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TWENTY-THREE

REIGN

The engines of the Gulfstream hum as technicians make their final checks. Sunset spills across the tarmac in streaks of orange and gold, the sky preparing for night.

In less than an hour, we’ll be in that sky, Audrey beside me, leaving Cooper Heights and all its bullshit behind. My chest tightens with something unfamiliar. Anticipation, maybe. Or the closest thing to happiness I’ve felt in years.

I check my watch again. Twenty minutes since Audrey’s call.

Her voice had been breathless, excited. In the three months since San Diego, I’ve heard that laugh too rarely.

Seen too little of the real Audrey, the one who came alive in my arms, who matched me desire for desire, strength for strength.

Vega and her stepmother kept her caged, collared, controlled.

Tonight, I’m breaking those chains for good.

I scan the horizon, searching for the headlights of her BMW. The private airstrip is deserted except for our plane and the two SUVs I arranged for transport. No signs of trouble yet, but my instincts are firing anyway. I roll my shoulders, trying to dispel the tension.

The sound of tires on gravel draws my attention. A black Range Rover approaches, familiar enough that I don’t reach for my weapon. Marcus. Right on schedule.

He parks beside one of the SUVs and climbs out.

“All set?” he asks, scanning the area as he approaches, a habit neither of us has ever broken.

“Plane’s ready. Pilot’s done his checks. We’re just waiting on Audrey.”

Marcus nods, his eyes moving to the empty road beyond the hangar. “She on her way?”

“Twenty minutes out, max.” I check my watch again. “She called when she left her parent’s house.”

“And you’re sure no one followed her from the estate? That’s a long drive to stay undetected.”

“She knows what she’s doing.” The defensiveness in my voice surprises even me. “She took the route we practiced, stuck to the back roads. And she’s got the burner if there’s trouble. Everything squared away on your end?”

“Yep. I’ve got Rodriguez handling the Blackwell account. Johnson’s taking point on the new hotel contract.” He hesitates, then adds, “I’ve set things up to run without you indefinitely. Just in case.”

The unspoken question hangs between us—are you coming back?—but Marcus knows better than to ask directly.

Truth is, I don’t have an answer yet. Cooper Heights was never home, just a place I built a business. The only thing that matters now is getting Audrey away from Vega, away from her stepmom, away from the life that’s slowly suffocating her.

“Appreciate it.” I clap him on the shoulder. “If things go smoothly, I’ll check in once we’re settled in Montana. If not...” I shrug. “You know what to do.”

“Always do.” He gives me a rare smile. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re doing the right thing. You tell Ben yet?”

“Tell me what?”

The voice behind us makes us both turn.

Ben stands at the entrance to the hangar, his gym bag slung over one shoulder.

Sweat still glistens on his forehead from his workout, and his expression shifts from curious to suspicious as he takes in the scene—the idling jet, the packed SUVs, Marcus and me looking like we’ve been caught planning a heist.

“What the fuck is going on?” Ben asks, dropping his bag and walking toward us. “I got your message to meet you here, but you didn’t say anything about a goddamn jet.”

I exchange a quick glance with Marcus.

“I’ll go check with the pilot,” Marcus says, tactfully extracting himself. “Make sure everything’s on schedule. Give you two a minute.”

He walks toward the hangar, leaving me to face my brother’s questioning stare. The resemblance between us has always been strong, but right now, with anger tightening his features, we look more alike than ever.

Ben stops in front of me, his eyes narrowing as he scans the tarmac.

“Seriously, Reign. What is this? Are you in trouble?”

“No trouble,” I tell him. “I’m getting married.”

Ben’s face transforms instantly, surprise replacing suspicion.

“Married? Holy shit, man. Congratulations.” He grins, clapping me on the shoulder. “To who? You haven’t even mentioned dating anyone.”

“Audrey Worthington.”

His smile freezes, then slowly fades as the name registers.

“Worthington? As in the woman engaged to Gio Vega?”

“She’s not engaged to him anymore.” I meet his gaze directly, not backing down from the disbelief I see there. “She broke it off this morning. We’re leaving tonight.”

“Leaving? Tonight?” Ben runs a hand through his hair, his expression cycling through shock, confusion, and something that looks dangerously like anger. “What the fuck, Reign? You’re running off with Vega’s fiancée without even telling me? Without any fucking warning?”

“I’m telling you now.”

“Now? With a fucking jet waiting?” He gestures wildly at the Gulfstream. “How long has this been going on? How long have you been planning this?”

