Page 46

TWENTY-FIVE

REIGN

The lake water laps 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.”

“On my mark,” I respond, voice barely above a whisper. “Three, two, one...mark.”

A series of small explosions erupts from the far side of the property. Flash-bangs and smoke grenades creating the illusion of a major assault. The guards at the main entrance immediately respond, drawing their weapons and moving toward the disturbance. Predictable. Amateurs.

I use the diversion to approach the house from the east side, where a trellis covered in ivy provides access to the second floor. The climb is easy, my body moving with purpose and precision. Each handhold brings me closer to Audrey. Each second that passes feeds the rage burning in my gut.

The second-floor window is locked, but the security system is basic. Thirty seconds with my knife, and I’m through, sliding the window open and slipping inside. I find myself in a guest bedroom. The room is unoccupied, pristine, and smells faintly of lemon polish and expensive cologne.

I move to the door, pressing my ear against it before easing it open. The hallway beyond is dimly lit, lined with closed doors. I check each one methodically, clearing rooms with the efficiency drilled into me during years of combat operations. Empty bedroom. Empty bathroom. Locked office.

The fourth door is different. It’s reinforced, with a deadbolt that can only be locked from the outside. My pulse quickens. This is it. This is where they’re keeping her.

I press my ear to the wood, straining to hear any sound from within. Nothing. I’m about to try the lock when gunfire erupts outside, sharp cracks that cut through the night. Marcus engaging the guards who’ve realized the diversion is just that.

No more time for subtlety. I step back and kick the door just beside the lock, the wood splintering under the force. The door flies open, and I move in low, weapon drawn, ready for anything.

Except what I find.

Audrey stands in the center of the room, a silver letter opener clutched in her hand like a dagger, her body in a fighting stance. Her eyes widen when she sees me, recognition and relief washing over her face.

“Reign,” she whispers, the letter opener dropping from her fingers.

I holster my weapon and cross the room in four strides, pulling her against me with enough force to knock the breath from both of us.

Her arms wrap around my neck, her body trembling against mine.

I bury my face in her hair, breathing in her scent, reassuring myself that she’s real. She’s here. She’s safe.

“Did he hurt you?” I pull back just enough to scan her face, my hands cupping her cheeks. “Tell me what he did.”

“I’m okay.” Her fingers dig into my shoulders like she’s afraid I’ll disappear. “He drugged me, brought me here. Tried to convince me I was confused about breaking the engagement.”

The mention of the engagement sends fresh rage coursing through me. I run my hands down her arms, checking for injuries, needing to touch her, to confirm she’s unharmed.

“We need to go,” I say, already turning toward the door. “Marcus and Ben are outside. We’ve got a boat waiting.”

“Ben?” Her eyebrows rise in surprise. “Your brother is here?”

“Family helps family.” I take her hand, leading her toward the hallway. “And you’re family now.”

We make it two steps into the hall before a voice stops us cold.

“How touching.”

Gio Vega stands at the end of the corridor, a pistol aimed directly at my chest. His tailored suit is rumpled, his normally-perfect hair disheveled. A white bandage wraps around one hand, spotted with blood. His eyes are cold, calculating, fixed on where my fingers intertwine with Audrey’s.

“Let her go,” I say, pushing Audrey slightly behind me. “This is between you and me.”

“On the contrary.” Vega’s accent thickens with anger. “This is about property. My property.”

I feel Audrey stiffen behind me. My hand tightens around hers.

My voice drops to a dangerous register. “She doesn’t belong to you.”

“No?” Vega takes a step forward, the gun never wavering. “I have contracts that say otherwise. Agreements with her stepmother. Millions invested in her family’s company.” His eyes shift to Audrey. “Tell him, cara . Tell him about our arrangement.”

“There is no arrangement anymore,” Audrey says, her voice stronger than I expected. “I ended it. I gave back your ring.”

Vega laughs, the sound devoid of humor. “You think it’s that simple? That you can just walk away from me? From everything I’ve built?”

“Yes,” I say, calculating the distance between us, looking for an opening. “That’s exactly what’s happening.”

His eyes narrow, focusing on me with new intensity. “You. The security contractor. I should have known when Ben brought you to the poker game. The way you reacted when I mentioned moving up the wedding date.”

The memory of that night, sitting across from Vega, watching him gloat about claiming Audrey, makes my blood boil. I take a step forward, putting more of my body between him and Audrey.

“Put the gun down,” I say, my voice steady despite the rage coursing through me. “You’re outnumbered. My team has neutralized your security. It’s over.”

“Over?” Vega’s smile is cold, predatory. “I don’t think so. Not while I have this.”

He raises the gun, aiming it directly at Audrey now. “Come here, cara . Now.”

“Don’t move,” I tell her, my body tensing for what comes next.

“If she doesn’t come to me in the next five seconds, I’ll put a bullet in your head,” Vega says, his finger tightening on the trigger. “Then, I’ll take her anyway. Your choice.”

I feel Audrey’s hand squeeze mine, a silent communication. Before I can stop her, she steps out from behind me.

“It’s okay,” she says, her eyes never leaving mine. “I’ll go with him.”

“Audrey—”

“Smart girl,” Vega interrupts, gesturing with the gun. “Come here. Slowly.”

She moves toward him, each step deliberate. I watch her, trying to communicate with my eyes what I can’t say aloud. Wait for my move. Trust me.

“That’s it,” Vega says as she approaches. “Now tell your lover goodbye. You won’t be seeing him again.”

Audrey stops just out of Vega’s reach, her back straight, chin lifted.

“You’re wrong,” she says, her voice clear and steady. “He’s coming with me.”

In the split second that Vega’s attention shifts to her face, I lunge forward. Audrey drops to the floor as I tackle Vega, the gun discharging with a deafening crack. Pain explodes in my shoulder, but adrenaline pushes it aside as we crash into the wall.