Page 32 of Protecting Lanie

Every muscle in Archer’s body went tight. "When?"

"Earlier." Her voice was barely audible over the hum of the crowd. "By the bar. I turned around, and he was just... watching me. Like he was waiting."

Archer forced himself to breathe, to rein in the anger clawing at his chest. This wasn’t the time to lose control. He had to think, had to focus.

His earpiece buzzed with static.

"Archer," Reyna’s voice came through, sharp and urgent. "We’ve got confirmation—Molina’s in one of the VIP suites upstairs. And he’s not alone."

Archer’s gut twisted. "How many?"

"Four men with him. He’s got a laptop running, which means he’s probably communicating with buyers."

"Victims?" His voice dropped into something lethal.

A pause. "We’re working on it, but yeah. We think there are at least three girls up there being prepped."

Archer exhaled slowly, the rage in his veins running white-hot. This wasn’t just about Lanie anymore.

"Keep your eyes on them," he ordered. "I’ll be up soon."

"Copy that."

He tapped his earpiece off and turned back to Lanie. She was watching him, her chest rising and falling too fast, her lips pressed together like she was bracing for what came next.

"You’re leaving," he told her.

Lanie stiffened. "What?"

"You’re going home."

"No."

Archer arched a brow, tilting his head. "That wasn’t a request."

Her jaw tightened. "I’m not running anymore, Archer. Not from him."

A muscle flexed in his cheek. "This isn’t running. This is retreating to a safe place, so you survive."

Lanie crossed her arms, frustration burning in her dark eyes. "And what if I don’t want to survive like that? What if I want to fight?"

Archer took a slow, measured breath. He wanted to shake her, to make her understand just how dangerous this was, and that it was his job to protect her. But she was looking at him with something fierce in her gaze—determination, defiance.

She wasn’t just scared. She was furious. And damn it, he respected that... but that didn’t mean he was letting her stay.

Archer stepped forward, backing her against the nearest pillar, caging her in with his body. "Listen to me, little one," he murmured, his voice low, dark. "You don’t get to argue with me about this. Not when it comes to your safety."

Her breath hitched, but she didn’t look away. "I’m not yours to control, Archer."

Something dangerous flickered in his gaze. He reached down, brushing his fingers along the curve of her throat, feeling her pulse flutter beneath his touch. "Aren’t you?"

Lanie’s lips parted, a shiver rolling through her body. “You don’t own me.”

Archer let his hand drift lower, tracing the delicate lace of her mask, the smooth line of her collarbone. "I own your safety, little one," he said softly. "And right now, that means getting you the hell out of here."

Lanie swallowed hard, but she didn’t argue.

"Mitch is waiting in the alley with a car," he continued. "You’ll go straight to my place. I’ll have people stationed outside. You don’t open the door for anyone but me, Reyna, or Logan. Understood?"

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