Chapter 13
LANIE
The full impact of what had happened didn’t sink in until they were back at Archer’s home.
She was safe.
The victims had been freed.
The Master’s Market had suffered a catastrophic blow.
Vinnie was dead.
It was over.
For the first time in years, she wasn’t looking over her shoulder. She wasn’t waiting for the next moment to run, to fight, to survive. Lanie could also identify feelings of being untethered and lost.
She sat curled on the couch in Archer’s dimly lit living room, legs tucked under her, staring at the fire crackling in the hearth. She barely remembered Archer leading her inside, his hands steady on her back, his voice quiet and reassuring.
Now, he was nearby, but not crowding her. She felt him, though. The heat of his presence, the unwavering strength of his silence. He hadn’t spoken since they got back. Hadn’t asked her how she was feeling, hadn’t told her she’d done a good job, hadn’t pushed her to process any of it before she was ready. He hadn’t even scolded her. It was a little unnerving.
Instead, he waited, and the significance of that seemed to mean more than anything else.
Finally, a slow, shuddering breath left her lips. “I don’t know what to do now.”
Archer, who had been sitting in the leather chair across from her, finally moved. He didn’t speak right away, just stood, walking toward her with quiet, controlled steps. When he reached her, he crouched down in front of her, resting his forearms on his knees. His gaze locked onto hers, steady, searching.
“You breathe,” he said simply.
Lanie let out a soft, humorless laugh. “That’s all?”
“For now.”
Her throat tightened. “I’ve been running for so long. I don’t know how to not be afraid.”
Archer reached out, brushing his knuckles over her cheek. The touch was featherlight but grounding. “Then let me remind you.”
She swallowed, searching his face. The firelight flickered over his features, casting shadows along his sharp jawline, his blue eyes dark and unreadable. He wasn’t demanding anything from her. He wasn’t expecting her to bounce back, to be okay just because the danger had passed.
He was giving her time.
Lanie’s breath trembled. “You won’t let me run, will you?”
His fingers trailed down her throat, stopping just above her pulse point. “Not a chance, little one.”
She exhaled sharply, the knot in her chest began to uncoil. She realized now what she needed. Not space; not distance. Him. Her anchor. Her home.
She reached up, hesitating for only a moment before curling her fingers around his wrist. “I don’t want to run anymore.”
A flicker of something passed through Archer’s gaze. He didn’t speak, just lifted her hand, pressing a kiss to the center of her palm.
Her breath hitched. It was such a simple gesture, but it unraveled something deep inside her.
She wanted him. Not just for protection. Not just for safety. She wanted to be his. She had completely conquered her fear of that.
A small, shaky inhale. Then she let go of his wrist and slid off the couch, sinking onto her knees in front of him. Archer’s entire body stilled. Lanie’s hands rested lightly on her thighs, her gaze lifted.
“I want this,” she whispered. “I want you.”
Archer’s jaw tightened. “You’re sure?”
“Yes.” His fingers curled into fists at his sides, as if he was holding himself back. “Not out of fear. Not out of need.”
He growled low, lifting her face and searching it. “You’re choosing this. You’re choosing me.”
Lanie’s pulse raced. She had never felt so sure of anything in her life.
“I choose you, Daddy.”
He seemed to experience a sudden shift—not a breaking, but a settling into place. He exhaled deeply, his entire body shifting as he reached for her, cupping her face with both hands. “Good girl.”
The praise sent a shiver through her. Then, slowly, deliberately, Archer leaned in, capturing her mouth in a deep, possessive kiss. Lanie melted against him, her hands sliding up to grip his wrists, holding onto him like he was the only solid thing in her world. His lips moved over hers with slow, devastating control, his tongue teasing, coaxing, until she was gasping against him.
He pulled back just enough to murmur, “Upstairs. Now.”
She didn’t hesitate; she rocked up onto her knees only to have Archer guide her through the darkened house, his grip firm around her wrist. When they reached his bedroom, he turned to face her, his expression unreadable.
“Clothes off.”
Heat pooled low in her belly. She obeyed, slipping out of her dress with careful, measured movements, letting the silk slide down her body and removing her undergarments until she was bare before him.
Archer let out a slow, controlled breath, his gaze drinking her in. Then, without hesitation and with what seemed to be a sense of ownership, he touched her. Not rough, not hurried, but slow and reverent. His hands traced her curves. His lips followed, worshipping every inch of her skin.
Lanie trembled beneath his touch, her body burning, her breath coming faster as his mouth moved lower, teasing, tormenting. Kneeling, he found her clit with his tongue, and she cried out—a shattered moan—her fingers in his hair, her hips tilting into his mouth as pleasure overwhelmed her.
He didn’t let up. Didn’t stop until she was begging, writhing, completely undone before him, barely able to stand. And then he stood, scooping her up and depositing her in his bed before removing his own clothes and joining her there.
