Page 172 of Stolen By the Heartless Duke

Jane refused to look away.

Strachan smiled. “Your husband is a difficult man to hurt. But everyone has a weakness. And his weakness...is that he loves you.”

Jane’s heart pounded. She said nothing.

Strachan leaned closer. “Hurting you will wound the Duke of Sunderford far more deeply than any bullet ever could.”

The words settled over her like ice. Because in that moment, Jane understood. She was not the target. She was the weapon. And Strachan intended to use her against Hector.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Hector knew something was wrong before he even stepped through the door. The note had been brief. Too brief.

Urgent enough to pull him from the gentlemen’s club without a second thought, but lacking the details his contact usually provided. Still, there had been no reason to question it. The man had been cautious from the beginning.

A message like that could only mean something important had surfaced. Something regarding Strachan. Something they could finally use.

The carriage stopped outside the government offices, and Hector stepped down before the footman had fully opened the door.

He moved quickly through the corridors, ignoring the curious glances from those who recognized him. His mind was already racing ahead.

Perhaps Strachan had moved. Perhaps the warehouses had revealed more than expected. Perhaps they finally had enough evidence to bring him down. The possibilities had barely formed before he reached the familiar office.

He knocked once.

“Come in.”

Hector entered. The man behind the desk looked up in surprise.

That was the first warning.

“Hector.” Edward Hale stood up to greet him. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

Hector frowned. “You sent for me.”

The man’s brow furrowed. “I did?”

The silence that followed felt unnatural.

Hector stared at him. “Your note.”

“My note?” The man’s confusion deepened. “I have sent no note.”

For several seconds, Hector did not move.

He simply looked at the man before him, waiting for the explanation that would make everything make sense. A mistake. A misunderstanding. Anything. But the man’s expression remained genuine.

He had not written to him. He had not requested a meeting. A cold sensation moved through Hector’s chest. “When was the last time you contacted me?”

“Three days ago.”

“And you have learned nothing since then?”

“Nothing that required your immediate attention.”

The room seemed to narrow. Hector thought of the note.Meet me immediately. It concerns Strachan. Come alone.

Come alone. The words echoed. Not a request. A trap. His blood turned cold.Jane. He did not allow himself to finish the thought. He turned sharply.