I weigh my words carefully. “We met in San Diego three months ago. She was there alone. Things happened. We’ve been figuring it out since.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to put you in the middle,” I explain. “Vega’s your sponsor.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Ben’s voice rises sharply. “Fuck Vega. We’re brothers. If Audrey is your family, then she’s mine, too. You should have told me.”

The intensity of his response catches me off guard.

I’ve spent so long protecting Ben, making the hard decisions on my own, that I never considered he might actually want to be involved.

“You’re right,” I admit, the words feeling strange in my mouth. “I should have told you. I thought you might try to talk me out of it,” I admit. “Tell me I was throwing everything away for a woman.”

Ben snorts. “Since when do you listen to a damn thing I say? Besides—” His expression grows serious. “I saw you at the fight. Watched you watching her. Never seen you look at anyone like that before.”

I chuckle, a weight lifting from my chest. “Turning into a romantic in your old age, little brother?”

“Fuck off.” He glances toward the road. “So, where is she? I want to congratulate my future sister-in-law.”

The reminder sends a jolt of concern through me. I check my watch again. She should be here by now. Thirty minutes since her call, and the drive from the cabin should only take twenty.

“She should have been here already.” I try to keep the worry from my voice, but Ben picks up on it immediately.

“Traffic?” he suggests, but the tension in his shoulders tells me he’s already thinking like I am. Something’s wrong.

I pull out my phone, dialing the burner I gave Audrey. It rings once, twice, three times before going to voicemail. My stomach drops.

“No answer?” Ben asks, watching my face.

“No.” I redial immediately, listening to the same hollow ringing, ending in the same automated message. Audrey would answer. If she could, she would answer.

“Maybe she’s driving,” Ben offers. “Can’t pick up.”

“She knows to pull over if I call. Something’s wrong.”

I stride toward the edge of the tarmac, scanning the road leading to the airstrip. Empty. Nothing but the gathering darkness and distant lights of Cooper Heights glittering against the mountainside.

Where the fuck is she?

I dial again, putting the phone to my ear even as I know what I’ll hear. The same rings. The same voicemail. The same growing dread in my gut.

“We’ll find her,” Ben says firmly, gripping my shoulder. “If someone has her, we’ll get her back.”

I’m about to respond when the sound of running footsteps makes us both turn. Marcus sprints toward us from the direction of the hangar, face grim, phone in hand.

“We have a problem,” he calls, and the cold certainty in his voice confirms my worst fears before he even reaches us.

“Gio’s men have Audrey.” Marcus’s words hit me like a physical blow, then immediately transform into a white-hot rage that burns through my veins. “Rich Hunt just called. They intercepted her at a checkpoint on the mountain road.”

“How?” The single word comes out as a growl, my hands already curling into fists.

“Roadblock disguised as construction. Three black SUVs, six men minimum.” Marcus keeps his voice steady, professional, the way we’ve both learned to deliver bad news. “She didn’t have a chance to call. They took her phone, forced her into one of their vehicles.”

The image of Audrey surrounded by Vega’s thugs makes something primal rise in my chest. A killing fury I haven’t felt since my last deployment, since watching brothers in arms fall to enemy fire.

“Vega’s a dead man.” The words come out cold, certain. A statement of fact rather than a threat.

Marcus holds up his phone, showing a map with a pulsing red dot.

“Hunt’s working on tracking them now. He’s got a contact in Vega’s security team feeding him information.”

“Rich Hunt?” Ben asks, looking between us. “The cop from your old unit?”

“Former cop now,” Marcus corrects. “Works private security, but keeps his badges and connections. Still has eyes and ears in local law enforcement.”

I barely register their conversation, my mind already shifting into combat mode. Tactical assessment. Resource inventory. Extraction strategy. The familiar mental checklist I’ve run a thousand times for clients, but never with stakes this personal.

“How reliable is the intel?” I ask, eyes fixed on the pulsing dot on Marcus’s screen.

“Hunt’s never steered us wrong before.” Marcus zooms in on the map. “Signal’s coming from a lake house about twenty minutes north. Remote area, private access road, minimal neighbors.”

“Perfect place to hold someone without interruption.”

The implications make my jaw clench so hard my teeth ache. If Vega hurt her, if he so much as touched a single hair on her head...

“Hunt says they’ve got her contained but unharmed,” Marcus adds, reading the darkening of my expression. “For now, at least. Vega’s on his way there personally.”