Leaning over, he sucked one hardened nipple into his mouth and sucked hard before giving it the edge of his teeth as his fingers closed around the other and pinched it. Before she could even moan, he flipped her onto her belly, guiding her hands above her head as he pulled her up onto her knees while pressing her shoulders into the mattress.
“You stay like this—down in front with your ass and pussy presented to me and where I can reach your tits. You’re mine, little one,” he murmured against her ear, his voice rough, possessive. “Say it.”
Lanie’s breath stuttered as she nodded, saying, “I’m yours.”
Archer growled his approval. Then, with a single deep, slow thrust, he entered her. He drew back and then thrust in harder, more powerfully, possessively, filling her completely. It felt so good to be taken like this—hard and sure, rough and demanding—especially after all that had happened. He was making the point that he wasn’t happy about what she’d done, but he was also showing her he knew she wasn’t some fragile, delicate thing that would break easily.
His hips pounded against her ass, he fisted her hair and angling her head back so he could take her mouth. Their tongues danced together in a passionate kiss. His free hand squeezed one of her tits—first the whole thing and then the nipple, making her gasp. His fingers traced circles around nipples, sending shivers of delight through her entire body.
When he pulled out, she cried out in protest and received a sharp smack on her behind—the sting a welcome pain that gave away to pleasure as he rubbed it before spreading her labia and shoving his cock back in her wet pussy. He pulled out, teasing her, running the head from her clit downwards and back.
She moaned as he slammed back into her, the sudden jolt of pain from him hitting that spot making way for a wave of pleasure as he filled her up once more. She let out a long sigh, her breasts pressing against the soft mattress as his hands roamed over her body, tweaking and pinching her nipples. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room as their pace sped up faster and harder each time. It felt like he was claiming her, marking her as his own, and it drove Lanie wild with need.
His fingers traced circular patterns on her belly, leaving goosebumps in their wake as she arched her back to take him deeper. His fingers found her clit and circled it before pinching down, causing her to jolt. His low groan, as he held her hips and pounded into her from behind, sent shivers down her spine, making her shudder with the anticipation of what was to come. As he whispered words of encouragement, telling her how wet she was, how tight, how much he loved hearing her beg for more, Lanie lost herself in the moment.
His hips pumped against her ass, taking her so close before pulling back. It felt amazing to be taken so roughly yet so tenderly at the same time; a contradiction that made perfect sense under his skilled touch.
Finally, he couldn’t hold back anymore and shoved himself deep, saying, “You can come now, little one.”
At Archer’s words, Lanie’s body shattered into a million pieces and she called his name as her orgasm rocked through her, her pussy clenching around him like a vice grip as he found his own release deep inside her.
He’d claimed her. They both knew it. Every roll of his hips, every whispered command, every shuddering cry that left her lips had sealed the deal. It had been everything—everything she’d been afraid of; everything she’d wanted; and most importantly, everything she’d needed.
By the time it was over, she was boneless, her body completely spent, her mind hazy with pleasure. Archer didn’t withdraw right away. He stayed inside her, his body pressed against hers, his lips brushing the side of her neck in a quiet, possessive kiss. Lanie exhaled softly, her fingers curling into the sheets. For the first time in years, she felt whole.
Archer shifted, withdrawing and rolling onto his back, pulling her against his chest, tucking her beneath his arm. His grip was firm, possessive, his lips pressing one last kiss to her forehead before he whispered, “Sleep, little one.”
And this time, she did.
Lanie woke to the feel of warm, solid heat at her back. Archer’s arm, heavy and possessive, draped over her waist, anchoring her in place. His breath was a slow, steady rhythm against the back of her neck, his body curled around hers in a way that left no room for escape—not that she wanted one.
For the first time in years, she wasn’t waking up to fear. She wasn’t flinching at the sound of footsteps outside her door or the phantom feeling of hands that didn’t belong. She was completely and utterly safe. And it had nothing to do with the security system, the armed Cerberus agents posted outside, or the gun Archer kept within arm’s reach.
It had everything to do with the man himself. Lanie let out a soft breath, shifting slightly, just enough to turn in his arms. Archer stirred, his grip tightening, as if even in sleep, he refused to let her go.
His face was relaxed in the early morning light, all the sharp, commanding edges softened. He looked almost peaceful.
Almost.
Lanie reached up, running her fingers lightly over his jaw. He made a quiet noise, his eyes flickering open, locking almost immediately on her, sharp despite the haze of sleep.
She smiled. “Morning.”
Archer studied her for a long moment, then, without a word, he rolled, pinning her beneath him in one slow, controlled movement.
Lanie let out a breathless laugh. “You really don’t enjoy waking up alone, do you?”
His lips brushed over her throat, the rasp of his stubble making her shiver. “You’re mine,” he murmured against her skin. “Don’t need to wake up alone anymore.”
