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Chapter 632
Chapter 632:
“I’ll handle the digital cleanup from the security hub,” he said, his voice low and urgent. “Erase the ghosts. You handle the physical. Five minutes, then meet me at the B1 service exit. Don’t be late p>
June gave a single sharp nod and moved past him, her stride long and deliberate without being hurried. Guests stepped aside without quite knowing why, some instinct registering the predator moving through their midst.
The ballroom doors were heavy and soundproofed, designed to separate the gala from the service corridors beyond. She pushed through them into a hallway of utilitarian carpet and exposed pipes, the glamour of the party already a distant memory.
She was halfway to the service elevator when the stairwell door burst open.
Cole.
He looked like a man who had run down twelve flights of stairs — hair disheveled, tie loosened, eyes wild with something that might have been rage or terror or both. He saw her and lunged, his hand closing around her upper arm with enough force to bruise.
𝘐ոѕt𝖺𝗇𝘵 𝖺𝗰𝗰𝗲ѕ𝗌 𝗈𝗻
“Where are you going p>
June stopped. She looked at his hand on her arm, then at his face. Her expression did not change. She might have been observing a stranger on the subway.
“Let go p>
“Not until you tell me.” His voice was ragged, stripped of the polish he wore like armor. “You’re leaving. In the middle of the Astor gala. I know you’re not going with Hahn.” He laughed, a broken sound. “What is this, June? What are you planning p>
June didn’t try to pull away. Instead, she brought the stiletto heel of her shoe down hard onto the delicate bones of his instep.
Cole cried out, his grip spasming open. June stepped back, putting two feet of space between them.
“You’re in my way,” she said, her voice quiet, almost gentle. “I have garbage to dispose of. Real garbage. Not the kind that wears suits and begs for attention p>
She turned.
Cole grabbed for her again, his movements clumsy and desperate. “June p>
She spun. Her hand connected with his chest — not a slap, but a firm push, hard enough to send him stumbling backward into the wall.
“Don’t,” she said. The word was final. Absolute. “Don’t touch me. Don’t speak to me. Don’t exist in my presence p>
She walked away.
Cole slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor, legs splayed, chest heaving. He watched her go — gray dress, straight back, the absolute certainty of her stride — and felt something break inside him that he could not name.
From the shadow of a deep alcove stacked with cleaning supplies, Crawford Love watched.
He had followed her from the ballroom, his instincts screaming that something was wrong — that the set of her shoulders and the rhythm of her walk spoke of a purpose that had nothing to do with social obligation. He had seen Cole intercept her. He had seen her disable him with economical precision and walk away without a backward glance.
He had never seen her look like that. Focused. Certain. Dangerous in a way that had nothing to do with beauty.