Page 32 of Royal Bargain (Royals of the Underworld #3)
LIAM
I take the turn too fast, tires screeching as I barrel down the narrow side street toward the safehouse. Every second stretches like wire, tight and trembling. My heart’s in my throat, pounding hard enough I swear I can hear it over the engine.
Please be there. Please be there. Please be there.
The text is burned into my brain. You should’ve kept a better eye on your little girlfriend. She’s already gone.
I don’t know who sent it. I don’t know how they knew. All I know is if they touched her—if they laid a single finger on Ana or Lily—I will burn this entire goddamn city down.
I slam the car into park and leap out before the engine’s even stopped fully. Shane’s not outside. That’s the first bad sign. There’s no sign of movement through the front windows, no one coming to meet me. My gut clenches tighter.
I slam the car into park and leap out before the engine’s even stopped fully. Shane’s not outside. That’s the first bad sign. There’s no sign of movement through the front windows, no one coming to meet me. My gut clenches tighter.
I take the steps two at a time, punching in the code with fingers that barely feel like mine. The door swings open… and everything’s still.
Too still.
“Ana?” I call out, my voice echoing in the silence. “Ana, it’s me!”
Nothing.
I move fast, eyes sweeping the living room.
The couch is empty—one of Lily’s blankets bunched up on the armrest, a pacifier abandoned on the coffee table.
Still no sign of her. My chest tightens as I push open the bedroom door—and my heart nearly stops.
The bed’s unmade, the covers rumpled like someone sat on the edge recently.
The bathroom door’s cracked. I check it.
Empty.
But Lily?—
She’s here. Thank Christ. Fast asleep in her crib, her little chest rising and falling in soft, steady breaths.
Her fist curled near her cheek. Safe.
Ana isn’t.
Cold sweat breaks across the back of my neck.
I whip around, stalk back through the apartment, and rip the front door open. The hallway blurs around me. Two guards. Right where I left them.
Chatting. Relaxed. Oblivious.
“Where the fuck is she?” I snarl, storming toward them.
Both freeze. Eyes wide.
“Where’s Ana?” I snap, grabbing one by the front of his jacket and slamming him into the wall.
“She—she should be inside,” he stammers. “We didn’t see her leave. I swear?—”
“She’s not inside,” I growl. “So try again.”
His gaze flicks to the other guy, pleading for backup.
“I—I don’t know. Maybe she went out the back?”
My blood goes ice cold.
I yank my phone from my pocket and dial her number.
One ring.
Two.
Voicemail.
Straight to fucking voicemail.
I stare at the screen like it betrayed me. Her phone is off. Either she turned it off?—
Or someone turned it off for her. “Goddammit, Ana,” I mutter—and then I snap.
My fingers clench around the phone and I hurl it across the room.
It hits the wall with a loud crack and shatters, pieces scattering across the floor like broken glass.
The sudden sound jolts Lily awake.
She lets out a sharp wail, her tiny cry slicing through the tension like a knife. My heart lurches. “Shit—shit, baby, I’m sorry,” I murmur, already crossing the room and scooping her up.
She’s trembling, her face scrunched up and red, her little hands flailing.
“I’m sorry, Lily. I didn’t mean to scare you,” I whisper, holding her close. My breath shudders out of me. “I’m just—fuck, I’m just scared too.”
Scared doesn’t even begin to cover it.
I’m scared something’s happened to her.
Scared I missed the signs.
Scared I wasn’t enough to make her stay.
I rock Lily gently, pressing my cheek to the top of her head. She’s still sniffling, her tiny fingers curled against my chest, and it kills me—kills me—that she’s here crying because I lost control.
“I don’t know where she is,” I whisper into the silence. “I don’t know if she left because she wanted to or because someone made her. And I don’t know which of those terrifies me more.”
My voice breaks on the last word.
Because if Ana left on her own, what does that say about me? About us?
But if she didn’t… if someone took her?—
I don’t know if I’ll get to her in time.
And I don’t know what happens to either of us if I don’t.
