Chapter 4
Eren POV
Tall iron gates enclosed the entire property, wrapping
it in steel like a cage. From above, the place would probably look like a giant
bowl. Inside was mostly open land, with the only real cluster of green being
the vegetable garden tucked against one side of the modern walls.
The mansion itself was relatively new, all clean lines
and contemporary design with colored brick, which hadn’t been popular until the
early 2000s, giving it a crisp, polished look.
My boots shuffled quietly through the grass as I
walked the perimeter, eyes scanning the fence line. There were two gates; one
at the back, one at the front and I was making my way along both sides. I moved
closer to the fence, studying it for fingerprints or the scuff marks of shoes
that might have tried to climb the iron. The sun was sinking fast, shadows
bleeding across the property, making the search harder but not impossible.
I nudged at the overgrown grass along the fence with
the toe of my boot. If I had to guess, I’d say the landscaper hadn’t touched
the far edge of the property in months. Not that I was an expert.
I wasn’t exactly hunting for Verra’s stalker
tonight. My philosophy was simple one wrong move, and I shoot to kill. Since
starting in this line of work, I hadn’t killed anyone. I’d guarded celebrities
before, and the crowd could get pretty wild. I’d fought off mobs more than
once. But actual killing? No. Still, I missed it sometimes. Killing was
something I’d grown used to. It had once been my job to eliminate anyone who
wronged my leader.
Although I hadn’t killed in a long time, that didn’t
mean I wouldn’t.
I kept kicking at the grass, my eyes sweeping the iron
fence like I had binoculars built into my skull.
Just as I was about to stomp down a patch of tall,
spiky grass, I noticed something strange. The blades weren’t growing upright.
They were flattened and dried, as if something had stunted their growth. I
crouched, studying the area more closely. The fencing itself looked… off.
Damaged.
Something had been crawling between the bars.
Something big.
I would’ve said an animal, but the road ran just
beyond the fence, and there wasn’t a single creature in sight. The forest
reserve wasn’t far, but this neighborhood was far too pristine. Even wild
animals seemed to know better than to wander here.
Which meant only one thing. This was human work.
Only a human would be this brazen.
"Ma’am?!"
I turned sharply, my back brushing the fence.
"Yes?"
"Mr. Avalon says you’re to join him for
dinner."
Dinner. I hated those settings. They reminded me too
much of the Mafia not the pigs everyone imagined, but the reality; lavish
feasts every night, tailored tuxedos, perfect table etiquette. Only God Himself
wasn’t as flawless as we were.
"I’ll pass on dinner."
Bart’s expression tightened, his gaze flicking to the
patch of dried grass.
"Can I not meditate in peace?" I growled
flatly.
He laughed, hands resting behind his back. "The
Avlons can be very annoying and persistent. He insisted you eat something
before the night’s over."
I hadn’t had a proper dinner in years. It wasn’t
something a diner couldn’t fix, or I couldn’t whip up myself. But I wanted to
stay back and investigate whatever was making its way onto the property. If it
was fur, I’d know it was a wild animal on a new path. But this felt different,
human.
The bars on the fence were bent too close together. An
animal would have sniffed around, tried to push its head through, and turned
away when it failed. This looked like a man had shoved the iron with all his
strength.
The stalker, maybe?
Bart stood silently, probably waiting. I doubted he
could leave without me.
"I’m coming," I said.
He nodded and turned, heading back. That was probably
all I needed to say.
I crouched to examine the damage an incision in the
fence. Night was falling fast, so I flipped out my flashlight and shone it
across the twisted metal. There it was; fingerprints and bits of fabric caught
in the iron.
The stalker? I didn’t have much intel on him, but I’d
bet he had full access to her secret life.
Clubbing.
Partying.
Sneaking around all over the world.
She wasn’t living a decent life. Only her father saw
that polished surface. By night, she was a little demon.
She went to clubs three times a week. I didn’t party
myself, but when I did, it was to protect my leader. He owned several clubs and
liked to think of them as his empire—places where people came to worship him.
