Page 37 of Claws and Effect

But what truly grabbed her attention were the personal touches scattered throughout. On the dresser sat her favorite scented candles—the exact brand and fragrance she used at home. The bathroom counter displayed her preferred skincare line, products arranged precisely as she kept them in her own suite. A bookshelf held several volumes she recognized from her bedside table at Summit.

Most surprising of all, draped across a chaise lounge was a royal blue cashmere robe identical to her favorite comfort garment, the one she reached for after difficult days.

“How did you...” she began, running her fingers across the familiar softness.

“Seren helped,” Zyle admitted, watching her reaction carefully. “I wanted you to feel at home, not like a guest or... prisoner.”

The thoughtfulness behind the gesture—contacting her best friend, learning her preferences, ensuring familiar comforts surrounded her—penetrated Laykin’s defenses more effectively than any argument could have.

“Thank you,” she said simply, emotion thickening her voice.

Before he could respond, an alarm blared through the house. Steel shutters instantly descended over windows as emergency lighting activated. Zyle moved with startling speed, his body automatically positioning itself between Laykin and potential danger.

“Perimeter breach?” he demanded, one hand already reaching for her.

“No, sir,” a security voice came through hidden speakers. “False alarm. The system detected two maintenance staff signatures in an unauthorized zone.”

Zyle’s posture relaxed marginally, but his expression remained vigilant. “Run a complete security sweep anyway. Authorization code Rubin-Alpha-Seven.”

“Already in progress, sir.”

He turned to Laykin, concern etched across his features. “I should check the security center. Standard protocol with any alert.”

“Go ahead,” she assured him. “I’m perfectly capable of exploring my new quarters without an escort.”

“I’ll be back in twenty minutes,” he promised, hesitating before pressing a swift kiss to her forehead—a gesture so casual and domestic it caught her by surprise. “Don’t wander outside this wing. The override protocols during alerts can be... temperamental.”

As Zyle turned to leave, his hand brushed against what appeared to be an ordinary oak panel beside the fireplace. The wall slid open silently, revealing a hidden passage.

“Secret tunnels? Really?” Laykin raised an eyebrow.

“Panic room,” Zyle corrected. “This one connects to security and the master suite. In case of emergency, head straight there.” He pointed inside. “Code panel is on the right wall. Your access code is 2854.”

“What?” she said with sarcasm. “Not my birthday? How could I remember anything else?”

“The number of initial supporters for the treaty.” His mouth curved slightly. “Though your birthday is programmed as a backup.”

With that revelation, he disappeared down the hallway, leaving Laykin staring at the hidden doorway. Curiosity piqued, she stepped inside to examine the panic room entrance.

The heavily reinforced door slid closed behind her with an ominous click.

“No.” She spun around, pushing against the seamless panel that had become her prison wall. Finding no handle, she frantically searched for the control panel Zyle had mentioned.

There it was—sleek and modern on the right wall. She punched in 2854.

Nothing happened.

She tried her birthday. Still nothing.

A small red light blinked in the corner, accompanied by text she hadn’t noticed initially:SYSTEM OVERRIDE NOT ACTIVE DURING SECURITY ALERTS.

“Perfect,” Laykin muttered, a hysterical laugh bubbling in her throat. Three assassination attempts survived, only to get trapped in a billionaire’s panic room.

The space itself was impressive—approximately fifteen feet square with emergency supplies, communications equipment, a small bathroom, and even a narrow cot against one wall. The air system hummed quietly, maintaining perfect temperature and circulation.

Laykin slumped onto the cot, wincing as her injured side protested. At least her prison was comfortable.

Twenty minutes later, she heard muffled sounds of security personnel searching the house, presumably looking for her. Another fifteen minutes passed before voices approached the panic room door.

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