Page 147 of Filthy Royal

“Not a sound.” Interrupting her dark thoughts, Damien slipped into the storage unit and, one arm still around her, manually slid the door shut. Then he set her on her feet, threw the cloak over them, drew his laser, and, before she could protest, slapped his other hand over her mouth.

She got it. He wasn’t taking any chances.

They’d moved away from outright hostility to something else, but their past still hung over them. Finding his sister was paramount, and it would take time for them to rebuild trust.

But she also noted that Damien’s handling of her remained careful, and for the first time in a long while—despite the danger around them—she felt almost safe.

“Access code was used. She’s been in here.” One of the many guards who worked for Darvish marched into the room, his aggression palpable even through the closet door. “I can scent it. Sweet omega pussy.”

Behind her, Damien tensed as the male inhaled. Without conscious thought, she pushed back into the solid wall of muscle at her back.

“Could be from earlier.” The second guard didn’t sound as convinced.

“The drawers are open and empty. The screen cracked.”

“Yeah, but the vids are still there, so it could have been the boss. He left in a rush, and I saw his assistant and personal guards carrying cargo.”

“But what about the screen?”

“You know the boss’s temper.”

“We need to check it out anyway.” The guard’s footfalls echoed closer. “Orders are to search everywhere for the female and to initiate protocol only when we’re sure she’s not here.”

The energy around Damien, already tense, darkened.

Scarlett suspected he didn’t like knowing how badly Darvish wanted her. She didn’t like hearing it either.

The storage unit door slid open.

Three laser barrels pointed inside.

Damien’s fingers clenched tight around his weapon handle.

The shadows inside her chose that moment to stir. Her heart pounded fast.

If Maxheim’s cloak didn’t work, they’d be in trouble. Damien could take out these three guards, but more would be right behind, and they might keep her alive, but Damien would be executed.

She would never allow that.

“All clear.” The guards’ lasers swung away. “Check the rest of the space.”

The door slid shut.

Thank the Goddess for Maxheim’s cloak.

She sank against the strong form at her back, her flares of black trapped safely beneath the cloak.

But Damien remained on alert, his weapon aimed at the door.

“Room clear. She’s not here now.” Even through the barrier, the lead guard’s voice carried easily. “You two, stay with me so we can ensure no one slips in. The rest of you sweep the floor. Be thorough. Make sure she’s not here, or I promise you’ll be very sorry. But don’t take too fucking long. Otherwise, we’re all toast.”

There was grumbling, then the pounding of boots, the guards’ procedures playing out exactly as she knew they would, minus the part about them looking so hard for her.

Next, they’d do a sweep of the entire floor. Then security would haul ass before the air was sucked from the space and the flammable gas pumped in, deliberately destroying everything within.

She needed to ensure she and Damien were long gone by then.

While risky, she’d determined their best plan was to wait until the guards left the room and then use the cloak to sneak into the corridor and down the elevator. It would require some luck, as they’d have to bypass clusters of guards patrolling the floor and hope that none marched into them, but she honestly didn’t think there was any other option besides a full-scale battle. The numbers just weren’t on their side.

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