Page 21 of Taken By the Outlaw

"Don't," I interrupt, not wanting her to relive it, not wanting to think about what could have happened if I'd been a minute later. "It's over. You're safe now."

"Because of you." She lifts her head, looking at me with those clear, honest eyes that see too much. "Why did you come after me? You could have let me go. I would have been out of your life, your problem solved."

The question makes me tense. Why did I go after her? The easy answer is possession—she's mine, I don't let go of what's mine. But it's more than that. The thought of her gone creates a physical pain I've never experienced before.

"I couldn't let you go," I admit, the honesty unfamiliar on my tongue. "Not like that. Not ever."

She studies my face in the dim light, as if searching for the truth behind my words. Whatever she sees seems to satisfy her, because she settles back against my chest with a small sigh.

"What happens now?" she asks.

Now. The future stretches before us, complicated and uncertain. The Vipers know about her, know she means something to me. The diamonds still need to be moved, the exchange completed. My crew still has doubts about my decisions, my leadership. And Emilia still has a life waiting for her—responsibilities, family, normalcy.

But all of that feels distant, secondary to the woman in my arms. To the unexpected peace I feel with her here, safe. To the realization that I'm falling for her in ways I never thought possible.

"Now, you stay with me," I tell her, my arms tightening around her. "Where I can protect you. Where you belong."

"For how long?" she asks again, echoing her earlier question.

This time, I have a different answer.

"For as long as it takes," I say. "For as long as you need to understand that what's between us isn't temporary. That I'm not letting you go. That you're mine, Emilia, in every way that matters."

She's quiet for so long I think she might have fallen asleep. Then I feel her nod against my chest, a small movement of acceptance.

"Yours," she whispers, the word floating between us like a promise. Like truth.

I should feel triumphant. I've won—claimed her, convinced her to stay, broken through her resistance. But what I feel instead is responsibility, weighing heavy on my shoulders. She's trusting me with herself, with her safety, with her heart. No one has ever trusted me that way before.

And as I hold her, listening to her breathing even out as she drifts toward sleep, I make a silent vow. I will be worthy of that trust. I will keep her safe, not just from external threats, but from the darkness in my own life, in my own soul.

Because somewhere between kidnapping Emilia West and falling into bed with her, something fundamental has changed inside me. Something I never thought possible.

I'm falling for her. Hard. Completely. Irrevocably.

And I'll do whatever it takes to make her mine forever.

nine

Emilia

Morning light filtersthrough the curtains, painting stripes across Clark's sleeping face. I've been awake for nearly an hour, just watching him, memorizing the way his features soften in sleep, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath my palm. Less than a week ago, I was shelving books and worrying about my mother's medication schedule. Now I'm lying naked in the bed of a biker gang leader, my body bearing the sweet ache of his possession, my heart tumbling into something that terrifies me with its intensity. I should feel trapped, should be plotting my next escape. Instead, I feel strangely free—as if I've been released from a cage I never knew I lived in.

I trace a finger lightly over the tattoo on his shoulder—the wolf that earned him his nickname. In sleep, he doesn't look like the dangerous criminal who beat three men unconscious to protect me. He looks almost peaceful, the hard lines of his face relaxed, vulnerability visible in ways he'd never allow while conscious.

What's happening to me? How has my moral compass shifted so dramatically that I'm captivated by a man who kidnapped me, who deals in violence and theft? A man who controls me, possesses me, refuses to let me go?

Except that's not the whole truth, is it? Because when I ran, he followed—not to punish me, but to protect me. When he found me in the clutches of his enemies, he fought for me with a ferocity that should frighten me but instead makes me feel precious, valued. When he brought me back, his anger was born of fear for my safety, not rage at my disobedience.

And in the darkness, when we came together in desperate need, he held me like I might break, like I was something rare and irreplaceable. His possession is absolute, yes—but so is his protection. His devotion.

Clark stirs beneath my touch, ice-blue eyes opening to find me watching him. For a moment, he simply looks at me, something warm and wondering in his gaze.

"You're still here," he says, voice rough with sleep.

I smile slightly. "Where else would I be?"

His hand comes up to cover mine where it rests on his chest. "After last night, I half expected to wake up and find you gone again."

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