Page 56 of Beneath the Surface

“Why were you at the courthouse?” he demanded, his voice controlled but barely hiding the anger simmering beneath the surface.

Isobel’s heart sank further, her throat tightening. Larson, he was so sharp, so cold. “I… I had to deliver an urgent court-ordered report. The…” she stammered, trying to explain, but he cut her off before she could finish.

“You were told to stay at your office,” he snapped, his voice edged with the hard authority of someone who wasn’t just angry but deeply concerned. “Do you realize that everywhere you go, you open yourself up to danger? Other people can potentially die because you’re putting yourself in danger.”

The words hit her like a slap, and the truth of them stung. Isobel’s hands trembled harder, and the tea in her cup spilled into her lap as her body shook with anxiety. Her thoughts were muddled, Larson’s accusation mixing with the guilt already eating away at her. What had she done?

Larson’s anger softened slightly, but the tension in his voice remained. “We’re trying to protect you, Isobel, but you make it hard when you disregard instructions.” He ran a hand through his hair, clearly fighting to keep his temper in check. “You need to trust us. Trust me. And trust Brad.”

Isobel wanted to speak, to apologize, but her words stuck in her throat. The enormity of what she’d done, and what it potentially cost, slammed into her.

Larson moved to his desk and dropped an evidence bag in front of her, the contents catching her attention immediately. Inside was a flattened, crumpled note, the handwriting jagged and unsettling. Isobel’s heart pounded as she reached for it, her hands still shaking as she read the message:

Dear Isobel,

It’s all falling apart, isn’t it? No one will believe you anymore. Soon, there won’t be anyone left to help you. Maybe you should just stop trying. Before it’s too late.

Her breath hitched, but her eyes remained dry. This wasn’t just a warning. It was a taunt—a sick promise that things were about to spiral even further out of control. The guilt and terror crashed over her in waves, making it hard to breathe.

She looked up at Larson, her voice barely a whisper. “I didn’t realize…”

Larson’s frustration was still evident. “What didn’t you realize? We’re looking at two things here, Isobel. We discussed what can happen when you disregard our safety plan. That note, it’s designed to make you feel isolated from the people who are trying to help you. Is it working?”

She squirmed in her seat. “A self-fulling prophecy. I anger you—I lose your support.”

Larson continued, “This monster is smart. This murder was preplanned. You breaking the rules had nothing to do with the murder itself. But think, Isobel, you also could have been in the path of the murderer.”

Isobel nodded, her guilt suffocating her. She had defied Brad’s orders. She risked her life and the two cops with her. There was possibly collateral damage at the scene. She could only imagine what Brad would say, how livid he would be.

Larson took a seat at his desk and booted up his computer. For the next three hours, she sat in silence, stuck in her own self-recrimination.

When she was unable to bear the quiet one more moment, as if on cue, the door clicked open again, and Brad stepped intothe room, his face a mask of calm fury. His eyes immediately locked onto Isobel, his expression a mixture of anger, worry, and disappointment. She could see the edge of his Dom side flickering in his gaze, the dominant authority he hadn’t yet showed her in full force—but it was there now, and it terrified her.

Brad crossed the room in two swift strides, his gaze not leaving hers. “Isobel,” he said quietly, his voice sharp but controlled. “You disobeyed me.”

Her heart clenched at the words, and her entire body tensed under his scrutiny. “I… I didn’t mean to. But…I had to get a report to the judge. It’s my job,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

He stood over her, his presence imposing, his frustration palpable. “You put yourself in danger. You put the officers responsible for your safety at risk.”

She flinched under his words, guilt and fear tightening her chest. Brad crouched in front of her, his tone softening slightly, but his eyes still intense. “I can’t protect you if you don’t follow my orders, Belle. Do you understand that?”

Isobel nodded as she lowered her gaze, her hands still trembling in her lap. Brad’s fingers tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his eyes.

“This isn’t just about you anymore,” he murmured. “You need to trust me—fully. No more disobeying. We will deal with the consequences at home.”

His words settled over her, and she knew he wasn’t just speaking out of anger. He was speaking out of a need to protect her, to keep her safe in a world where her life was at risk.

Isobel’s throat tightened as she whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Brad’s expression softened, but his voice remained firm. “We’ll talk about it later. Right now, I’m making sure you’resafe.” He glanced over at Larson, who gave a slight nod of agreement.

Brad stood, his presence commanding the room. "Let’s get this under control. We’re not letting him get any closer.” He looked at Larson. “I’ll call you tonight about Mr. Viper Lord.”

And just like that, Isobel knew Brad’s dominance wasn’t about control—it was about keeping her alive. She could only hope she hadn’t pushed him too far.

Twenty-Two

Brad couldn’t shake the simmering anger beneath the surface as he walked back to the car, his hand gripping Isobel’s arm with a firm but unyielding grasp. She said nothing as he opened the passenger door and helped her into the seat, buckling her seatbelt with clipped, precise movements. The silence between them was thick as he climbed into the driver’s seat, his jaw ticking, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.

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