Page 37 of Royal Bargain (Royals of the Underworld #3)

ANNIKA

I blink awake, the world completely dark outside. I stretch, arm reaching instinctively across the bed—only to find cold sheets.

My stomach twists.

Liam’s not here.

I sit up quickly, brushing hair from my face. Lily stirs in her bassinet beside the bed, her little legs kicking beneath her blanket.

I grab my phone from the nightstand.

Liam: Burns needs me at HQ—urgent. Shouldn’t be long. Stay inside. I’ll call soon.

Just then, I hear our daughter fussing from the other room and I smile, standing up to go get her.

Lily’s soft breath tickles the skin beneath my collarbone. Her lashes flutter in sleep, one tiny hand curled around the neckline of my shirt like she’s afraid I’ll vanish if she lets go. I cradle her close, my body curled protectively around hers on the couch, and let the silence wash over me.

For the first time in what feels like forever, it’s quiet—not the tense, loaded kind, but the good kind. The kind you feel deep in your chest. Safe. Whole.

A laugh bubbles out of me before I can stop it. I’m so used to things falling apart, I don’t know what to do with the idea that they might actually come together. That maybe—maybe—Liam and I could really make this work.

I press my lips to Lily’s hair. “Your daddy drives me crazy,” I murmur, smiling against her curls. “But I think… I think he might be worth it.”

The floor creaks faintly, and I glance toward the hallway.

Probably just Shane checking the perimeter again.

He’s overly cautious, but I’m grateful for it.

He and Connor have been on rotation since yesterday—two seasoned guards, Irish through and through, both of them loyal to Liam.

I’d rolled my eyes when Liam insisted on that level of protection.

Now, I’m not so sure he was overreacting.

A muffled bang from outside jerks me upright.

Then another.

This time, sharper.

Gunfire.

I freeze. My breath catches. Lily stirs in my arms, whining softly.

Then I hear shouting—harsh, angry Russian. I recognize the cadence, even if I don’t understand the words.

“No,” I whisper, holding Lily tighter. “No, no, no.”

I hurry to the door, just enough to peer through the crack.

Chaos.

Connor is already down, sprawled motionless on the floor. Shane is still fighting—his arm bloodied, a knife in one hand, swinging wild and furious as two men converge on him. One catches him in the ribs. He stumbles. The knife clatters from his fingers.

I let out a tiny, strangled sound.

One of them turns toward me.

“Shit.” I slam the door shut and bolt it behind me, heart hammering. I’m out of time.

I rush across the bedroom, Lily wailing now in my arms, her cries sharp with fear.

“Shh, baby, it’s okay,” I whisper, voice shaking. “It’s okay—it’s gonna be okay.”

I throw open the closet door and duck inside, pressing us back into the corner behind old coats and boxes. My hand fumbles for the inside knob, gently pulling the door shut until only a sliver of light remains.

Outside, I hear the door crash open.

Footsteps.

Voices.

A body hitting the floor.

I cover Lily’s head with my hand and crouch low, curling around her, rocking back and forth like I can calm us both. Her sobs echo through my chest, mingling with the frantic thud of my heartbeat.

They’re here. They’re inside the safehouse.

I hold her tighter, praying we won’t be found.

Praying Shane is still alive.

Praying Liam is close enough to save us.

I can’t stop shaking.

I rock Lily gently, whispering over and over, “You’re okay. You’re okay. You’re okay.”

But even I don’t believe it anymore.

Outside the closet, the sounds of the struggle have dulled—no more shouting, no more gunfire. Just silence. That terrifying kind of silence that says someone won.

I hold my breath, willing myself to disappear, to sink through the floor and take Lily with me.

Then I hear footsteps. Deliberate. Measured. Getting closer.

I press Lily’s face against my chest and squeeze my eyes shut.

A shadow stretches across the narrow sliver of light under the door.

They stop right in front of us.

Please, I beg silently. Please just keep walking.

The doorknob creaks. I don’t even dare to breathe.

The door is yanked open. Light floods the tiny space. I blink up in horror.

