The rain was coming down harder now, turning the city into a blur of lights and water. Sterling carried Desiree into the underground parking garage, his jaw clenched tight. He dumped her unceremoniously into the back seat of the Rolls-Royce.

"Gus, her apartment. Fast," Sterling ordered, sliding into the seat beside her and slamming the door.

The car pulled out into the chaotic Manhattan traffic. The wipers beat a frantic rhythm against the windshield. Inside the car, the silence was suffocating.

Desiree was still gasping, her hand clutching her chest. But when Sterling turned his head to look out the window, her gasps stopped. Her face smoothed out. The fear and pain vanished, replaced by a cold, predatory calculation.

Up in the VIP suite, Kenzie was pressed against the glass, her tiny hands leaving prints on the window. She stared down at the black car disappearing into the city. She closed her eyes and pushed her mind out, stretching her telepathic abilities to their absolute limit.

Static crackled in her brain. The distance was making the connection fuzzy. Then, like a radio tuning into a station, Desiree's thoughts blasted into Kenzie's mind, loud and clear.

"You idiot," Desiree was thinking, a triumphant sneer in her mental voice. "You actually fell for it. You're taking me right where I want you to go."

Kenzie's heart dropped. She listened in horror as the plan unfolded in Desiree's twisted mind.

"The GHB is in the liquor cabinet. Just one drink and you'll be putty in my hands. The cameras are already rolling. 360 degrees, high definition. By morning, every board member of the Coleman Group will have a copy of you in bed with me."

Kenzie broke out in a cold sweat. GHB. The date rape drug. It was colorless, odorless, and completely destroyed a person's ability to resist or remember.

"Once the video is out, you'll be begging to marry me to save the family name. And half the trust fund will be mine," Desiree's thoughts gloated.

Kenzie snapped her eyes open. She screamed in her mind, a desperate, piercing warning. "She's setting you up! It's a honey trap! GHB in the drinks! Cameras in the bedroom! She's going to film you and blackmail the entire family!"

Devin was standing by the window, lighting a cigar. The lighter flame paused an inch from the tip. The words "GHB," "cameras," and "blackmail" hit him like a physical force.

He let the lighter snap shut. He didn't doubt the voice. Not anymore. But the implications were staggering. A sex tape involving the Coleman heir would be a disaster of nuclear proportions.

"You have to stop him!" Kenzie yelled, her mental voice raw with urgency. "Once he drinks that, it's over! The stock will tank! The board will revolt! You'll lose billions!"

The mention of the stock price and the billions was the final push. Devin's eyes went cold. He crushed the unlit cigar in his fist, grinding the expensive tobacco into dust over the carpet. He pulled out his phone and dialed Sterling's number.

It rang. And rang. And went to voicemail.

In the back of the Rolls-Royce, Desiree smiled. Her hand was in her purse, her finger resting on the button of a small, portable signal jammer. She always kept the jammer with her when meeting Sterling, a precaution to ensure their private conversations remained private and couldn't be tracked by corporate spies. Tonight, however, it served a much darker purpose. She had come prepared.

Sterling looked at his phone, seeing the "No Signal" icon. He tossed it onto the dashboard in annoyance. "Dead zone," he muttered.

Devin tried again. And again. Nothing. The calls weren't even going through.

"She's jamming the signal!" Kenzie realized, panic clawing at her throat. "She's not taking any chances! Devin, she's going to destroy him! You have to go! Now!"

Devin didn't need to be told again. He turned on his heel, his coat flaring out behind him. He strode out of the room, his face a mask of lethal intent.

"Arthur!" he barked as he hit the hallway. "Get the car. The fastest one. Now!"

Devin walked into the hospital room and scooped Kenzie up from the window seat. He turned and shoved her into the arms of the startled head nurse, who had just walked in to check her vitals.

"Watch her," Devin ordered, his voice like gravel. "If she gets a single scratch, I will shut this hospital down and sell it for scrap."

The nurse went white, clutching the baby to her chest. "Yes, sir! Of course, sir!"

