Chapter 7 - The Greenhouse Intruder
The morning sun filtered through the massive glass panes of the estate's sprawling Victorian greenhouse, casting geometric patterns of light and shadow across the flagstone floor. I had come here seeking a moment of quiet refuge after a sleepless night spent cataloging the Matriarch's archival papers. The earthy smell of damp soil and blooming orchids usually grounded me, but today my nerves felt frayed.
I was kneeling beside a stone planter, sorting through a box of old ledger books, when a sharp snap of breaking glass echoed from the far end of the structure.
I froze, my breath catching in my throat. I stood up slowly, stepping behind a dense thicket of tall ferns. Through the emerald leaves, I saw a figure moving stealthily among the exotic flora—a man dressed in dark tactical gear, slipping a small leather folio into a waterproof bag. It was one of the documents Ronan had asked me to secure.
"Hey!" I shouted before I could stop myself.
The intruder whirled around, his eyes widening in surprise before hardening into malice. He pulled a heavy metal wrench from his belt and lunged toward me. Panic surged through my veins; I scrambled backward, tripping over the edge of the stone planter, sending clay pots crashing to the floor in a chaotic clatter.
Before the man could reach me, the heavy glass door of the greenhouse burst open.
"Step away from her," Ronan’s voice rang out, cold and lethal.
He didn't hesitate. Ronan closed the distance between them with terrifying speed. The intruder swung the wrench, but Ronan ducked the blow, driving a brutal right hook into the man's ribs. A sickening crunch echoed through the humid air as the intruder collapsed against a rack of potted ferns, dropping the stolen folio.
As the man scrambled to his feet and bolted through the shattered glass panel, Ronan didn't give chase. Instead, he immediately turned his attention to me, his chest heaving as he checked my arms and shoulders for injuries.
"Are you hurt?" he demanded, his voice uncharacteristically urgent.
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"I'm fine," I breathed, my hand trembling as I touched my sleeve. "Just... shaken."
Ronan let out a harsh breath, his dark eyes softening just a fraction as he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it against a shallow scratch on my forearm where a stray piece of glass had grazed me. The proximity was overwhelming, the scent of cedar and rain filling my senses as the adrenaline slowly began to recede.
