Page 24

Isabel

A restless energy thrums in my veins as I follow Vera through the shifting crowd, the bass from the speakers pulsing under my feet. I catch a fleeting glance of Lincoln across the room. He’s watching me go, brow furrowed with concern. But I give him a small nod, hoping to reassure him that I’ll be right back. The plan is simple: a quick trip to the restroom, fix my hair, gather my composure, and return to the mission at hand. We need to stay close to Vera and Trey if we want a chance at learning where Morris is hiding tonight.

Vera giggles as we step into a plush corridor lit by soft sconces. The hush of the party falls away behind us. She links her arm through mine, guiding me toward an unmarked door. Once inside, I find a restroom as opulent as the rest of the club, complete with marble sinks, gilded mirrors, and a faint perfumed scent. A couple of women stand at the far mirror, reapplying lipstick, but they’re quick to finish and breeze out, leaving us alone in the quiet space.

“We’re all set,” Vera says, turning to me with a grin. “Just a little freshening up, right?”

“Yeah.” My throat is dry, my thoughts still whirling from the heated moment between Lincoln and me. I was happy to head away when Vera mentioned freshening up in the restroom. I needed a moment to compose myself, because sure as I ever was… I love him.

Vera rummages through a tiny gold clutch, extracting a compact mirror and a tube of lipstick the color of fresh blood. She hums softly, touches up her lips, then glances at me. “You’re definitely the adventurous type, aren’t you?”

I force a light laugh. “I guess so.” My fingers tremble a little as I smooth the edges of my eyeliner. There’s a tang of adrenaline still lingering on my tongue. Something about being in this quiet space with Vera suddenly makes me feel exposed, and I’m not sure why.

She sidles closer, her tone still playful. “You and Lincoln have quite the chemistry. I can see why you two like to… indulge.”

I meet her gaze in the mirror, trying to project confidence. “We do,” I say, hoping she doesn’t notice how fast my pulse is racing.

A slow, knowing smile curves her red lips. “But you’re not really married, are you?”

My heart slams to a stop. “What?”

Vera taps her lipstick tube against the counter, her eyes flicking over me in the mirror’s reflection. “Come on, Isabel,” her head cants to the side as she studies my expression. “Maddox.”

My stomach twists. This is exactly the confrontation Lincoln and I dreaded, but from Vera? The one we’ve been trying to charm all night? “You’re… um, who are you?” I try to convey power, but my voice comes out wobbly.

She laughs—a quiet, silky sound that sets my nerves on edge. “Oh, Isabel,” she croons, shutting her compact with a snap. “You think we didn’t set all this up?” Her smile glitters with the triumph of someone who’s figured out a puzzle. “Led you exactly here.”

Fear roils through my gut. My eyes flick to the door, and Vera moves to block my path. “Lincoln will…”

“Will what?” She cuts me off, arching a brow. “Listen, sweetie, I was willing to let you and your protective pseudo-husband play your games, but Morris has other ideas.”

I open my mouth to demand answers, but the click of the restroom door swinging open makes my eyes widen. My heart lodges in my throat when Trey steps in, followed by a tall figure dressed in an immaculate suit—Morris, I realize with a jolt—and two burly men who fan out behind him. Their presence sucks the air from the room. Trey locks the door, and the echo of the latch sliding home feels like a dagger of certainty. I’m trapped.

My pulse thunders. I glare at them, trying to quell the tremor in my muscles. “What’s going on?”

Morris’s dark eyes land on me, a slow, predatory smile curving his lips. Up close, I see the cold calculation in his gaze. “Hello, Isabel,” he says, voice as smooth as satin. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you in person.”

Trey chuckles, coming to stand behind Vera. “Thought we’d skip the small talk, seeing as you and Lincoln are obviously not here just for fun.”

My stomach plummets. They know. They’ve known all along. Desperate thoughts race through my mind: I could scream, try to fight my way out. But the two men behind Morris are built like tanks, and the locked door is behind them. My odds look grim.

My hand clenches at my side. “What do you want?” I snap, struggling to keep my voice steady.