Devin turned and headed for the door. His long legs ate up the distance, his body coiled with explosive energy.

Kenzie struggled in the nurse's arms. This wasn't part of the plan. Devin was going in blind. He didn't know where the drugs were. He didn't know where the cameras were. He would walk into Desiree's trap just like Sterling.

"You idiot!" Kenzie screamed in her mind, thrashing her tiny limbs. "You can't just kick the door down! She'll have the cameras hidden! If you don't find the evidence, she can claim Sterling attacked her! You need me!"

Devin's stride faltered. He was at the elevator bank, his finger hovering over the call button. He heard the baby's thoughts loud and clear. She was right. Without the physical evidence of the cameras and the drugs, it would just be his word against hers. And a rich man accusing a poor doctor of entrapment wouldn't play well in the press.

But taking a sick infant on a tactical raid was insane.

"Bring me!" Kenzie insisted, her mental voice frantic. "I can pinpoint the cameras! I can read her mind! I'm your radar! You're flying blind without me!"

Devin's jaw clenched. He looked back at the squirming baby in the nurse's arms. He weighed the risk to the child against the risk to his family's empire. The empire won.

He strode back and snatched Kenzie from the nurse. "Shut up," he muttered, holding her close. "Arthur," Devin barked, turning to his bodyguard. "You follow one block behind in the SUV. If anything happens to me, your only priority is the child. You get her out. Understood?" Arthur nodded grimly. Devin shifted his grip, using his broad chest and the thick layers of his wool coat to create a protective barrier around Kenzie's fragile body. "If you throw up on my coat, I'm leaving you on the side of the road," he added, though the careful way he shielded her head belied the harsh words.

Kenzie immediately stopped struggling. She nestled into his neck, a smug satisfaction warming her chest. "Deal. Let's go, tyrant."

Devin hit the elevator button. They plummeted down to the underground garage. A sleek, black Aston Martin DBS was waiting, its engine already growling like a caged beast. Arthur was standing by the driver's door, but Devin pushed him aside.

"I'm driving. You follow with the team," Devin snapped. He opened the passenger door and quickly strapped Kenzie into a top-of-the-line car seat that had magically appeared in the back. He buckled the five-point harness with quick, efficient movements.

Kenzie looked around the interior. The leather, the carbon fiber, the rumble of the V12 engine. "Not bad," she thought, impressed. "Zero to sixty in three point four seconds. Might actually make it in time."

Devin slid into the driver's seat. He heard her thought and a grim smile touched his lips. "Hold on, little monster."

He slammed his foot on the gas. The Aston Martin roared and shot out of the garage, the tires squealing against the wet concrete. They hit the street, and Devin wrenched the wheel, weaving through traffic with a terrifying precision.

Kenzie's tactical mind kicked into high gear. She stared out the windshield, calculating distances and traffic patterns. "Turn right! Take Sixth Avenue!" she yelled in her mind. "Broadway is a parking lot right now! The theaters just let out!"

Devin saw the wall of red taillights ahead. He didn't hesitate. He cranked the wheel, the car drifting sideways through a narrow gap in traffic. They shot down Sixth Avenue, the engine screaming.

"Left on 50th! Cut through the park! It's faster!"

Devin obeyed, the car jumping the curb slightly as they carved a path through the city. They were a bullet tearing through the heart of Manhattan, driven by a man who owned the city and navigated by a baby who used to protect it.

The Aston Martin skidded to a halt right in front of the luxury apartment building on Fifth Avenue, blocking the entrance completely. The doorman jumped back, his mouth agape.

Devin was out of the car in a flash. He ripped the car seat from the back, unstrapped Kenzie with one hand, and tucked her inside his coat. He ran for the private elevator, Arthur and two men in black suits right behind him.

He used a master key card to override the system. The elevator shot up. The numbers climbed rapidly. 30... 40... 50.

Kenzie closed her eyes. She reached out with her mind, pushing through the static. She found Desiree's consciousness. It was buzzing with excitement, a sickening, greedy anticipation.

"Drink it... drink it... just one sip and you're mine..."

