The evening air was cool as Aiden walked onto the private balcony of his penthouse, city lights spreading out below him in a glittering mosaic. He took a slow breath, his brain rehashing the cryptic message received earlier. He'd written it off as a prank, but the nagging sensation in his belly indicated otherwise.

  Behind him, the glass door slid open silently. Lucas stepped out, his very presence commanding even in repose. "You should remain indoors," he told him, his voice a low growl.

  Aiden smiled, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "You believe a sniper has me in their crosshairs?"

  Lucas didn't smile. "I believe threats shouldn't be dismissed."

  Aiden spun to confront him, the man's unyielding gaze causing his skin to crawl. "And what do you believe, Lucas? Is this a real threat or just some one attempting to unsettle me?"

  Lucas folded his arms. "I don't make assumptions. But the manner in which that message came—personal, direct—indicates someone with intent and access."

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  Aiden scowled, putting down his drink. "So, now what?"

  Lucas did not blink. "Now, we anticipate the worst. We analyze, we expect, and we remain one step ahead."

  Aiden looked at him, the weight of Lucas's words pinning him to the ground. For the first time, he felt the heft of the stakes. And for the first time, he questioned whether or not he was ready for everything that was happening. Lucas just sat there by his side, his calm energy a bulwark against uncertainty, a mute vow that whatever danger came at Aiden had to get through him first.