send one short text to my right hand:

Keep eyes on her. Do not interfere. Report everything.

Then I lean back in the seat and close my eyes, though sleep won’t come.

All I see is her—my daughter curled into her chest, and that girl’s face softened with a peace I’ve never known.

And all I feel is something I shouldn’t.

But my hands won’t move.

The sight pins me in place.

The look on her face is pure innocence, and some strange part of me tells me that it’s okay.

I don’t like what she’s doing to me. I don’t want her in my life—or in our life.

She is a danger.

What does an innocent girl do to me?

My consciousness mocks me and I leave, not wanting to stay.

But there is a strange feeling that this time I don’t have to worry about my daughter.

I call Xander to tell him why I missed our meeting.

After two or three rings he picks up.

“I’ve been waiting for you to call me and ask why you were absent from our meeting,” is the first thing he says.

I don’t answer at once—I’m shocked. He is, too.

Without another word I say, “I was too,” and cut the call.

This means war or a meeting. I suspect it will be against me—but since it was my fault, I’ll talk with him.