Chapter Twenty-Four
Colton
Blood dripped down from my nose into my mouth, tasting of copper and utter failure.
I staggered to my feet in the dim tunnel, the emergency lights casting everything in shades of scarlet and shadow.
Isabella was gone. Taken. The space where she’d been was now empty except for the lingering scent of her perfume mixed with the smell of my own blood. The image burned into my mind—her graceful body crumpling, eyes wide with betrayal as the drug took hold. The way she’d reached for me as darkness claimed her.
And I hadn’t reached her in time.
My body still hummed with the memory of her—how she’d felt wrapped around me, the sounds she’d made, the way she’d trusted me completely. Now the tunnel felt colder than the marble floors above, empty of everything except echoes and regret.
Stumbling forward, I touched the wall where we’d made love, where I’d lost myself in her so completely I’d forgone protection, forgotten about anything except the need to be as close to her as possible. The stone was still warm. Or maybe that was just my memory playing tricks, like the phantom feel of her dress against my fingertips.
They’d taken her and left me behind. Assumed that she was the greater threat to their operation, and that I was still the weakling and corporate watchdog I’d been before. I tried to make sense of Rodger’s intent, but the only thing I could think of was that not all the board must be in on his schemes. My disappearance would be looked into and perhaps traced back to him. He wouldn’t dispose of me until he absolutely had to.
Isabella, though…the board wouldn’t worry about her.
My earpiece had been knocked out sometime during the fire alarm. I pulled my phone from my pocket, Steele’s number dialing. Blood dripped onto the screen—my blood or the guards’, I wasn’t sure. Didn’t care.
“They took her.” The words felt like ground glass in my throat. “From the maintenance tunnels.”
“Fuck.” His voice was tight with tension. “I knew something was wrong when I lost your signal. What happened?”
“Some kind of gas in the tunnels. Rodger Ross. Multiple exits blocked.” I was moving as I spoke, heading for the nearest way out. Away from where I’d just held her, kissed her…lost her. “Armed security. Professional. They knew exactly what they were doing.”
“Cooper is already calling contacts. I’m twenty minutes out. Stay put—”
“Like hell.”
“Colton.” Resolve was thick in his voice. “You’re in no shape to—”
“They have her.” Everything in me screamed to move, to chase, to tear London apart until I found her. Until I could tell her all the things I should have said before. Before I’d lost control. Before I’d let passion override protection. Before I’d failed her so completely. “Because I wasn’t fast enough. Wasn’t strong enough.”
“And getting yourself killed won’t help her.” Keys clinked on his end. “Think. What did you see? What did you hear?”
I forced myself to focus past the rage and fear. Past the memory of her falling, of blood in my mouth, of regret. Past her last word—my name, soft and frightened in a way Isabella Delacroix should never sound.
“Rodger mentioned Rotterdam.”
“The shipping route.” Papers rustled. “There’s a container scheduled for tonight. Art transport.”
A cold jolt traced my spine. All those missing girls hidden behind forged paperwork. All those lives reduced to numbers in a ledger.
And now Isabella was one of them.
“How long?”
“Four hours until departure. Meet me at the gallery. We’ll need equipment. Maybe more men.”
“I’ve got a contact—Stryker, my trainer. He’ll want to help. I’ll send him your way.”
I was already dialing his number while making my way out of the tunnels. I saw my car parked two blocks away, looking oddly normal on the street. It felt like a lifetime ago that I’d parked it there.
The truth of the situation stopped me. I leaned against the car, legs suddenly weak. The image of Isabella’s body being loaded into a shipping container, cold and dark and alone, made bile rise in my throat. Images flashed through my mind—her coy smile in board meetings, her determination in the vault, her brilliance as she unraveled the bank’s secrets. Her taste on my tongue, her heat around me, her complete trust as she’d let me take her without protection. The way she’d looked at me after, like she saw something in me worth believing in.
Stryker answered on the first ring. He sighed heavily as he listened to me, and I wondered if he was thinking of his sister who had been lost to a similar fate.
“I can’t lose her.” My voice was pleading.
“You won’t.” Stryker’s voice was softer than I’d ever heard it. “But you need to be smart. Channel that brain of yours. I know you’ve been training to physically fight, but in this situation, your intelligence gives us an edge. Text me the address of Steele’s gallery.”
