## Liam''s Perspective


    I crept along the shadows of the Ashworth estate, counting guards and mapping escape routes. Something was off. The security had tripled since myst visit, with armed men at every entrance. This wasn''t normal wedding preparation security.


    Movement in a side courtyard caught my eye. I scaled the wall silently and perched on a decorative ledge for a better view.


    Below me, Corbin Ashworth paced like a caged animal. Across from him stood an older man in traveler''s clothes. Their bodynguage screamed tension. I focused my enhanced hearing on their conversation.


    "You''ve interfered for thest time," Corbin snarled. "First with that worthless Knight boy, now this?"


    The older man stood his ground. "The Ashworth name meant something once. Honor. Integrity. You''ve twisted it into a mockery."


    With a jolt, I realized this must be Michael Ashworth – Isabelle''s grandfather and the former patriarch. The man who''d sent her to deliver that token to me all those months ago.


    "Honor doesn''t build empires," Corbin spat. "Power does. And I won''t let your outdated sentiments ruin what I''ve built."


    Michael shook his head. "You''ve built nothing but a house of lies."


    Corbin''s face darkened dangerously. Without warning, he struck Michael across the face. The older man staggered but didn''t fall.


    "Guards!" Corbin shouted.


    Two burly men appeared instantly.


    "Take him to the east wing," Corbin ordered. "And make sure he never leaves."


    Michael wiped blood from his lip. "You would imprison your own father?"


    Corbin leaned in close. "I would do far worse."


    My blood ran cold as Corbin lowered his voice to a whisper that most wouldn''t hear. But my enhanced senses caught every word.


    "Take him to the old wine cer," he murmured to the guards. "Make it look like an ident. The old man fell. Tragic, really."


    The guards exchanged ufortable nces but nodded.


    This wasn''t imprisonment. This was murder. Patricide.


    Michael seemed to sense it too. He struggled as the guards grabbed his arms, but age had weakened him. They began dragging him toward a side door.


    I had seconds to decide. This wasn''t my fight. I came for Isabelle. Getting involved would blow my cover and potentially ruin my chance to save her.


    But I couldn''t watch a father murdered by his son.


    I leapt from my perch,nding silently behind the guards. One blow to each man''s neck pressure point, and they crumpled unconscious.


    Michael Ashworth stared at me in shock.


    "Mr. Knight?" he whispered.


    I nodded curtly. "We need to move. Now."


    A slow p echoed across the courtyard. I whirled to face Corbin, who stood watching us with cold amusement.


    "The hero arrives," he said mockingly. "Right on schedule."


    More guards poured into the courtyard, surrounding us.


    "Kill them both," Corbin ordered. "And make it painful."


    I pushed Michael behind me. "Run. East gate. Someone''s waiting there."


    "But—"


    "Go!" I shoved him toward the exit. "I''ll handle this."


    The guards charged. I met them with cold efficiency, my movements a blur. Bodies fell around me, none dead but all incapacitated. I held back, using just enough force to disable.


    A movement caught my eye – Eamon had appeared at the far side of the courtyard, hustling Michael toward safety. Good. At least the old man would survive.


    "Impressive," Corbin remarked as thest guard fell. "But pointless."


    We faced each other across the courtyard strewn with groaning bodies.


    "You were going to kill your own father," I said, disgust evident in my voice.


    Corbin shrugged. "Family is just another tool, Knight. Something you''ll never understand."


    I crossed the courtyard slowly, deliberately. With each step, I saw Corbin''s confident fa?ade crack slightly.


    "You''re not even worth killing," I said quietly.


    His eyes widened. "You think you can threaten me? In my own home?"


    I stopped directly in front of him. "This isn''t a threat. It''s a fact. You''re nothing without your guards and your money and your name."


    "I am Corbin Ashworth!" he roared. "Head of the most powerful family in Veridia City!"


    "And yet," I replied calmly, "here you stand. Alone. Trembling."


    He was indeed trembling – with rage or fear, I couldn''t tell.


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    "You know what''s truly pathetic?" I continued. "You were going to murder the man who gave you everything. Your own father."


    "He was in my way," Corbin hissed.


    Something snapped inside me. Before I could stop myself, my hand shed out, striking Corbin across the face so hard he spunpletely around before crashing to the ground.


    Hey there, stunned, blood trickling from his split lip.


    I crouched beside him, my voice a deadly whisper. "I could kill you right now. It would be so easy."


    For the first time, real fear showed in his eyes.


    "But I won''t," I continued. "Not because you deserve mercy. But because Michael deserves better than a son who died like a coward."


    I stood up, looking down at the pathetic figure. "One day, Michael will return to lead this family again. And you''ll be nothing but a shameful memory."


    Corbin struggled to his knees. "You think this changes anything? Isabelle will still marry Dashiell. The wedding preparations are alreadyplete."


    I froze. "When?"


    A cruel smile formed on his bloodied lips. "Three days. She''s being fitted for her wedding gown as we speak."


    My hands clenched into fists. Three days. Just seventy-two hours to save her.


    "This isn''t over," I said quietly.


    Corbinughed – a harsh, ugly sound. "You''re right about that. When I''m done with you, Knight, you''ll beg for death. And everyone you care about will suffer first."


    I stared at him, memorizing his face – the face of a man who would destroy his own blood for power.


    "Goodbye, Corbin," I said finally. "Enjoy your empty victory while itsts."


    I turned my back on him and walked away, every instinct screaming at me to end him now. But I knew better. Killing Corbin would onlyplicate things, create a martyr. And right now, I needed to focus on Isabelle.


    As I reached the courtyard exit, I heard him scramble to his feet.


    "LIAM KNIGHT!" he bellowed after me, his voice cracking with rage. "YOU DARE TO HIT ME! I WILL SHRED YOU TO PIECES!!!"


    I didn''t look back. His threats were just noise – the impotent raging of a small man in a big position. I had bigger concerns now.


    Three days to stop a wedding. Three days to save Isabelle.


    The clock was ticking.