Page 73 of Claimed By the Boss

The words keep me grounded. They give me something to focus on. Lyra is alive, and I’ll fight to my dying breath to keep it that way.

I move closer to the screen, standing behind Alek as if proximity could somehow bring me closer to her. The audio sharpens for a moment, catching her voice again, clearer this time. I close my eyes, commit it to memory, wrap it around me like armor. Each second she speaks is proof she’s still fighting, still holding on.

But then Rurik interrupts. His words twist, mocking me, mocking her, mocking the very idea that she could matter to me. I want to reach through the wires, through the static, and put a bullet in him where he stands.

Instead, I grip the back of Alek’s chair until the wood creaks.

“Trace it,” I order him.

Alek nods, fingers flying across the keyboard, pulling coordinates from scraps of signal strength. It isn’t easy. The feed is bouncing, shifting, rerouted a dozen times to hide its origin. But every signal has a flaw. Every voice leaves an echo.

I hear Lyra again, softer this time. My throat tightens. I want to tell her I can hear her. I want to tell her I’m coming for her. But all I can do is stand here, chained to this room, while her voice bleeds through the speakers.

The men around me shift uncomfortably, hearing what I hear, knowing the weight of it. None of them speak. They know the silence is sacred.

Alek curses under his breath. “The signal is bouncing through half the borough. It could take all night.”

“Then work faster,” I snap.

He swallows and nods, leaning closer to the monitor.

I turn away before my rage consumes me entirely. Alek doesn’t speak, but his silence reminds me of the balance I have to keep. If I lose myself completely, I lose her.

I lower my voice, speaking as much to myself as to the room. “Hold on, Lyra. I’m coming.”

Eventually, I hear Rurik’s boots drag across the floor. He mutters something to one of his men, his voice thick with command, and then a door shuts with a final metal thud. Silence follows, broken only by the shuffle of the younger guards left behind. My chest loosens. At least he’s gone.

Lyra’s voice cuts in again, soft and deliberate as she speaks to the guards. At first, I think she’s just talking to stay sane, but then I realize there’s structure in her questions. She’s leading them.

The guard doesn’t even realize it. He answers her questions thoughtlessly, as if they’re too stupid to even warrant his silence. He tells her the exact location of the warehouse, probably thinking it won’t matter. He can’t know that we’re listening. And it suddenly hits me that she does. I guess my little project for her wasn’t as inconspicuous as I thought.

I slam my fist against the table and shout, “Good girl!”

My voice rips through the room, startling half the men at the computers. My blood surges with relief and rage all at once.

“Let’s move out!” I tell them, already heading out the door.

The console tech shouts after me, “I’ll text the address!” but I barely hear him.

My legs are carrying me down the hall before the words finish leaving his lips.

Alek is at my heels without being told. The others are seconds behind, boots pounding the concrete as we funnel toward the garage. Keys jangle, engines turn, the place explodes into movement.

The city lights blur as we tear through the streets. I lean forward in the passenger seat of the SUV, my eyes locked on the blackribbon of road ahead, my jaw set so tight it aches. Alek drives, his knuckles white on the wheel, his mind already in the warehouse with me. The second SUV pulls up behind, headlights low, its engine growling. A third vehicle takes the parallel street, ready to cut off an escape route.

All I can think about is her. The thought of her sitting in some filthy chair, surrounded by Vasiliev scum, makes something primal in me coil tight. Every second that ticks by feels like another piece of her slipping from me.

Alek glances at me. “Do we go loud or quiet?”

“Quiet until we can’t be,” I answer, my voice low. “We’re not wasting bullets. We get straight to her and only fight our way out when we have to.”

He nods once, then lays out the rest without me needing to ask.

“I’m setting up two teams on the flanks, one at the roof access, another holding the power grid. We sweep in from the east service door. You take the lead.”

I give a short grunt of approval. It’s exactly what I would have come up with. We’ve been working together so long, we’re basically one mind now.

The drive flies by, but my thoughts drag. I think of her hand in mine at the villa, the way she looked at me when I told her I loved her. I think of the child she carries, a piece of both of us. And then I think of Rurik. The man who took my father. The man who thinks he can take her. I imagine his face when I put the muzzle to his forehead and erase him from this world. That image steadies me.