Morris feigns a concerned look. “Why, to talk, of course,” he says, stepping closer. His cologne is overpowering—woodsy and sharp. “But there’s someone else who’s… quite excited to have a conversation with you.” He smirks, exchanging a glance with Vera and Trey. “Thinks you owe him an explanation.”

A chill scuttles across my skin. Someone else? “Lazarus Delgado,” the name falls from my lips like acid. I lunge forward, trying to push past them, but the two bodyguards block me easily. One of them grabs my arm, twisting it behind my back with ruthless efficiency. Pain flares in my shoulder. “Let me go!”

Vera giggles, picking up her clutch. “Always so dramatic. Come on, let’s go somewhere quieter,” she coos, ignoring my struggle.

Panic sears through me as the bodyguards propel me toward the door. I fight, thrashing with every ounce of strength, but their grip is iron. “Lincoln!” I shout, though I know he’s too far away to hear. My voice reverberates uselessly against the tiled walls.

Trey unlocks the door, peering into the hallway to ensure it’s clear. Then we’re moving, hustling me through some back passage I didn’t notice earlier. The music from the club fades behind us, replaced by the hollow echo of my own ragged breathing. Morris stalks at my side, occasionally glancing over with that smug smirk.

We emerge into a dimly lit corridor that smells faintly of cleaning supplies and cigarette smoke. At the end, an unmarked door stands ajar, and outside it, I spot the faint glow of streetlights. This must be a side exit from the club—some staff or VIP entrance. My heart gallops as I twist my head around, desperate for any sign of Lincoln. But there’s no one else here.

Fear galvanizes me, and I kick out, hoping to catch someone’s shin, but one of Morris’s men just snarls and hoists me higher by my arm. Tears of frustration prick my eyes at the helplessness, my shoulder screaming in protest. “Stop!” I choke out. “You have no idea what?—”

Morris waves a hand dismissively. “Oh, we know plenty,” he says, voice cold. “You and your big hero. Trying to worm your way into my circle. Tut-tut.”

Vera’s laughter rings behind us. I angle a glance back, fury and shame warring in my chest. My mind swims with images of Lincoln—where is he? He’ll realize I’m gone, but will it be too late?

A van sits idling at the curb, its back doors wide open, and my heart wrenches at the sight. Everything about this scenario screams danger. The strong grip on my arm forces me forward. I dig my heels in, ignoring the stabs of pain as my shoes scrape the pavement, but the men outmatch me effortlessly.

In a desperate move, I slam my free elbow back, connecting with someone’s ribs. A grunt of pain, but it’s not enough. The second guard curses, his hold tightening until tears blur my vision. “Lincoln!” I scream again, voice breaking with fear. It echoes uselessly off the alley walls.

They shove me into the van, my knees hitting the hard floor. Morris, Vera, and Trey stand watch as the two men climb in after me. One grips a roll of duct tape. My chest constricts.

Morris leans on the side of the door, meeting my gaze with a leisurely smirk. “Don’t worry, my dear,” he purrs. “We’re not done with you yet. But you might not enjoy meeting your… admirer.”

With that, he nods to the bodyguards. Before I can fight again, strong hands force me down, pinning my arms. Tape screeches as it’s ripped from the roll, and the next thing I know, my wrists are bound, the sticky mess cutting into my skin. I thrash, but they’re too strong. My vision tunnels with sheer terror.

Vera’s figure looms in the doorway, half-lit by the van’s dome light. She gives me a mocking wave. “Bye, Isabel,” she chirps. “I had fun meeting and playing with you.”

I want to hurl insults, to scream that Lincoln will tear this place apart to find me, but all that comes out is a strangled sob. The doors slam shut, darkness enveloping me. The engine roars, lurching the van forward, and my stomach pitches with the movement. My pulse pounds in my ears, and my only solace is the certainty that Lincoln will come for me.

He has to. Because right now, I have no one else.

I squeeze my eyes shut, every muscle rigid against the tape cutting into my wrists, forcing myself not to succumb to blind panic. I just need to hold on, to stay strong long enough for Lincoln to find me. Because if Morris’s warnings are any sign, the worst is still to come.