Page 33 of Royal Affair

But he'd made a mistake—he'd gotten too caught up in his monologue, moved too far away. The zip ties weren't as tight as they should have been, and I'd been working on them the entire time he talked. With one final, painful twist, my hands came free.

I didn't think. I acted.

Adrenaline surged through me, overriding the burning pain in my shoulders and arms. Launching myself forward, I tackled him at the knees. He cursed, stumbling backward, the voice modulator falling from his throat. In the chaos, I ripped the gag from my mouth and scrambled toward the stairs. My bare feet slipped on the metal steps, but desperation propelled me forward despite my body's protests.

"You won't escape what's coming, Princess!" he called after me, his voice now unmodulated and natural. It was familiar, but I couldn't place it in my panic.

I burst through the door at the bottom of the stairs into what looked like an abandoned office space. Sunlight streamed through dirty windows, illuminating dust motes and empty desks. The exit sign glowed red in the distance.

My heart pounded in my ears as I ran, ignoring the pain in my feet from the rough floor. Almost there. Almost?—

I slammed through the exit door into bright daylight and straight into a solid wall of muscle. Familiar hands gripped my shoulders, steadying me.

"James," I gasped, relief flooding through me.

Then the terror crashed back - he was here, he'd found me, but what if my captor had already sent information about my past? What if James already knew? "He's right behind me, we have to?—"

His eyes narrowed, scanning me for injuries. "Are you hurt?" he demanded, already pulling me behind him protectively, his body coiled and ready for a fight.

"No, I—" My voice broke, torn between relief at being rescued and fear of what James might discover. "He knows things, James. About my past. And my friends—are Octavia and Gabriela safe?"

"They're fine. Anton got them home safely," he said quickly.

"Now stay behind me."

Before James could say more, the door burst open again. My captor appeared, still wearing his bone-white mask, the voice modulator back in place.

"Mr. Banks," he said, his voice once again distorted by the device. "I see you've found our princess."

James positioned himself more fully in front of me. "Drop the weapon," he commanded, his voice deadly calm.

My captor laughed, raising a gun I hadn't seen him retrieve. "I don't think I will. I've come too far to walk away empty-handed."

I couldn't see James's face, but I felt the tension radiating from him. "You're surrounded," he said. "My team has the building locked down."

I heard car doors slamming and shouted commands in the distance as if on cue.

"Perhaps," my captor conceded.

"But this isn't over, princess."

He levelled his gaze at me.

"The truth always comes out. One way or another."

Then several things happened at once. James lunged forward. My captor raised his gun. A shot rang out—but not from my captor's weapon. He stumbled, clutching his shoulder, as Anton Keller emerged from around the corner, his gun trained steadily on the masked man.

"Drop it!," Anton ordered. "The next one won't be so forgiving!."

My captor hesitated, then let his weapon clatter to the ground. James was on him instantly, driving him to the pavement and restraining him whilst Anton kept his gun trained on them both.

"Got him," James growled into his comm device. "South exit. We need medical and transport."

James secured my captor and then pulled the mask from his face. I expected to recognise him, but the man was a stranger to me—early forties, with cold eyes and a scar across his jaw.

"Who are you!" I demanded, my voice shaking. "How do you know about—about what happened?"

The man smiled, blood seeping from his shoulder. "I'm just the messenger, princess. Nikolai Voss, at your service. Ask your mother about Viktor Kozlov—he's the one who hired me. See what she tells you about your old friend Viktor."