The sound of Chad's expensive watch band creaking under the pressure was sickeningly loud in the quiet parking lot.

Earl didn't move his body. He just squeezed. His hand engulfed Chad's wrist completely, his knuckles white, the tendons in his forearm standing out like steel cables.

"Ah! Fuck! Let go!" Chad's knees buckled. He dropped to the pavement, forced down by the sheer, crushing pressure on his joint. "Do you know who I am?"

Earl stared at him. His expression was bored. Detached. As if he were holding a bag of trash, not a Vice President.

"I don't care," Earl said.

"You-you brute!" Tiffany shrieked. She swung her handbag-a quilted Chanel-at Earl. It hit his shoulder with a dull thud.

Earl didn't even blink. He didn't flinch. He didn't acknowledge her existence. He just kept crushing Chad's wrist.

"Earl," Faith whispered.

The sound of her voice seemed to pierce through the red haze surrounding him.

She tugged on the back of his coat. "Earl, stop. Please. You'll break it. And the PR nightmare isn't worth it."

Earl looked down at her. The violence in his eyes receded, replaced by a flicker of calculation. He looked back at Chad, sneered, and released him with a dismissive flick of his wrist.

Chad collapsed against the side of his Porsche, cradling his hand. He was gasping for air, his face a mottled red. He looked up, furious, ready to scream a lawsuit.

Then he saw the face of the man who had crushed him.

Chad's face went from red to a sickly, paste white in a millisecond. His mouth opened, but no sound came out.

"Mr... Mr. Hampton?" Chad whispered, his voice trembling.

Earl reached into his pocket. He didn't pull out a card. He pulled out a sleek, black titanium phone. He tapped the screen twice.

"Miller," Earl said, his voice dropping the temperature in the parking lot by another ten degrees. "You're the VP of Logistics, correct?"

"Yes... yes, sir," Chad stammered, trying to stand up but failing.

"Not anymore," Earl said. "You're terminated. Effective immediately. For conduct unbecoming of a Hampton executive. And for touching my... associate."

Chad gaped. "But... Sir, I didn't know... She's just..."

"Leave," Earl commanded.

Chad didn't argue. He scrambled into the driver's seat of the Porsche, shoving a bewildered Tiffany into the passenger side. The engine roared, and the red car peeled out of the lot as if the devil himself were snapping at its tires.

Earl turned his back on them completely. He looked at Faith.

"Your car is dead," he said.

Faith looked at the Corolla. The bumper was hanging off. Fluid was leaking onto the ground. "It's... it might start."

"The radiator is cracked," Earl said. "Leave it. I'll have it towed to a shop I know."

"Earl, I can't-"

"Get in the car."

He gestured to the vehicle parked in the shadows behind him. It wasn't a truck. It was a blacked-out Cadillac Escalade, armored plating visible around the window frames, the kind of vehicle used by heads of state.

Faith looked at the SUV. She looked at the empty spot where Chad had been.

Then she looked at Earl. He was solid. He was safe. Or at least, he was a known danger compared to the chaos of her life.

"Okay," she said.

She climbed into the passenger seat of the Escalade. It was high up. The leather smelled of sandalwood and tobacco. The door closed with a solid, reassuring thunk, sealing out the wind and the voices.

Earl walked around the front. He moved with a slight limp, a reminder of the shrapnel she had just pulled out of him, but his face betrayed nothing.

Then he got in.

The engine roared to life. A deep, refined purr.

Earl pulled out of the spot.

Faith let out a breath she felt like she'd been holding for twenty minutes. Her hands were shaking in her lap.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "But you shouldn't have done that. Chad is... vindictive. He knows people on the Board."

Earl's hands were relaxed on the steering wheel. "I am the Board, Faith."

"Not if they vote you out. You know the rumors. They say your grip is slipping."

Earl reached over. He took her hand. His palm was warm, rough, and enormous. He engulfed her cold fingers.

"Faith," he said. He glanced at her, his eyes serious. "Nobody is going to fire me. And nobody is going to touch you. Not while I'm breathing."

"You can't promise that. You have enemies, Earl. That shrapnel in your leg proves it."

"I can," he said. "I promise."

He turned the SUV onto the main avenue.

"Where are we going?" Faith asked.

"You need food," Earl said. "And we need to talk. Somewhere where you can't run away. We have contract terms to discuss."

Faith looked out the window at the passing city lights. She should be terrified. She was in a billionaire's armored car, a man who had just fired a VP with his bare hands.

