Page 42 of Shadowed Sins: Nitro

"We're talking about controlling the variables," Cole counters. "Right now she's a wild card. At the safehouse, she's contained."

My phone buzzes.

Her:Three minutes. Don't make me wait.

"I have to go," I say, already moving toward the door.

"Tell her about the safehouse," Cole orders. "Operational necessity. Intel sharing. Whatever works."

"And if she says no?"

"Then we reassess." Cole's jaw tightens. "But Jax? One way or another, we need her where we can protect you both. Before whoever's hunting her decides to go through us to get to her."

I nod, already out the door, already running toward the parking garage.

ten

Mira

My heels click against concrete as I stride toward my car. Three levels down in this parking garage, but I'll make it. He's late. Six minutes late. I don't wait for anyone.

His footsteps echo behind me—running shoes slapping against damp concrete. "Mira, wait—"

I don't stop. "Six minutes late. I don't wait."

"Please."

That word. Always that fucking word. I stop walking but don't turn around. The garage air tastes like exhaust and old oil.

He catches up, breathing hard. Not from the run—from need. When I finally turn to face him, his blue-green eyes burn with barely controlled desperation. The bulge in his pants strains against the denim like it's trying to escape. His hands twitch at his sides, fingers curling and uncurling.

"The team wants you at the safehouse. For operational security."

"I don't need protection."

"It's not protection. It's intel coordination."

"We'll see." I study his face. Sweat beads at his temple despite the cool garage air. A ventilation fan hums somewhere above us, mixing with the distant sound of traffic. "You can't just walk away from what happened in there."

"I can do whatever I want."

His voice cracks. "You're mine now."

The words come out broken, desperate. Like he's drowning and these words are his only lifeline. His keys spin around his finger—four rotations, catch, repeat. Faster than normal. The metal clicks against his rings.

"What?"

"You said I was yours, so that means—" He's rambling now, that flustered energy spilling everywhere, words tumbling over each other. "That means you're mine too. Right? That's how it works? Equal exchange?"

The desperation in his twisted logic makes heat pool between my legs. My nipples tighten against the silk of my dress.

"That's not how anything works."

"It is now."

I turn to leave. Really leave this time. My heels click against concrete as I head for my car, each step echoing in the empty space.

"Mira, please—"