Kenzie's eyes flew open. "We're too late! She's making him drink! Kick the door!"

The elevator dinged. The hallway was silent, lined with expensive wallpaper and thick carpet. Devin didn't slow down. He walked up to the heavy oak door of the penthouse. He didn't knock. He didn't try the handle.

He took a step back, raised his leg, and kicked.

The door exploded inward. The heavy deadbolt sheared off, the wood splintering. The door slammed against the wall with a bang that shook the apartment.

In the dimly lit living room, Sterling was sitting on the sofa, a glass of whiskey raised to his lips. Desiree was draped over him, wearing a silk robe, her eyes glued to the glass.

The crash made Sterling jump. His hand jerked. The amber liquid sloshed over the rim, spilling onto his shirt.

Devin stood in the doorway, his chest heaving, his eyes wild. He looked like a demon summoned from hell.

"Devin?" Sterling gasped, lowering the glass. "What the hell are you doing?"

Desiree scrambled back, her face draining of color. The fear in her eyes was real this time.

Devin didn't speak. He crossed the room in two strides and snatched the glass from Sterling's hand. He hurled it against the marble coffee table. The crystal shattered, sending shards and liquid flying.

"Are you crazy?!" Sterling shouted, jumping to his feet. "You can't just break into my-"

"If I hadn't, by tomorrow morning, every shareholder in the company would be watching you drool and grunt on camera," Devin snarled, pointing at the wet stain on the floor. "That was laced with GHB."

Sterling froze. The anger drained from his face, replaced by a chilling realization. He looked at Desiree, who was shrinking into the corner of the sofa.

"That's not true!" she cried, her voice trembling. "It was just whiskey! I was trying to help him relax!"

Kenzie poked her head out of Devin's coat. She scanned the room, her eyes landing on the bedroom door and a decorative vase on the bookshelf. "Smoke detector in the master bedroom," she thought clearly. "And the vase on the right side of the TV. Those are the camera angles."

Devin heard her. He didn't even turn his head. "Arthur. Smoke detector in the bedroom. Vase by the TV. Smash them."

Arthur moved. Two loud crashes later, he dropped two tiny, blinking devices onto the coffee table. The red recording lights were still on.

Sterling stared at the cameras. His stomach heaved. He thought about the glass in his hand, the drink he was about to take. He looked at Desiree, really looked at her, and saw the monster hiding behind the pretty face.

"You..." Sterling's voice was a low, dangerous growl. "You set me up. You drugged me. You filmed me."

"Sterling, please, I-" she whined, reaching out for him.

Sterling lunged. He grabbed her by the shoulders, his grip like a vice, and shoved her backward. She hit the sofa hard, the breath knocking out of her lungs. He didn't choke her; he didn't need to. He leaned over her, his face inches from hers, his voice a low, terrifying snarl. "You poisonous bitch! You were going to ruin me? I will erase you. You will wish you were never born."

Desiree choked, her face turning red, her hands clawing at his wrists. The fake tears were gone, replaced by a desperate, animalistic panic.

Devin watched for a moment, letting his brother vent the rage. But when Desiree's eyes started to roll back, he stepped in.

"Enough," Devin said, his voice cold. He grabbed Sterling's shoulder and pulled him back. "Don't touch her. You'll leave marks. Arthur, bag her and the cameras. Call the lawyers. I want her charged with attempted sexual assault, blackmail, and possession of illegal substances."

Arthur hauled Desiree to her feet. She was gasping, her silk robe disheveled, her mascara running. She looked pathetic and broken.

As the security team dragged her out of the apartment, Kenzie watched from the safety of Devin's arms. The tension in the room began to dissipate, leaving behind the heavy scent of broken wood and spilled whiskey.

"Round one," Kenzie thought, a weary but satisfied sigh echoing in her mind. "We won. But this is just the beginning."

Devin looked down at the baby in his arms. Her eyes were drooping, the exhaustion of the fever and the telepathic strain finally catching up to her. He gently adjusted his coat, wrapping her tighter.

He didn't say a word.