Page 3 of Saving Meri

“You’re new,” the guard said without looking at him. “Don’t recognize you.”

Bear didn’t pause. “I don’t make a habit of attending amateur operations.”

The guard snorted. “This ain’t amateur.”

Bear didn’t reply. He didn’t need to.

They reached a steel door at the end of the hall. The guard produced a key, unlocking it before stepping aside. “She’s all yours.”

Bear followed him through the door. He’d expected a windowless, sterile room with a threadbare bed and perhaps some BDSM equipment. Instead, what he found was a room that was the antithesis of what he had envisioned. It was a complete contradiction—a gilded cage built inside a concrete tomb. The walls were raw, unpolished concrete, their cold gray surfaces stained with age, streaked where water had once leaked through unseen cracks. There were no windows, no sign that the world beyond even existed. The air held a faint, musty dampness, an unshakable reminder of the warehouse that encased this space.

But inside, everything whispered decadence.

A massive four-poster bed dominated the center of the room, draped in heavy crimson silk, the fabric pooling onto the polished concrete floor. Gold-leafed posts gleamed under the dim amber lighting, intricate carvings spiraling toward the ceiling. The mattress was thick, covered in a plush, inviting duvet, the kind meant to tempt and trap.

A bar along the back wall gleamed under recessed lighting, its mahogany shelves stocked with expensive liquor—whiskey, cognac, champagne—each bottle perfectly arranged as if awaiting an exclusive clientele. The crystal decanters sparkled,the contrast against the industrial setting making them seem almost obscene.

A deep velvet chaise lounge sat near the bed, its fabric rich and inviting, meant for indulgence, for watching, for waiting. Across from it, a heavy oak armoire stood tall, its doors closed but hinting at whatever expensive outfits and equipment a buyer might select for the evening’s entertainment.

The lighting was deliberately soft—a series of gold sconces lining the walls, casting warm, flickering shadows. A Persian rug, impossibly soft, sprawled across the cold floor, its intricate patterns a stark contrast to the harsh, unforgiving concrete beneath.

The room reeked of excess, of money thrown carelessly at luxury, designed to distract that this was still a prison. A gilded illusion, meant to soften the reality of what happened here.

But the walls told the truth—there were no windows. No doors except the one that locked from the outside. No way out.

Meri stood in the center of the windowless room. The bruises on her wrists stood out starkly against pale skin, and despite the exhaustion in her stance, she was watching him. Measuring. Calculating.

She wasn’t the same woman who had walked into the Velvet Glove seven months ago, but she was still Meri Vaughn, Archer’s younger sister, and she was about to learn exactly what that meant.

He shut the door.

Meri turned to face him, lifting her chin. “Who the hell are you?”

“The man who’s getting you out of here.”

She let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “And you expect me to believe that?”

Bear reached into his pocket, pulled out a knife, and flipped it open. He didn’t move toward her, didn’t give her any reason to panic. He just let her see it.

Not a threat. A promise.

“You don’t have to believe anything,” he said, as he stepped forward and cut the silken cord that bound her wrists. “But when I tell you to run, you run.”

Something flickered in her eyes. Hesitation. Hope. Bear could tell she wanted to trust him, she was just afraid to do so. He was counting on the strength he saw simmering in her eyes.

Bear turned toward the door, reached for his gun, and tilted his head. “Ready?”

She swallowed, then nodded once.

“Good girl. Let’s go.”

Bear moved first.

The moment Meri gave him that barely there nod, he threw open the door, his Glock already in hand. The guard outside barely had time to register the movement before Bear buried a silenced round between his eyes. The man crumpled to the ground, but there was no time to waste.

He grabbed Meri’s wrist, his grip firm but not punishing, and pulled her into motion. “Stay with me.” His voice was low, steady, leaving no room for argument.

She didn’t resist.

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