I closed my eyes, my body still bearing the evidence of what we’d just done. Her scent on my skin, the ache in muscles used for passion rather than violence.
“Twenty minutes,” I said. “Then we move.”
I broke several traffic laws as my car raced down the streets of London. The gallery was still dark when I arrived, but Stryker was already laying out equipment. Not workout gear but tactical vests, communication devices, and weapons. Steele stood beside him, that dangerous look in his eyes that reminded me of the Steele from years past.
“Took you long enough.” Steele handed me a vest. “Change. We have work to do. I’ve sent the jet for Cooper, but he’ll be a few hours.”
I stripped off my tuxedo, blood staining the white shirt. Isabella’s dark lipstick still marked my collar, a reminder of how completely she’d undone me just an hour ago. Every movement hurt, but the pain felt right. Deserved. I’d earned it by being too slow. Too weak. Too caught up in wanting her to see the danger closing in.
“The container ship leaves at midnight.” Stryker checked magazines with practiced hands. “Security will be heavy. They’ll be prepared.”
“Good.” I pulled on tactical gear, remembering every drill, every lesson. Everything he’d taught me about protecting what matters. About being ready when it counts. “So are we.”
Stryker moved towards me, his eyes knowing.
“You love her.” It wasn’t a question. His voice was soft. Understanding.
“Yes.” The admission felt like a confession. Like truth finally breaking through all the lies I’d been telling myself. “I think I have since she walked into my office and started questioning everything.”
“Then let’s get her back.” He squeezed my shoulder. “And make them pay for touching what’s yours.”
Steele outlined his plan, marking entry points on a dock layout. Security rotations. Patrol patterns. But my mind kept going back to Isabella. To how scared she must be. To all the words unsaid between us. To how completely she’d trusted me, and how thoroughly I’d failed that trust.
I remembered her in that vault, shivering against me. In countless meetings where she’d challenged me, frustrated me, fascinated me. In that tunnel, giving herself to me completely. How had I not seen it then? How had I not recognized this feeling for what it was?
Love. Terrifying, overwhelming, impossible love.
“The container yard has two main entrances,” Steele was saying. “But there’s a maintenance access point here that the guards don’t watch closely. Cooper’s contact will get us through, someone from his smuggling days.”
I nodded, checking my weapon.
“The ship berths here.” Steele pointed to the map. “They’ll load the ‘art shipments’ last. Temperature-controlled containers go in specific holds.”
“How many guards?”
“At least twelve on the ground. More on the ship.” Stryker’s voice was grim. “Plus whatever crew is involved.”
“Doesn’t matter.” I checked my spare magazines. “They all die if they touch her.”
“Easy, Colton.” Steele’s hand on my shoulder. “Think first, act second, remember?
It would be a struggle when rage was on my side.
“Ready?” Stryker asked.
“Yes.”
“Then let’s go get your girl.” He moved towards the door. “And Colton?”
“Yeah?”
“Next time? Tell her you love her before the villain takes her.”
“I will.” I followed them out into London’s darkness. “Right after I kill everyone who touches her.”
Because that’s what love meant in our world, this world that now I fully inhabited. Protection. Vengeance. The willingness to burn everything down for one person.
And I loved Isabella Delacroix enough to set the whole world on fire. I was ruined, ravaged. Unmade and reforged in the crucible of my own treacherous desire. And no matter how hard I fought, how savagely I tried to deny it…
I would crawl over broken glass for just one more taste of her. One more glimpse of the salvation and damnation entwined inextricably in her knowing smile.
She owned me, body and soul. And god help me…I reveled in my captivity.
“Stay focused,” Stryker warned as we loaded into his SUV. “Love makes men stupid. Makes them take risks.”
“I’m always stupid around her,” I admitted. “So desperate.”
“Then channel it.” His eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. “Use it. But don’t let it blind you.”
I nodded, fitting a new earpiece into place. Three hours until the ship sailed. Three hours to find her, save her, tell her everything I should have said before.
Three hours to prove that love wasn’t always laced with devastation.
It was about fighting. Surviving. Setting the world on fire to light the way home.
“I’m coming, Isabella,” I whispered as London blurred past. “Hold on.”