Page 6

The Mercedes AMG roared down dock row as I scanned every warehouse, every corner, and every shadow. Three hours of searching and nothing. No sign of the black SUV. No whispers from street contacts. Nothing but the growing rage building inside me.

“Warehouse thirty-nine clear.” Cruz’s voice crackled through my earpiece. “Moving to forty.”

“Copy.” I cut the bike’s engine outside warehouse thirty-seven, killing the lights. “Storm, what do you have?”

“Traffic cams lost them after Collins,” Storm replied. “But I’m running background on every dock worker with access to these buildings. Cross-referencing with Jeremy McAllister’s known associates.”

I slipped off the bike, checking my weapon. The familiar weight of the Glock against my palm did nothing to calm the storm in my gut. Every minute that passed was another minute they had her.

The memory of her on the security footage hit me again – how she’d fought back and landed that punch. Pride and rage warred in my chest. Santari was no victim, but that wouldn’t stop me from killing every motherfucker who was responsible for her distress.

Movement caught my eye. A dock worker stumbled drunk between containers. His security badge marked him as senior staff, which meant he had access to all areas.

I blended into the shadows, letting him pass before stepping out behind him. One hand over his mouth, the other around his throat, and I dragged him into the dark.

“Listen carefully.” I kept my voice low, deadly. “Nod, if you understand.”

He nodded frantically.

“Black SUV. Dealer plates. Three men in suits. Came through here a few hours ago. Where?”

I loosened my grip enough for him to speak. “I-I don’t?—”

My hand tightened. “Wrong answer.”

“Wait! Wait!” He clawed at my arm. “There was something about warehouse forty-nine. It wasn’t supposed to be occupied, but lights were on earlier.”

“Who has access?”

“A new company. It was leased last week. I just process paperwork.”

“Give me a name.”

“Phoenix Holdings or... something. Please...”

I released him, letting him drop to his knees. “If you’re lying, the next time you see me, will be the last time you see anything.”

“I’m not! I swear!” He scrambled back. “Just don’t kill me, man.”

“Cruz.” I tapped my earpiece, watching the dock worker run off. “Warehouse forty-nine. Phoenix Holdings.”

“I’m on it.” Keys clicked in the background as Storm worked. “It’s a shell company that was registered last week. But the payment was traced to an account I recognize. It’s?—”

Static burst through the line.

“Storm?”

Nothing.

“Cruz?”

Silence.

I drew my gun, scanning the shadows. Someone was jamming our comms. Which meant someone knew we were here.

The first bullet crackled past my head before I registered the sound. I dove behind a container, counting the shots. There were three shooters.

They weren’t the same ones from the university. These moved with silence and intention.

I returned fire, catching one in the shoulder. He dropped with a grunt that told me he was wearing body armor—most likely high-end gear.

More bullets pinged off metal nearby. They were trying to box me in. It was a good move, but they didn’t know these docks like I did.

I slipped between containers, using the maze-like layout to my advantage. One shooter followed, that was a mistake on his part. I caught him around the corner and drove my elbow into his throat – he gasped, it was the last sound he would ever make.

His partner got two shots off before my bullet tunneled through his eye. It was a clean kill—professional courtesy of The Paradox.

The third had better sense. He fell back to cover, which was smart but not clever enough.

I circled wide, using the shadows to my advantage. His breath gave him away—it was too fast and shallow, a tell-tale sign of his location.

“It’s nothing personal,” he called. “Just business.”

I stepped out behind him and pressed my gun to his head. “Everything about her is personal.”

He froze. “You don’t understand.”

“No.” I grabbed his collar and slammed him against a steel column. “You don’t understand. Every breath you take without telling me where she is, is a breath I let you have.”

“I can’t do that.”

I broke his finger. The scream echoed off the shipping containers.

“Where is she?”

“They’ll kill me!”

Another finger snapped.

“They’ll kill me slow,” he gasped.

