Page 56 of Lachlan

Britt scrambled off the bed, standing still as the room shifted and warped around her.

One tap on the link, and she’d find out her truth.

Her finger hovered over the device, shaking uncontrollably.

What was wrong with her?

After breaking out of the underground prison, she remembered more about her life—memories she knew were her own and not planted in her mind by the man holding her captive. The results could only say one thing.

Unless Hunter was right.

The burned corpse that Alejandro provided to Titus had been the real Brittany Freeman, and her memories were nothing more than the culmination of subliminal messages.

“Britt,” Lachlan’s voice floated across the room. “What are you looking at?”

She couldn’t find her voice. Couldn’t respond. Not until she knew the truth.

“Britt,” he called out, more intense and insistent. He crossed the room, closing the distance between them. Moved faster than she wanted him to, faster than she could … she tapped the link.

The document filled the screen.

Scanning the text, her eyes fell on the results section.

She dropped the phone and covered her face as loud, wailing tears ripped from her body as Lachlan wrapped her in his arms.

“What is it? What were you looking at?” He demanded, a lethal edge in his words. “Talk to me. Tell me why you’re crying.”

“The DNA test results …” She choked out through her tears. “They came in … I know … I know … the truth.”

Lachlan touched her face, gently caressing her cheeks. “You know who you are now.”

“I’m her … I’m me … I’m Brittany Freeman.”

Chapter 35

“I’ve always known ye were Britt.”

The certainty of her identity unleashed something primal between them—relief, desire, need. Lachlan’s mouth claimed hers with fierce possession, his tongue sweeping past her lips and drawing her tongue against his in slow, deliberate strokes that made her pulse quicken. This wasn't a gentle exploration. This was reclamation. And she wanted nothing more than to know she was his and he was hers.

Britt fumbled with the edge of his shirt, lifting it from his body.

“Not here,” Lachlan said. “I want you … in my bed where you belong. Where you’ve always belonged.”

She nodded, words escaping her.

He tossed her over his shoulder. Britt squealed, wrapping her arms around his back and hanging on for dear life.

“I can walk, you know,” she said, laughing.

“It’s faster this way.” He traversed the rooms to his master bedroom at record speed.

As they passed their daughter’s door, Britt stiffened. “What about?—”

“Her door is locked, and not even a hurricane wakes the child up when she’s asleep. We’re good,” Lachlan said, pushing his bedroom door open. He kicked the door closed, then locked it for good measure. In three strides, he was at the edge of the bed. Britt sucked in a sharp breath as her body hurled backward through the air, bouncing several times on the plush mattress.

“That was fun.” She laughed, the sound fading away as she watched Lachlan’s face transition through several different emotions. His eyes, once dark and hungry, turned soft and sentimental as his breath quickened. His expression changed from intense focus to open need. His beautiful amber orbs glistened with tears she knew he’d never let fall but touched her nonetheless.

Britt sat up on the bed, her legs dangling over the edge, wishing he wasn’t so far away.