Page 129 of Royal Bargain

I blink through the tears burning my eyes, my gaze flicking toward the diaper bag.Think, Annika. Think. They’ll probably take me somewhere close. Somewhere they control. They wouldn’t risk moving me too far—not yet.

There’s only one place that makes sense.

I take a shaky breath and ease Lily onto the changing pad, unfastening her diaper with trembling hands. She wriggles a little, her tiny legs kicking softly, like she doesn’t know anything is wrong. And maybe that’s the only grace I have left.

My heart pounds as I grab a spare wipe and reach for the edge of the changing table. There’s a loose flap on the lining of the bag—a tiny pocket no one ever notices, not unless they’re looking.

I move carefully, shielding my actions with my body as I tear off a small piece of tissue, scribbling fast with the pen I keep clipped inside the diaper bag.

I fold the note tight and tuck it in my hand. I’ll need to put it somewhere that no one will suspect, somewhere that Liam will find it, but no one else will.

I fasten Lily’s diaper, button her onesie, and wrap her tight in the soft pink blanket she loves. My hands linger for a second too long, smoothing her down. Memorizing her.

Settling her in her crib, I rest my hand on her forehead, stroking it gently.

Then I stand.

Dariy watches me from the doorway, cold and silent.

“I’m ready,” I say again, my voice steadier this time.

He nods.

“Take her,” he says, jerking his chin toward one of his men.

I hesitate, then a guard steps forward and grabs me, putting my arms behind my back. As we leave, I glance down to see Shane. A moment of fear prickles me, terrified that he’s already dead but I see him shift, just slightly. He’s not dead, just badly injured.

I meet his eyes, and pray that he’ll wake up as soon as I’m gone and call Liam.

Then I let Dariy’s men take me.

The car issilent as we drive.

I sit stiffly between two of Dariy’s men in the back seat, my wrists aching from the zip tie cutting into my skin. One of them reeks of cigarettes and stale sweat. The other hasn't stopped cracking his knuckles. My body hums with tension, but I force myself to sit still, to breathe slow.

Out the window, the city crawls by—familiar streets blurred by darkness and fear.

They didn’t blindfold me. That alone tells me how confident they are I won’t be walking free again.

Dariy sits up front, relaxed like he’s out for a midnight stroll. One hand on the wheel, the other tapping idly against the steering column.

He hasn’t spoken since we left.

He doesn’t need to.

This is his message.

I turn my face toward the glass, watching the lights streak past, and try not to think about Lily. About how quiet she was when I left. How I didn’t get to hold her just a little longer.

I try to focus on anything else—but all I can see is Dariy. My father’s right hand man. His cousin. My family.

His smirk in the closet. His cold, deliberate voice. The way he looked at Lily like she was nothing more than a bargaining chip.

He won’t stop until I’m broken. He’s not just doing this for Anatoly. He’s doing it for himself. For the insult I caused just by leaving. For the humiliation of being outplayed. For the fact that Liam got to me first.

And now?

He’s going to take his time.