But as his thumb brushed over her knuckles, she didn't feel fear.

She felt a terrifying sense of inevitability.

And that terrified her more than anything.

The bell above the door of Lou's Diner jingled cheerfully, a stark contrast to the heavy silence that had filled the SUV cab.

Earl held the door open for her. The diner was warm, smelling of frying bacon and old coffee. It was late, so the place was mostly empty, save for a trucker dozing in the corner and a waitress wiping down the counter.

Earl guided her to a booth in the back. Red vinyl seats, cracked in the corners. Formica table. It was the kind of place where billion-dollar deals were made in whispers to avoid wiretaps.

Faith slid in. She felt exposed without her white coat. Just Faith. Just a tired woman in a hoodie trying to hide a secret that could topple an empire.

The waitress, a woman in her fifties with hair dyed a shocking shade of purple, wandered over with a pot of coffee.

"What can I get you folks?"

Earl didn't look at the menu. "Black coffee for me. And a hot chocolate for her. Extra whipped cream. Shaved chocolate on top if you have it."

Faith froze. Her mouth opened slightly.

The waitress winked. "You got it, hon." She walked away.

Faith stared at Earl. "How did you know?"

Earl took off his coat, revealing a black dress shirt that clung to his chest. He folded his hands on the table. "The dossier. Page 4, subsection 'Preferences'. You drink it when you're analyzing market trends."

Faith felt the blush start at her toes and rocket up to her hairline. She looked down at the table, tracing the scratches in the laminate. "I was... younger then."

"You have a sweet tooth when you're stressed," Earl corrected. "I noticed."

"You noticed a lot for someone who was supposedly focused solely on the merger."

"I notice everything about my investments, Faith."

The drinks arrived. Faith wrapped her hands around the thick ceramic mug. The heat seeped into her frozen palms. She took a sip. It was sweet, rich, and comforting.

Earl watched her drink. He didn't touch his coffee.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked, putting the mug down. "The rescue. The ride. The hot chocolate. What do you want, Earl?"

Earl reached into the inside pocket of his jacket. He pulled out a thick, manila envelope.

He slid it across the table.

"Open it."

Faith hesitated. "What is it? A lawsuit? A subpoena?"

"Just open it."

She undid the clasp. She pulled out the papers.

It wasn't a lawsuit.

It was a stack of documents.

Top sheet: A copy of a Trust Fund establishment. Beneficiary: unnamed minor.

Second sheet: A private investigator's report. Photos of a small house in the suburbs. Photos of a swing set.

Third sheet: A new Non-Disclosure Agreement. Far stricter than the first.

Fourth sheet: A bank statement. A transfer of five million dollars into an escrow account.

Faith looked up, her blood turning to ice. "You know."

"I know there is a child, Faith." Earl said. "I know you've been hiding him."

"He's not..."

"Don't lie to me. Not about this."

He leaned forward.

"I know you're scared," he said softly. "I saw it in your eyes at the hospital. You think everyone leaves. Or you think everyone wants something from you. You think I'll use him as leverage."

Faith shoved the papers back into the envelope. Her hands were shaking again.

"You don't know me, Earl. You don't know my life. You don't know what the Board will do if they find out there's an heir. They'll tear him apart."

"Then tell me."

"My life is a mess!" Her voice cracked. "My identity is compromised. The Board has hired private contractors to find 'The Leak'. If they connect me to the Oracle sabotage, and then connect me to the boy..."

She pushed the envelope back to him.

"You're a businessman, Earl. You calculate risk. He is a liability. You deserve someone... uncomplicated. Someone who doesn't come with baggage that will drag you down."

Earl didn't take the envelope. He reached across the table and covered her hand with his.

"I don't want uncomplicated," he said. "I spent ten years building a monopoly, Faith. Peace bores me. I like a challenge."

"I'm not a challenge. I'm a disaster."

"You're a survivor," he said fiercely. "And as for your baggage..." He shrugged. "I can carry heavy things. And I protect what is mine."

Faith stared at him. She wanted to believe him. God, she wanted to believe him. But she knew the corporate world. She knew the reality of her world. It corrupted everything it touched.

"I can't," she whispered. "I can't let you get hurt. Or him."

She stood up. "Thank you for the drink. And the ride. But... please. Just let me go."

She didn't wait for an answer. She turned and walked out of the diner, the bell jingling mournfully behind her.

Earl didn't follow. He sat there, sipping his black coffee, watching her go. He checked his watch. 3, 2, 1.

Faith stepped out onto the sidewalk. The wind hit her face, drying the tears that were threatening to fall.

