Page 22 of Lock

“Keep going,” I mumbled.

We broke into the clearing near the fence?—

And I froze.

Two guards lay on the ground near the breach in the metal. Unmoving.

I stumbled back on instinct. “Oh my god—Lock?—”

“They’re alive,” he said immediately. “Just out.”

“But—”

“They deserved worse,” he said flatly. “Leaving you this unprotected? Anyone could’ve walked in tonight.”

“You walked in tonight.”

“Exactly. If I could, someone else could. I just got here first.”

His hand tightened on my wrist again… not painful, but grounding? I was clearly losing it.

“Come on.”

He pulled me through the cut in the fence. I ducked, heart slamming against my ribs.

The van was waiting in the trees, half-concealed by branches. The passenger door opened first, and a guy climbed out. He was tall and broad, with dark hair and darker eyes.

He caught my arm when I stumbled stepping up.

Before I could even mumble a thank you, Lock was there, practically yanking me out of the guy’s hands, pulling me closer to his side.

“Don’t touch him,” Lock snapped.

The man just raised his brows and stepped aside. Like he hadn’t expected that reaction.

“Inside,” Lock ordered.

My legs moved before my brain caught up. I climbed in, my breath catching in my chest when I realized there were two other men inside, watching me.

The van door slid shut behind me, cutting off the cold air and the night and whatever small chance I had of changing any of this.

Lock sat beside me, his thigh pressed against mine like he had no idea what personal space was. Or maybe he doesn’t care.

This man was so confusing. The whole I’m a big strong biker alpha man who is kidnapping you but I’m also being nice? Was it too soon for stockholme syndrome?

His hand was still around my wrist, warm and steady, and his thumb was brushing the inside of it like he didn’t realize he was doing it.

The engine started, and the van lurched forward. My breath caught. That was it. I was gone. Out of my home. Away from my guards. Away from everything familiar.

My dad was going to kill someone. Maybe Lock. Maybe me.

I swallowed hard.

My thoughts spun in circles. And my pulse wouldn’t slow down. And my body…the traitor it was, couldn’t seem to decide what it was feeling.

I’d helped him kidnap me.

I was sitting in a van full of the people my father hated.