Especially the DJs. He loved it when they shouted his name in a song and the
crowd went wild.
I made my way back, trying to familiarize myself with
every inch of the property. It was one of the most important protocols. I
wouldn’t dare tell Mr. Avalon about the third gate on the estate. I needed to
see it in use first. It was odd that there were no cameras covering that part.
Either they never installed any, or someone had taken
them down.
"Mr. Avalon," I announced, stepping inside.
He was having dinner with his daughter. I wondered why
his wife wasn’t present and that she had to sneak around to visit. Not my
concern. My job was to make sure she didn’t leave unnoticed.
Had she slipped through that fence? I doubted it.
Maybe one of the guards helped her. If she’d paid off my team, I wouldn’t be
surprised. They’d taken the bait, and now I had to clean up the mess. If the
guards had been strict, she wouldn’t have drawn unwanted attention to herself.
"Please join us," Mr. Avalon invited.
"I’m on duty," I replied.
"We insist. Please?" he pleaded.
I nodded and moved to the other side of the table. He
clapped his hands, and the chef, standing nearby, quickly returned with a
colorful plate with impressive speed.
"My daughter, Verra, was anxious today," he
said.
She snickered. "I was merely anxious, Dad. I just
thought it was rude for a stranger to barge into my room."
“I want to apologize for the lack of a proper
introduction. Ms. Eren Santangelo, this is my daughter, Ms. Verra Avalon.”
He looked between us, expecting a handshake.
“Hm.”
I ignored the gesture. I didn’t like unnecessary
contact with women. I only touched when absolutely necessary.
“Don’t come back into my room.”
“Verra, that’s how they protect you.”
“When am I getting my old bodyguard back? I miss him,
Daddy.” She turned, flashing her best puppy dog eyes.
“She’ll be your bodyguard. For how long again?” Mr.
Avalon asked me.
“Six months. If no changes are needed, it could be
longer.”
“Longer?” Her eyebrows lifted in surprise.
“Hm.”
“Is ‘hm’ your favorite word?”
“Verra, please show some respect. I already told you;
she’s a woman of few words.”
“I want my old bodyguard back.” She tried to meet my
eyes, but I tipped my hat down, the brim casting a shadow deep over my
forehead.
“Please eat your meal and get back to work.”
I pushed the plate away. “I’m full.”
Mr. Avalon stared at the untouched food. “But you
haven’t touched your meal.”
“Staring at it is good enough.”
************
I walked through the house. Everything was grand
almost overwhelmingly so and I found it frustrating. I’d already checked Ms.
Avalon’s room twice.
She’d practically threatened to slip away right under
my nose. Her father worked nights, which explained how she managed to sneak
out. Her mother was somewhere unknown, and her father was a total workaholic.
There was no parental structure here. Not that she
needed it. She was a grown woman. By now, she should have been in college or
married. But according to her father, she was sheltered. That was his only
concern.
The mansion felt almost empty. I bumped into a few
guards here and there, but otherwise, the grounds were lonely. I climbed the
stairs and strode slowly down the hallway. Then I paused seeing that her door
was ajar. I pushed it open and found the room empty.
Shit. She really did slip past me. How had she
gotten by without me seeing? I rushed to the tightly shut window and flung my
cap off in frustration. There was only one explanation; she’d slipped through.
But how? I bolted from the room and caught sight of a garage door lifting. A
car crawled out.
I ran along the side and cut in front of it.
“Get out of the car!” I shouted.
She might’ve won this round. Babysitting her—it was
what I called it—was a first for me. She showed no sign of cutting the engine
or stepping out. She wasn’t a good girl; I couldn’t expect good behavior.
She was making me shout too much. I preferred people
who complied. That’s why I left my old life behind and became a boss. Yelling
like this was something you did with slow kids, not grown adults.
“Get out of the car!”
We stared each other down. She wasn’t moving, and
neither was I.
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