Page 108 of Royal Bargain
The city blurs past me in streaks of gray and shadow, every light flashing too bright, every second dragging like an eternity. The closer I get to the waterfront, the worse the knot in my stomach twists.
I’m terrified.
Terrified that something’s happened to her.
Terrified that I won’t get there in time.
But I’m angry too—so goddamn angry I can barely breathe. What the hell was she thinking? Why would she leave like that? Why would she leave Lily?
“Fuck,” I curse, slamming my fist against the wheel.
Did she think I wouldn’t protect them? That I wouldn’t die before I let anyone touch them?
Or was she forced to go?
That thought chills me deeper than the wind off the water. Because if someone made her leave—if they threatened her or cornered her or laid a hand on her?—
I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop myself when I find them, so I grip the wheel tighter, heart pounding, mind racing.
Please be okay.
That’s all I can think. Over and over.
Please be okay. Please be okay.
Because if I’m too late… If I lose her… well, God help whoever is responsible for this.
I don’t know what I’ll do if I’m too late. And the worst part?
A small, quiet voice in the back of my mind is whispering that I already am.
33
ANNIKA
Ifreeze, my breath catching in my throat as the man in black steps out from the shadows.
He moves toward us with quiet, deliberate steps—like a predator that knows it’s already won. Instinctively, I throw my arm in front of Sasha, shielding her without thinking.
She doesn’t budge. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she snaps, her voice sharp and unflinching.
The man stops a few feet away, hands out to show he isn’t armed, but that does nothing to slow the pounding in my chest.
“I’m here on behalf of Anatoly Volkov,” he says calmly, like he’s delivering a dinner invitation instead of a threat.
Sasha scoffs, tilting her chin defiantly. “If Papa wanted to come after her,” she says, jerking her head toward me, “she’d already be tied up in someone’s trunk—or dead. So drop the boogeyman act and get to the point.”
She’s trying to be brave, but I can feel the tremor under her words. And as much as I want to believe she’s right, the fear clawing at my insides won’t let go.
“She’s right,” I say quietly, stepping forward just enough to draw the man’s attention fully to me. “If this was about my father, I’d already be gone.”
The man says nothing—just watches us both like he’s calculating how much of a threat we actually are.
Sasha narrows her eyes. “They’re not here for Papa,” she mutters, almost to herself. “They’re here to bring you to Dariy.”
My blood goes cold.
She turns to me, her voice harder now. “This has his stink all over it. He’s the only one who’d be this theatrical about it.”
