Page 106 of Royal Bargain

They nod, wide-eyed.

I don’t wait for anything else. My pulse is racing. My head is spinning. But I’ve got one thought and one thought only?—

I need to find Annika.

And whoever thinks they can use her to get to me?

They just made the biggest mistake of their life.

I’m already in the elevator when I pull up Rory’s number. My fingers are trembling, slick with sweat, but I hit call and hold the phone to my ear.

He answers on the second ring. “Liam?”

“She’s gone,” I say, skipping any kind of preamble. My voice is low and tight. “I got home and she wasn’t here. Her phone’s off. And I just got a string of texts from a blocked number.”

There’s a pause. “What kind of texts?”

“They said she asks too many questions. Told me to come find her—if I can.”

I can hear Rory’s sharp inhale, the tension crackling on his end of the line. “Jesus Christ.”

“I’m going after her,” I say, stepping out of the elevator and striding toward my car. “I don’t know where she went, but I’mgonna retrace every damn step. Someone’s playing games and I’m done letting them pull the strings.”

“You need to find her before the Russians do,” Rory says, voice suddenly cold and clipped, pure steel. “If Dariy gets to her first, she won’t just disappear. She’ll be a message.”

Liam swallows hard. “I know.”

“I’ll have Lucky monitor the security feeds, see if we can get anything off traffic cams. You call me the second you find something. Don’t fuck around, Liam. If they took her?—”

“They didn’t,” I snap. “They didn’t take her. She left. She snuck out.”

Rory’s quiet for a beat. Then he says, calmly, “That doesn’t mean she wasn’t followed.”

My jaw tightens. “I know.”

“Then go get her.”

I hang up without another word.

I drive aimlessly at first, chewing on the inside of my cheek until I taste blood. My mind is going a hundred miles an hour, flipping through every possible scenario, every conversation we’ve had, every place she’s mentioned.

Where would she go?

Who would she trust?

Not her father. Not her sisters.

Not me.

I slam my palm against the steering wheel, fury and helplessness boiling over.

And then it hits me—like a punch to the chest.

Miranda.

She went to Miranda before. For help. For opportunity. For a way out. If she’s trying to make a move, trying to keep her power and her pride, that’s exactly where she’d go.

I cut across two lanes and take the next turn sharp, tires squealing as I speed toward Miranda Voss’s office.