Something warm, wild, and undeniable unfurled within her. She slid her hands up his back, fingers tracing the powerful lines of his muscles. “Good,” she whispered. “Because I don’t want to run anymore.”
Archer stilled. He lifted his head, gaze burning into hers. “You sure?”
Lanie nodded. “I spent so much time trying to survive, I forgot what it was like to live. I don’t want to keep running from something—I want to run toward something.”
His jaw flexed, emotion flickering behind his gaze. “And what are you running toward, little one?”
She smiled, lifting a hand to his face. “You.”
Archer’s fingers tangled in her hair, his grip just firm enough to make her breath catch. “Say it again.”
Lanie swallowed, holding his gaze. “I’m done running. I love you, Archer.”
A slow smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “That’s good, and I love you, too. But just so we’re clear, if you run, I will chase you. I will find you. And I will spank you so hard, you’ll never be able to sit again.”
Before she could respond, his lips crashed against hers, his kiss slow, consuming, like he was sealing the promise between them. She sighed into him, melting completely, surrendering in a way she never had before—not out of submission, but out of trust.
Because he was hers. And she was his. Forever.
An hour later, they remained tangled together when Archer’s phone buzzed on the nightstand.
Archer muttered a curse, rolling to the side and grabbing it. Lanie curled against him, pressing a lazy kiss to his shoulder as he answered.
“Vaughn.” A pause, then, “Yeah.”
Another pause. A slow exhale. Lanie felt the change in him instantly. His body, relaxed just moments ago, went rigid beneath her touch. Archer didn’t respond immediately. He listened, jaw tight, fingers flexing around the phone.
“I’ll be there.”
He hung up, tossing the phone onto the nightstand.
She sat up, pulling the sheet up around her. “What is it?”
“Seth’s been working non-stop on the data we retrieved from the Master’s Market. A self-destruct program destroyed much of the data, and Seth couldn’t stop it in time to save it all. But he got our IT team digging through what he could save, trying to find who was helping them find submissives at Club Southside and supplying them with information.”
“Who?”
“Tessa,” he said softly.
“Tessa? Lanie was shocked and hurt, but the revelation made perfect sense. Her position allowed her to identify potential submissive targets and eavesdrop on Cerberus’ plans. “She was my friend.”
Archer shook his head. “No, little one, she wasn’t. We’ve found emails that lead us to believe she’s the one who let Molina know where you were. Molina might be dead, but the Master’s Market isn’t.”
Her breath caught. “What?”
“They were bigger than we thought,” Archer said, rubbing a hand over his face. “Molina was just a recruiter, a middleman. King has leads on the real players behind the operation—the ones pulling the strings.”
Lanie’s heart pounded. “So, it’s not over.”
Archer’s gaze darkened. “It is for you, but no, not yet.”
For a moment, silence stretched between them. Then, slowly, Lanie reached for Archer’s hand.
He frowned. “Lanie...”
“I want in.”
His grip tightened, his jaw flexing. “Not happening.”
She lifted her chin. “Archer...”
“No.” His voice was firm. Absolute. “This isn’t your fight.”
Lanie narrowed her eyes. “Like hell it isn’t. They were going to sell me. How is that not my fight?”
Archer exhaled through his nose, frustration flashing in his eyes. “Lanie, I just got you back. I’m not putting you in the middle of this war.”
She sat up, the sheet pooling around her waist. “You don’t get to make that decision for me.”
Archer’s gaze snapped to hers. “You are mine, little one, and I protect what’s mine.”
Lanie’s breath hitched. “Then let me fight with you.”
Archer stared at her; his expression was unreadable.
She reached up, pressing her palm to his chest, feeling the steady, powerful beat of his heart. “I’m not asking to put myself in danger. But I can help. I can do more than just hide behind you. I need to do more than just hide behind you.”
His lips pressed into a thin line.
“Please,” she whispered. “Don’t put me in another kind of cage.”
A long silence. Then, finally, Archer let out a slow breath.
His hand cupped the back of her neck, tilting her head until her eyes locked onto his. “You’re mine,” he repeated, voice like gravel. “And you will obey me.”
Lanie swallowed hard. “And if I give you my word?”
He tilted his head slightly, considering. “I’ll let you in.”
A slow, victorious smile curled Lanie’s lips. She knew what that cost him. Knew how much he wanted to lock her away, to keep her safe. But he was giving her this because he trusted her.
She nodded. “Deal.”
Archer sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “You think you’re a fighter, little one?”
Lanie lifted her chin, her dark eyes burning with determination. “I know I am.”
Archer let out a low, deep chuckle. Lanie grinned, her heart pounding with something new and exciting. She might submit to him, but that didn’t diminish her in his eyes. They were going to fight together, and they were going to finish this.