Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
FIONA
A fter the most intense sex of my life, I should have been out until morning, but I wake around four a.m. with Alex in my head, demanding I finish her story.
That woman I’m friends with at the Milk Cult’s headquarters, she’s not a victim. She’s one of the organizers! You have to write how I outsmart her and free the girls.
At first I try to ignore her, but she just gets louder and louder until, with a sigh, I slip out of Connor’s bed and pad down the hall into my old room. Taking a seat at the desk, I flip open my laptop and navigate to my work in progress. I start to write again, and holy shit, I’m reminded that Connor is a veritable dragon muse. The words fly out of me. And as the hours tick by, Alex double-crosses the woman in charge, pretending to be her friend and confidante, before flipping on her once she knows the location of the trafficked women. She frees them all with the help of Henrik Angel, who shows up just in time and still looks a hell of a lot like Connor. I end the book with Henrik stealing a kiss from Alex behind the police station and daring her to go on a real date with him. I smile as I type The End. The fans are going to love that.
I pop open my email and message my editor with the subject “Better late than never.” I attach the manuscript along with a quick note and send it on its way. It’s like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders. The sun is rising, light is streaming through the window, and I’m ready to celebrate. I’m going to crawl back into bed with Connor, make love for three days straight, only stopping to hydrate and eat gourmet meals we prepare together, and plan the next phase of our lives.
I’m closing my mail app when the text message bubble pops up on my dashboard and three dots appear next to Roman’s icon. My stomach descends into the pits of hell. The bottomless pit. Two words.
Roman: Be ready.
Fear floods my system, my blood turning cold as ice.
Me: What do you mean?
There’s no reply.
I read through our previous exchanges. All in time. That’s how he’d replied when I asked why he hadn’t done anything to get me back. Was he planning to come for me now?
“Fiona?” I look over my shoulder to find Connor standing there, rubbing his chest.
I swallow, my face feeling cold, as if all the blood has rushed from it. Slowly, because I can’t speak, I raise my hand and point toward the chat box .
He strides to my side and reads the entire interaction. I don’t even consider hiding it. He can feel my fear down the bond, for one, and I don’t want to be the cause of anything happening to him if Roman does something stupid.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “Zaire gave me the Wi-Fi password, and I sent it before…” He gives me a sharp look and I stop talking. Before I realized I love you. Before you became my new center of gravity.
A muscle in his jaw twitches. Fuck, he’s angry. I feel it like my face is too close to the fire and I draw back, tears slipping from the corners of my eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I squeak. Does he think I deceived him? That I truly want to be rescued by Roman?
He does a double take, then turns to me, taking my hands between his own. “I’m not angry at you, Fi, just the situation,” he says softly, brushing my hair out of my eyes. “I told Zaire to give you the password.”
“What?” I’m both relieved and annoyed at that revelation.
“I told him to give you the password so that you could see for yourself that Roman hadn’t reported you missing. I also thought, since he wasn’t responding to us, maybe he would respond to you. We still need the Order to answer for Lucy’s death.”
I gape. “You let me believe I tricked Zaire into giving me your supersecret Wi-Fi password, and all this time you meant for me to have it? How did you know I wouldn’t use it to contact the police or the FBI?”
He sits on the bed beside me, his elbows resting on his thighs. “You’ve been here three weeks. The door has never been locked. Not a single minute since you arrived. If you walked to the end of the driveway, you’d find a road that would lead you to town. There’s a phone, a landline in the kitchen you could have used at any time. If you’d asked Zaire for help, he’d have given it to you. You’ve never been my prisoner, Fi. I knew you wouldn’t leave, and I knew you wouldn’t contact the police the same way I knew last night would eventually happen. Your soul called to me. You called to me from that altar, and I answered you.”
I think back. The door was never locked unless I locked it. The phone is exactly where he says it is, but I never tried to use it. I could have gone outside anytime I wanted to. I was left alone almost every afternoon and never tried to escape. I’m no damsel, and I wasn’t waiting for Roman to save me. But I was waiting. Waiting for my mind to catch up to where my soul already was.
I meet those stormy blue eyes, now so familiar. My very own Viking dragon, complete with wings. “Well, your plan worked and it sounds like Roman is coming for me. What are we going to do?”
“You’re safe here. I’ll make sure of that. I’ll call in a few of my brothers. We’ll figure something out.” He rises from the floor and kisses my head. “Try not to worry about it. How about pancakes? You want some pancakes?”
“Try not to worry about the psycho I almost married ‘rescuing’ me from the man I eternally love? I’m not sure that’s possible,” I say through a tightening throat.
He turns and starts for the door as if he’s not worried at all. “Pancakes, Fi. You are underestimating the power of carbs dressed in real creamery butter and maple syrup.”
I rise to follow him into the kitchen, wanting to match his optimistic vibe, but a lead ball forms in my stomach at the memory of how Roman looked at me when he had me sign our marriage license. He’s a man used to getting what he wants. Since the moment I arrived here, I suspected he’d come after me, if for no other reason than he hates to lose. If Roman says to be ready after all this time, I have no doubt he’s got a plan, and I can’t help but worry about all it might entail.