Page 107 of Royal Bargain
The sky outside is darkening, shadows long across the pavement, and I feel like I'm racing a damn clock I can't see.
Halfway there, my phone rings.
Rory.
I put it on speaker. “Tell me you found her.”
“We didn’t,” he says grimly.
“Fuck,” I mutter, jaw clenched. “I think she went to Miranda.”
“Well, pray to God you’re right and she’s still there,” Rory says. “Because if she’s not—if we can’t find her in time—you’d better be prepared for the fallout.”
My hands tighten around the steering wheel.
“What fallout?” I ask, but I already know.
“If the Russians get to her first—this turns into war.”
I’m about to hang up on Rory when another buzz vibrates against the console.
Blocked number.
Another message.
I open it—and my whole body goes cold.
A photo.
Ana.
She’s looking over her shoulder, eyes wide, mouth parted like she was about to shout. Her hair’s down—no disguise. No attempt to hide. She’s wearing the same soft sweater she had on this morning, the one Lily drooled on before her nap.
She looks terrified.
But behind her—blurred in the background—is a familiar structure. A rusted railing. Faded industrial signage. The cracked curve of a dockyard floodlight.
My pulse stutters.
The old shipyard.
I toss the phone onto the seat and hit the gas.
“She’s at the shipyard,” I growl into the speaker. “The old one—pier 14. I know that spot. I know it.”
“You sure?” Rory says, voice sharp.
“I don’t guess about this kind of thing.”
“Alright. I’ll send backup.”
“Don’t bother,” I snap. “I’m not waiting.”
I take the next turn fast enough to rattle my teeth, tires squealing as I rocket toward the waterfront.
They want me to come. They sent that picture like bait, thinking I’d panic.
But I’m not panicking. I’m coming for blood.