Stupid, she told herself. Stupid, stupid girl. You just walked away from the best protection you could ever afford.

But I had to. To protect my son.

She turned up her collar and started walking toward the bus stop.

The street was dark. The streetlights here were yellow and dim, casting long, skeletal shadows against the brick walls of the warehouses.

Faith walked fast, her keys clutched between her knuckles-a pathetic weapon, but the only one she had.

She heard footsteps behind her.

She sped up.

The footsteps sped up. Heavy boots. Professional gait.

Faith's heart hammered against her ribs. She turned the corner toward the bus stop, hoping to see people.

It was empty.

A figure stepped out from the alleyway ahead of her, blocking her path.

"Miss Neal."

The voice was smooth, mechanical.

Not a drug dealer. A professional.

He stepped into the light. He looked generic. Grey suit, earpiece, dead eyes.

"Who are you?" Faith said, her voice trembling.

"Mr. Black sent me," the man said. Black was the Head of Security for the rival faction on the Board. "He wants the encryption keys for the logistics override. And the location of the asset."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"We know you're Oracle," the man spat, stepping closer. "And we know about the boy. Give us the keys, and maybe we leave the kid alone."

"You stay away from him!" Faith backed away, but she bumped into the brick wall. Trapped.

The man's face twisted. The desperation took over. "I'm not asking, Miss Neal."

He pulled a knife from his pocket. A military-grade tactical blade. Click. The blade glinted in the dim light.

Faith stopped breathing.

"Give me your phone," he demanded. "Unlock it. Transfer the data. Now."

"Please. I can't."

"DO IT!" he screamed, lunging forward. He grabbed her hoodie, slamming her against the bricks.

Faith cried out as her head hit the wall. The knife was inches from her face.

"I'll cut you," he hissed. "I swear to God, Faith, I'll cut that pretty face and see if Hampton wants you then."

Faith squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the pain. This is it. This is my life.

Thwack.

A sound like a rock hitting a melon.

The man screamed.

The weight on her chest vanished.

Faith opened her eyes.

The mercenary was on the ground, clutching his hand. The knife lay in the gutter.

Earl stood over him.

He hadn't made a sound. He had moved like a ghost.

Earl didn't look at Faith. He was focused entirely on the attacker. He reached down, grabbed him by the collar of his suit jacket, and hauled him to his feet with one hand.

"Who are you?" the man shrieked, swinging a wild punch.

Earl caught the fist. He twisted.

Crack.

The man howled, his knees buckling. Earl didn't let him fall. He slammed him against the wall, pinning him there with a forearm across the throat.

"Listen to me," Earl said. His voice was terrifyingly calm. No anger. Just cold, hard facts. "Tell Black that if he sends another contractor... If I ever see your shadow within a mile of her..."

He leaned in close.

"I will dismantle his entire division. And I will bury you in it."

The man gurgled, clawing at Earl's arm. His eyes were bulging with terror. He nodded frantically.

Earl stepped back. He dropped him.

"Run," Earl said.

The mercenary didn't need to be told twice. He scrambled up, cradling his broken wrist, and sprinted into the darkness, sobbing.

Silence returned to the street.

Faith slid down the wall, her legs giving out.

Earl was there instantly. He knelt in front of her. The monster who had just broken a man's arm vanished. His hands were gentle as he cupped her face.

"Faith," he said. "Look at me. Are you hurt?"

Faith shook her head. She couldn't speak. The adrenaline was crashing, leaving her shaking violently.

"He... he had a knife... He knew about Oracle... He knew about..."

"I know. It's gone. He's gone."

"The Board will come back. They always come back."

"No," Earl said firmly. "They won't. I promise."

He pulled her into his arms. He smelled of leather and safety. Faith buried her face in his chest, clutching his shirt.

"I tried to tell you," she sobbed. "I'm a liability."

Earl wrapped his arms around her, lifting her off the dirty pavement as if she weighed nothing. He held her tight, rocking her slightly. He winced slightly as his injured leg took the weight, but he didn't falter.

"You're not a liability," he whispered into her hair. "You're mine."

He pulled back slightly, wiping a tear from her cheek with his thumb.

"Come home with me, Faith. Let me do my job. Let me protect you. And let me meet my son."

Faith looked at him. She looked at the dark alley where the threat had disappeared. She looked at the man who had walked through fire to find her.

She was done running. She needed a partner. She needed a Crisis Manager of her own.

"Okay," she whispered. "Take me home."