The intense heat from moments before was slowly fading, leaving his muscles heavy and drained. Above him, Harrison remained close, his massive frame casting a wide shadow in the dim light.

Harrison stayed leaning over Julius for a long moment, his dark eyes locked onto Julius’s face. His breath was still hot against Julius’s skin, his thumbs brushing over Julius’s hips with a steady pressure.

"Come on," Harrison said, his voice dropping into a low, rough rumble.

He wrapped his large hands around Julius’s waist and lifted him off the desk with a single motion. Julius’s boots hit the ground, his knees buckling slightly from pure exhaustion. Harrison caught him instantly, holding him firmly against his chest until Julius found his balance.

Julius let out a soft groan, resting his forehead against Harrison’s bare shoulder for a brief second. The scent of the Enigma was heavy all around him. Every muscle in his body ached from the gunfight at the warehouse and the rough session on the desk, but the heavy tension in his stomach was finally gone.

Harrison kept one arm wrapped securely around Julius’s waist, guiding him across the dark office toward the private bathroom. He pushed the door open, turning on the lights above the sink.

Harrison turned on the tap, letting the water run until steam began to rise. He reached for a clean cloth, dipping it into the warm water before turning back to Julius.

Julius stood by the counter, his eyes fixed on Harrison. In the bright light, the reality of the day was clear. Julius’s face was covered in dust from the warehouse, and a thin smear of dark, drying blood cut across his jaw.

Harrison stepped closer, his large body blocking out the rest of the room. He reached up, his rough fingers gently tilting Julius’s chin upward.

"Stay still," Harrison murmured, his dark eyes focused entirely on Julius’s face.

He brought the warm cloth up to Julius’s jaw, pressing it gently against the dried blood to soften it. Julius winced slightly as the warm water touched a small cut, his fingers tightening around the edge of the counter.

"Does it hurt?" Harrison asked, his thumb rubbing a soothing circle against the side of Julius’s neck.

"No," Julius said softly. "It’s just a scratch. I didn’t even notice it during the fight."

"You were too busy shooting people on the catwalk," Harrison said, a slow smile touching the corners of his lips. He wiped away the last of the blood, cleaning the dust from Julius’s cheeks. "You have good aim under pressure, baby."

"I had to," Julius replied, looking straight into Harrison’s eyes. "You were busy slamming people into walls. I had to make sure nobody shot you in the back."

Harrison let out a low chuckle. He tossed the stained cloth into the sink and looked down at Julius’s torn, dirty shirt.

"You can’t wear that," Harrison said, pulling the ruined shirt off Julius’s shoulders.

Harrison walked out of the bathroom for a moment, returning with a clean, crisp black button-down shirt from his spare closet. He held it out, helping Julius slide his arms through the sleeves.

The shirt belonged to Harrison, and it fit loosely over Julius’s broad frame. The shoulders hung slightly low, and the hem reached past his waist. The moment the material settled against Julius’s skin, he was hit by Harrison’s heavy, dominant scent.

Julius began to button the front, his fingers moving slowly. Harrison watched him, his eyes darkening as he saw how big the shirt looked on Julius’s body.

"Leave the top two open," Harrison commanded quietly, his hand coming up to stop Julius’s fingers near his throat.

Julius looked up, raising an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Because I want to see the mark," Harrison said simply, his thumb pressing against the fresh claim on Julius’s neck. "I want everyone to know exactly who you belong to before we walk out of here."

Julius felt a wave of heat rush to his ears, but he didn’t pull away. He let his hands drop, leaving the top buttons open. He smoothed down the front of the large shirt, rolling up the long sleeves past his forearms.

"Are we going back to the penthouse?" Julius asked.

"Yes," Harrison said, turning off the bathroom light. "The streets are too loud right now. We need to get off the grid before the police start asking questions about that warehouse."

They walked out of the bathroom and back into the dark office. Harrison picked up his dark jacket, throwing it over his broad shoulders to hide the fresh bandage on his wound.

He reached onto the desk, grabbing his heavy handgun and tucking it securely into his belt before grabbing his keys.

A few minutes later, the vehicle finally pulled into the private underground garage of Harrison’s penthouse building. Julius opened his eyes. He felt dizzy from the short rest, his body aching more now that his muscles had cooled down.

They took the private elevator up to the top floor. The moment the doors slid open, the quiet luxury of the apartment welcomed them.

Julius walked straight to the long leather couch in the living room, tossing his jacket onto a nearby chair. He sat down heavily, rubbing his face with both hands.

"You need to eat something," Harrison said, walking past him toward the kitchen. "And you need real rest."

"I just want answers, Harrison," Julius said, his voice dropping into a tired tone. "My mother is in a safehouse, my house is destroyed, and we just killed a warehouse full of men. I can’t just sit here and eat."

Before Harrison could answer, a sharp beep echoed from the main security console near the entrance. Harrison stopped, his jaw tightening as he walked over to the screen. He pressed a button, bringing up a secure audio line.

"Speak," Harrison ordered coldly.

"Boss, I’m through," the voice of his tech specialist came through the speaker. "I spent the last two hours breaking down the hardware from the phone Julius recovered from the lead shooter. The communication lines were dead ends, but the internal system logs gave me something."

Julius stood up from the couch instantly, his exhaustion forgotten as he walked over to stand right next to Harrison by the console.

"What did you find?" Julius demanded. "Did you trace the bank account that sent the money?"

"Not the bank account directly, sir," the tech guy explained, pausing for a second. "But I managed to trace the digital footprint of the automated text message that gave the orders and the warehouse coordinates. The text was sent through a highly secure corporate server."

"Which one?" Harrison asked, his voice a dangerous, low command. "Void Corporation?"

"No, boss," the tech guy said, his voice dropping into a cautious tone. "That’s the strange part. It didn’t touch Helen’s family network at all. The signal originated from an internal computer terminal hardwired directly into the main frame of Vane Global Holdings."

The words echoed in the quiet penthouse, hitting the room like a cold blast of wind.

Julius went completely rigid, his fingers gripping the edge of the security console so hard his knuckles turned white. His heart hammered violently against his ribs.

"What did you just say?" Julius asked, his voice flat and dangerous.

"The digital token used to authorize the message belongs to an internal executive account at your own company, Mr. Vane," the tech guy repeated clearly. "The person who funded the shooters and ordered the raid on your mother’s estate is sitting inside your own main building."

Harrison didn’t say anything. He slowly turned his head to look at Julius, his dark eyes fixed on Julius’s pale face. His jaw was clenched tight, his Enigma scent flaring with sudden aggression.

Julius stood perfectly still, his mind racing through every face and every high-level executive he had hired. He had built Vane Global Holdings completely from the ground up with his own sweat and blood. He had trusted these people.

"A rat," Julius growled, his fists clenching tightly at his sides as he stared blankly at the dark screen. "There is a fucking rat in my company trying to kill my family."