Page 98 of Royal Bargain
Just a number I don’t recognize.
I open it.
Unknown: You should’ve kept a better eye on your little girlfriend. She’s already gone.
My stomach drops.
For a second, the world tilts sideways. Everything else—the deals, the power plays, the promises of legacy—burns away in an instant.
I try to call Shane. It rings once. Twice. No answer.
The second hand on my watch ticks too loud, too slow.
And all I can hear is Ana’s voice from earlier in the week, whispering that she didn’t want to feel caged.
Goddamn it.
I’m already running for the car.
31
ANNIKA
Islip through the gap in the chain-link fence, breath catching as it rattles shut behind me. The rusted metal groans loud in the quiet, and I flinch, heart jumping.
Like the sound alone could give me away.
The old shipyardstretches out like a graveyard—dark, still, forgotten.
The air bites at my cheeks. The smell of salt and rot curls in my nose, thick and sour. Shipping containers rise like tombstones in the distance, their jagged shadows spilling across the gravel under the stuttering orange light of a busted streetlamp. There are no cameras here. No lights. And no second chances. Every step I take, the gravel underfoot crunches too loudly, making too much noise. I feel too exposed here. It’s too open. Every nerve in my body screams, telling me to go back. To run home to my daughter and my… to Liam.
My thoughts race. What if it’s a trap? What if Sasha doesn’t come alone?
What if she doesn’t come at all?
I stop behind a rusted metal crate and scan the dark, half-expecting to see a muzzle flash, or the glint of a scope catching light from the distant streetlamp. I tell myself I’m being paranoid.
But the truth is, I’ve learned paranoia is just survival wearing a mask.
My hands are trembling. I stuff them in my coat pockets, gripping the fabric inside to steady them, but it doesn’t help much. My mouth is dry. My mind keeps drifting back to Lily—curled in her blankets, probably sleeping soundly. I should be with her. I shouldn’t be here.
And yet, I have to be.
Because I need answers. Because the walls are closing in. Because if I don’t figure out who’s behind this, I won’t live long enough to protect her.
A sound behind me makes me whip around, my breath catching.
Footsteps.
I freeze.
Then, Sasha steps into view.
She’s alone. No backup. No weapon that I can see.
She looks the same, but not. There’s tension in her shoulders, exhaustion in her eyes. She stops a few paces away from me, her face unreadable in the shadows.
“I told you to lay low,” she says flatly. “And you didn’t listen.”