I pace the floor with her in my arms, rocking gently, trying to soothe her. Her cries slow to hiccupping sobs against my shoulder as I whisper anything and everything to her—soft promises, desperate reassurances, words I wish Ana could hear too.
And then,
Buzz.
Buzz. Buzz.
I freeze.
The sound’s coming from the floor where my phone hit the wall.
I cross the room with Lily in one arm and crouch to pick up the pieces. The screen’s cracked but still lit, the haptic feedback vibrating against my palm.
I crouch to pick up the phone, balancing Lily in one arm, and swipe across the shattered screen. The cracks spiderweb through the glass, distorting the messages—but I can still make them out.
Blocked Number.
She asks too many questions.
Curiosity’s a dangerous thing, Liam.
Come find her—if you can.
My stomach drops.
My breath leaves me in a sharp exhale, and Lily squirms, sensing the tension radiating off me.
I clutch her to my chest, then force myself to move. I carry her back to the bedroom and lay her gently in the crib. She fusses, a soft whimper bubbling up, but I press a kiss to her forehead and whisper, “Daddy’s gotta go find Mama, sweetheart. I’ll be back.”
I’m already halfway down the hallway when I shout, “One of you—get in here!”
The guards stumble in from the hallway, startled.
“Watch her,” I bark, motioning to Lily. “Don’t leave that room. I don’t care if the building’s on fire—you don’t leave her. You understand me?”
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’m gonna 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.
The sky outside is darkening, shadows long across the pavement, and I feel like I'm racing a damn clock I can't see.
Halfway there, my phone rings.
Rory.
I put it on speaker. “Tell me you found her.”
“We didn’t,” he says grimly.
“Fuck,” I mutter, jaw clenched. “I think she went to Miranda.”
“Well, pray to God you’re right and she’s still there,” Rory says. “Because if she’s not—if we can’t find her in time—you’d better be prepared for the fallout.”
My hands tighten around the steering wheel.
“What fallout?” I ask, but I already know.
“If the Russians get to her first—this turns into war.”
I’m about to hang up on Rory when another buzz vibrates against the console.
Blocked number.
Another message.
I open it—and my whole body goes cold.
A photo.
Ana.
She’s looking over her shoulder, eyes wide, mouth parted like she was about to shout. Her hair’s down—no disguise. No attempt to hide. She’s wearing the same soft sweater she had on this morning, the one Lily drooled on before her nap.
She looks terrified.
But behind her—blurred in the background—is a familiar structure. A rusted railing. Faded industrial signage. The cracked curve of a dockyard floodlight.
My pulse stutters.
The old shipyard.
I toss the phone onto the seat and hit the gas.
“She’s at the shipyard,” I growl into the speaker. “The old one—pier 14. I know that spot. I know it.”
“You sure?” Rory says, voice sharp.
“I don’t guess about this kind of thing.”
“Alright. I’ll send backup.”
“Don’t bother,” I snap. “I’m not waiting.”
I take the next turn fast enough to rattle my teeth, tires squealing as I rocket toward the waterfront.
They want me to come. They sent that picture like bait, thinking I’d panic.
But I’m not panicking. I’m coming for blood.
The city blurs past me in streaks of gray and shadow, every light flashing too bright, every second dragging like an eternity. The closer I get to the waterfront, the worse the knot in my stomach twists.
I’m terrified.
Terrified that something’s happened to her.
Terrified that I won’t get there in time.
But I’m angry too—so goddamn angry I can barely breathe. What the hell was she thinking? Why would she leave like that? Why would she leave Lily?
“Fuck,” I curse, slamming my fist against the wheel.
Did she think I wouldn’t protect them? That I wouldn’t die before I let anyone touch them?
Or was she forced to go?
That thought chills me deeper than the wind off the water. Because if someone made her leave—if they threatened her or cornered her or laid a hand on her?—
I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop myself when I find them, so I grip the wheel tighter, heart pounding, mind racing.
Please be okay.
That’s all I can think. Over and over.
Please be okay. Please be okay.
Because if I’m too late… If I lose her… well, God help whoever is responsible for this.
I don’t know what I’ll do if I’m too late. And the worst part?
A small, quiet voice in the back of my mind is whispering that I already am.