I leaned close and let him see the devil in my eyes. “Do you really think they’re your biggest problem?”

The sound of a gun being racked behind me caught my attention. I spun, using my captive as a shield. Cruz stood there with his weapon trained on a shadow I hadn’t seen.

“We got a runner,” he said.

“Take him.”

Cruz’s target bolted. It was his choice, not that it would get him anywhere. The shot caught him in the leg and sent him collapsing to the ground.

I turned my prey around to face me. He’d used the distraction to draw a knife.

He was on the edge and doing whatever he thought would give him an advantage, which was understandable but nonsensical.

I grabbed his wrist and twisted until the bones ground together.

The blade clattered to the ground as he sank to his knees.

“This is your last chance.”

He spat blood. “Fuck you.”

I slammed his head against the container. Once. Twice. On the third hit, he went limp.

“Damn.” Cruz dragged his man over. “You getting sloppy in your old age? It usually only takes you one hit.”

“Old age?” I raised a brow at him.

“Is that all you heard?”

“I needed him conscious, but he’s weak.” I zip-tied the unconscious man’s hands. “You good?”

“I lost three of mine, but...” He gestured to his bleeding target. “I’ve got a live one.”

I knelt by the wounded man. He was young, wearing an expensive suit. His fresh face gave me the impression that this was his first field assignment.

“Please...” He clutched his leg. “I don’t know anything...”

“That’s not the right answer.” I pressed my thumb into the bullet wound. His scream was music to my ears. “Let’s try again.”

“I just... follow orders...”

“From who?”

“I can’t... they’ll...”

“They are not here.” I dug deeper. “I am.” I motioned toward Cruz. “He is. And we’re you and your boss’s biggest problem.”

Cruz’s phone buzzed. He checked it and cursed. Storm’s voice came through my earpiece.

“I’m back online,” he said. “Someone tried to breach our security system. I traced it to warehouse forty-nine.”

“Cruz, did you check warehouse forty-nine?” I asked.

“No. I was enroute when these niggas got my attention.”

I took my attention to the man whose collar I had clutched in my fist.

“It seems your friends wanted our attention.” I stood, wiping blood on my jacket. “Cruz, get them somewhere quiet and make them comfortable.”

“My pleasure.” He grabbed the runner’s collar. “I’ve got just the place in mind. But where are you going?”

Images of Santari filled my mind – in the pool, in my bed, moaning when my mouth was between her thighs.

“Titan, I know you hear me talking to you, nigga,” Cruz barked.

I strolled quickly to my motorcycle and kicked the bike to life.

“Titan!”

This was too easy. The shell company, the location, and the attack were all designed to draw us here. I revved my bike and drove off with Cruz’s profanity flying against the wind at my back.

“Storm.” The comms crackled. “Do you copy?”

“I’m here.” His voice was tight. “Whoever breached us used military-grade software.”

“Can you trace it?”

“I’m working on it. But Titan... there’s something else. That account I recognized… It’s?—”

Static again.

“Storm?”

Nothing.

I rode the machine with my focus on Santari. When I got a block from warehouse forty-nine, I parked in the shadows and killed the engine. The warehouse loomed ahead like a haunted industrial complex - dark and quiet. Too quiet.

My phone buzzed. It was an unknown number. The text contained a single image.

Santari was tied to a chair and there was blood on her lip. But her eyes... they burned with an energy that matched my own. She was different, and the intensity of her stare ignited the fire inside me.

Someone had put their hands on her, which was my biggest fear come to life. I would make their families pay for it for generations to come, as long as there was breath in my body.

A second text came through:

Warehouse forty-nine. Come alone. She dies if you don't.

The timing of the message led me to assume they thought they had time before I arrived. But I was in their backyard and would show them why men feared The Paradox.

I checked my weapons, touched the lighter in my pocket, and retrieved a special gift I had for them from my seat’s storage. Fire always made everything better.

And I had an idea that made my dick hard.