Page 69 of Shadowed Sins: Nitro

The name confirmation cuts through the comms. Mira's sharp intake of breath—genuine, not performed.

"Looking forward to it."

We shake hands, his grip crushing while mine trembles.

Gideon walks me back through the container maze, my fingers trailing along each surface to memorize the route while keeping myself upright.

"You remind me of myself at your age," Gideon says quietly. "All the fire, all the righteousness. I used to believe in things too." He stops walking, staring at the containers. "You know, everyone has a price. Mine just happened to be higher than most."

"Your car's that way," Gideon points toward an exit between two containers. "You sure you can make it without falling over?"

"I can manage." I straighten up, trying to look steadier than I feel.

Gideon frowns as he watches me sway slightly. "You sure you can drive? You look ready to collapse."

"I'm fine." But even I don't believe it anymore.

"Maybe I should drive you—"

"I said I'm fine." I turn away before he can argue further, leaving him standing there looking concerned.

Through comms, Cole's voice is grim: "Team extraction point in five. Try not to collapse."

Twenty-five minutes of navigating this industrial maze, though my phone will claim it was five. Time warps when you're fighting not to puke. Each footstep ricochets off concrete, the sound mixing with distant forklifts and my own ragged breathing.

Somewhere behind me, Viktor and Gideon discuss logistics, human lives reduced to shipping schedules, but their voices fade under the roar of blood in my ears.

"Exit route clear." My voice through comms sounds like gravel in a blender. "Moving to extraction."

"Jesus, you sound wrecked," Cole mutters. "Saint, tell me you've got electrolytes ready."

"Already mixed," Remy confirms. "Though at this rate, we should just hook him to an IV."

Their words washes over me as I navigate by muscle memory more than sight. Left at the blue container. Right at the one with Chinese characters. Straight past the one that reeks of fish. Tommy would've remembered every turn perfectly, remembered each detail for later analysis.

"Almost there, sweet boy." Mira's whisper slides through my ear like warm silk. "You did so well. So perfect for me."

My cock pulses hard enough that I actually stumble, shoulder slamming into a container with a hollow boom. The impact rings through the industrial canyon, echoing off metal walls.

"Smooth," Asher observes dryly through comms.

"Fuck off, Frost." But there's no heat in it. Can't manage heat when every cell is focused on not collapsing.

I reach the extraction point—a black sedan parked between two containers. Mira's behind the wheel, engine already running. I climb into the passenger seat, and the moment the door closes, her scent washes over me.

Jasmine and something darker, need. The same perfume from last night but mixed with her arousal. My mouth waters.

"Come here." Her voice is more inviting that I can handle right now..

I lean across the center console and our mouths crash together. She tastes like desperation and coffee, her tongue sliding against mine with pent-up hunger.

"Can't breathe," I gasp against her lips. "Can't think. Remy made me choke down a protein shake this morning and it came right back up—"

"I know." Her hands shake as she yanks at my belt. "I threw up after breakfast. Cole heard me in the bathroom—"

My hand slides across her thigh, finding her jeans soaked through at the crotch. "Fuck, Mira. You're drenched."

"Since last night," she admits, then bites my lower lip hard. "When you said you'd bend me over the table in front of everyone."