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As night falls completely, turning the windows into mirrors that reflect the room behind me, I make a silent promise to myself. I won’t become the victim Gio expects. I won’t break under isolation or threats. I am Audrey Worthington, and for the first time in my life, I know exactly who that is. I’m not the perfect daughter or the obedient fiancée, rather a woman who has found her own voice, her own strength, her own love.

A woman worth fighting for. A woman worth saving. A woman who will save herself if given half a chance.

I settle into one of the armchairs, the letter opener a reassuring pressure against my spine, and begin to plan. Reign is coming. Of that, I have no doubt. The only question is whether I’ll still be here when he arrives, or whether I’ll have already found my own way out.

TWENTY-FIVE

REIGN

The lake waterlaps against the hull of the small fishing boat as I guide it silently toward Vega’s property. No motor. Just oars cutting through black water, each stroke bringing me closer to Audrey. Closer to the man who took her.

The night vision goggles reveal the sprawling lakehouse in shades of green and gray, three stories of glass and stone perched on the edge of the water like a fortress. Four guards patrol the perimeter, moving in predictable patterns. Sloppy. Overconfident. Their mistake.

I scan the upper windows, looking for any sign of movement, any hint of where they’re keeping her. My jaw clenches so hard my teeth might crack. Six hours. She’s been in Vega’s hands for six fucking hours.

“Two guards at the main entrance,” Marcus whispers from beside me. “Another by the boathouse. Fourth circling the east perimeter.”

The rage burning through my veins makes it hard to focus on anything but the need to get to her. To feel her safe in my arms again. To make Vega pay for touching what’s mine.

“Ben’s in position,” Marcus continues, checking his phone. “Ready to create the diversion when we give the signal.”

“Good.” I guide the boat toward a small cove, hidden from the main house by a cluster of trees. “We go in quiet. No guns unless absolutely necessary.”

“And Vega?”

I meet his eyes, letting him see exactly what I plan to do to the man who took Audrey. “He’s mine.”

We beach the boat silently, pulling it far enough onto the shore that it won’t drift away. I check my weapons one last time. I’ve got a combat knife at my back, my AR-15, zip ties and tactical flashlight in my cargo pockets.

Everything I need to get her out.

Everything I need to end this.

“You take the boathouse,” I tell Marcus as we crouch at the tree line. “I’ll handle the perimeter guard. We meet at the east entrance in five minutes.”

Marcus nods, his expression grim in the moonlight. “Be careful. These aren’t rent-a-cops. They’re ex-military.”

“So are we.” I check my watch, synchronizing with Ben’s position on the opposite side of the property. “And I’ve got more motivation.”

We split up, Marcus moving toward the boathouse while I circle toward the guard patrolling the eastern perimeter. The man moves with the confidence of someone who doesn’t expect trouble. He’s got a cigarette in one hand, a radio in the other, and his gaze sweeps lazily across the grounds.

I approach from his blind spot, moving through the shadows like I was taught in Special Forces. The skills come back automatically, muscle memory from years of operations in hostile territory. But this is different. This isn’t some mission in a foreign country. This is Audrey.

This is everything.

The guard pauses to light another cigarette, his back to me.

I close the distance with silent strides, one arm wrapping around his throat in a practiced chokehold while my other hand clamps over his mouth.

He struggles, dropping his cigarette as his hands claw at my arm. I apply pressure to his carotid artery, cutting off blood flow to his brain. Fifteen seconds later, he goes limp.

I lower him to the ground, zip-tying his wrists and ankles before dragging him into the underbrush. He’ll wake up with a headache, but he’ll live. I can’t say the same for Vega.

Moving toward the house, I spot Marcus at the boathouse. He gives me a quick hand signal. One guard neutralized. I return the signal, then point toward the main entrance where two more guards stand watch.

My earpiece crackles softly.

“In position,” Ben’s voice comes through. “Ready when you are.”