Standing over me, dressed in black, blood spattered across his sleeve, is the last man I ever wanted to see.

Dariy .

His cold, dead eyes meet mine.

And then he smiles.

“Found you,” he says softly, like this is some twisted game of hide and seek.

I open my mouth to scream, but he’s faster. He grabs me by the arm and yanks me upright, tearing me from the pile of coats. Lily wails in my grasp, her cries shrill with terror.

“Let go of me—don’t touch her?—”

Dariy leans in, his face far too calm for the chaos he’s unleashed. His voice is low and precise.

“You have two choices, Annika.” He brushes a piece of hair from my cheek with mock gentleness. “Come with us quietly, and we leave the baby with your little guards. We’ll walk out, and she stays unharmed. Or…”

His hand closes around my upper arm like a vice.

“… we take both of you. And I kill them all while your daughter watches.”

My throat closes. My heart slams so hard I’m afraid it might stop entirely. I look down at Lily—her red face, her tiny fists curled around my shirt. She doesn’t understand what’s happening. Not yet.

But she will.

Unless I stop this.

My breath shudders in and out as I stare at Dariy, trying to think. Trying to breathe.

There’s no way out of this.

No guards left standing. No escape plan. No Liam.

Just me, Lily, and the man who’s always been lurking in the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

For all my running… Papa was never the real threat.

It was always him.

Dariy’s hand tightens around my arm. “Well?”

I look down at Lily. She’s still crying, squirming in my arms, red-faced and panicked. Every sound she makes is like a knife in my spine.

She doesn’t deserve this. She never asked to be born into a world like this.

And if I scream, if I run, if I try to fight…

He’ll take her too.

He’ll kill for the inconvenience.

I meet his eyes, hatred and horror boiling in my chest. “I’ll go,” I whisper. “Just… don’t hurt her.”

His expression doesn’t change. But his silence says enough.

“I just—” I swallow hard. “Let me calm her down. Change her diaper, settle her. Please. Let me say goodbye.”

He narrows his eyes, as if weighing the request like it’s a trick.

“She’s just going to keep screaming,” mutters one of the other men behind him, annoyed. “It’s going to draw attention. Let her deal with it.”

Dariy huffs a short breath—almost amused—and finally, finally lets go of my arm.

“You have two minutes.”

I stagger backward, clutching Lily to my chest, my hands trembling as I carry her to the changing table. My mind races.

There’s no way to warn anyone. No way to call Liam. No miracle coming.

All I can do now is give Lily peace.

I move quickly, fingers fumbling with the snaps on her onesie. She quiets just a little, hiccupping as I lay her on the changing mat on the bed. I bend over, kissing her little soft spot.

“I love you,” I whisper into her hair, so feather-light it barely exists. “So, so much. You’re going to be okay. You have to be okay.”

But how?

If Liam comes back and finds us gone—how will he know where to look? How will he find me?

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 is silent 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.

The car slows.

I lift my head, heart hammering in my throat as we turn down a narrow gravel road lined with rusted fencing. The headlights sweep over a weather-beaten sign, half-faded by time and rain.

Harborview Canning Co.

Closed. Condemned. Forgotten.

But not empty.

My breath catches.

I was right.

Relief floods through me, sharp and fleeting. If Liam finds the clue… he’ll know. He’ll come.

The car rumbles to a stop in the overgrown lot. Weeds crackle beneath the tires. One of the men climbs out and yanks the door open, nodding for me to move.

I step out slowly, legs shaky but determined. The factory looms ahead—dark, massive, hollow-eyed.

Dariy walks ahead without a word.

I follow.

The door groans as it swings open. Cold air spills out, heavy with the scent of rust and mildew. My stomach churns as we pass through the entryway, boots echoing against cracked tile.

And then I see him.

Standing beneath a broken skylight, half-cast in moonlight like some ghost from another life?—

My breath lodges in my throat.

“Papa?”

His face gives nothing away, but his presence says it all.

This isn’t just revenge.

It’s a reckoning.