Chapter Ten #2
The magnitude of what I'd narrowly escaped crashed over me like a physical weight. I could have been number eight. I could have been another "accident" in Harris's ledger, another missing person report filed and forgotten. If I hadn't stumbled into Julian's hotel room that night...
The sound of the door handle turning made me jerk upright. I hadn't locked it.
"Connor?" Julian's voice was soft on the other side. "Can I come in?"
I didn't answer, but the door opened anyway, revealing Julian's wheelchair in the gap. He maneuvered himself into the space, which suddenly seemed much smaller with both of us in it. The door clicked shut behind him.
"I heard," I said before he could speak, my voice rough with unshed tears. "About the others. The missing men."
Julian's expression softened, the CEO mask slipping away to reveal the man I was coming to know in private moments. "I was going to tell you when you were ready."
I turned back to the sink, unable to meet his eyes as the words escaped me. "I could have been just another missing person, just another 'convenient accident' after he was done with me."
The soft whir of Julian's wheelchair approached, and then his hands were on mine, gently prying my fingers from their death grip on the porcelain.
"Look at me, Connor," he said, his voice firm but gentle.
I forced myself to meet his gaze in the mirror. His dark eyes held none of the pity I feared, only a steady warmth that anchored me.
"Yes, that could have happened, but you found me instead," he said, one hand coming up to cup the back of my neck. The possessiveness in his voice should have frightened me after learning what Harris did to men he considered his property. Instead, it made me feel strangely safe, protected.
"I broke into your hotel room," I corrected, a humorless laugh escaping me. "Not exactly a romantic meeting."
Julian's lips curved into that almost-smile I was coming to treasure. "I prefer to think of it as destiny with poor planning."
Despite everything, I felt a genuine smile tug at my own lips. Julian's hand was warm against my neck, his touch grounding me as the panic began to recede.
"Come here," he said, tugging me down.
I went willingly, awkwardly kneeling beside his wheelchair to bring myself to his eye level. It wasn't graceful—nothing about our situation was—but when Julian's arms wrapped around me, pulling me against his chest, the awkwardness didn't matter.
I buried my face against his shoulder, breathing in the scent that had become familiar in such a short time. His expensive cologne, the subtle smell of leather from his wheelchair, and something else that was uniquely Julian. His hand stroked my hair, gentle and soothing.
"I won't let him near you," Julian murmured, his breath warm against my ear. "I won't let you become another name on his list."
I believed him. Despite the absurdity of our situation—married strangers hiding from a pharmaceutical magnate with a sideline in human trafficking—I trusted Julian's promise with a certainty that should have been impossible after knowing him for less than a week.
"I know," I whispered against his neck, feeling his pulse strong and steady beneath my lips. "I trust you."
I felt rather than saw his smile as he pressed a kiss to my temple. "Good. Now—"
The bathroom door burst open without warning, Delancy standing in the doorway with a laptop clutched in his hands. His eyes widened slightly as he took in our position—me kneeling beside Julian's wheelchair, Julian's arms around me—but he didn't comment on it.
"Sorry to interrupt," he said, not sounding particularly sorry. "But we've got something—evidence of Harris drugging and trafficking at least three other men. It's all here, financial records, surveillance photos, everything we need."
Julian's posture changed instantly, his body going rigid with protective fury as he released me. The transition from tender comforter to commanding CEO happened so quickly I almost got whiplash watching it.
"Show me," he demanded, already wheeling himself toward the door.
I stood slowly, legs stiff from kneeling on the tile floor. The moment of intimacy was over, replaced by the harsh reality of why we were all here. Harris was still out there. Men like me were still in danger.
And Julian was preparing to go to war.
We gathered in the main room around Delancy's laptop, the tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. I hung back from the group, arms crossed over my chest like I could physically hold myself together.
The enormity of what I'd just learned in the bathroom still echoed in my mind—seven men, all gone, all forgotten. Seven lives snuffed out after Harris was done with them. Seven versions of what could have been my fate.
Delancy placed his laptop on the central table, his usually impassive face showing actual emotion as he opened files with quick, precise clicks. "This wasn't easy to get," he said, his voice tight. "Harris has better security than most government agencies."
The screen filled with spreadsheets, financial records with dates, amounts, and clinical notations that made my stomach turn. Each entry represented a person—someone who had been bought and sold like merchandise.
"These are payment records," Delancy explained, scrolling through the document. "Each transaction corresponds to what Harris calls an 'acquisition.' Names are coded, but the patterns are consistent."
Jake leaned in, his normally carefree expression hardened into something I barely recognized. "And you're certain these match the missing persons cases?"
"Dates align perfectly," Delancy confirmed, switching to another screen. "But that's not all."
The spreadsheet disappeared, replaced by surveillance photos that made my breath catch. Young men—all vaguely similar in build and coloring to me—being escorted into various properties. In each photo, the men appeared disoriented, supported by handlers on either side, drugged, just like I had been.
"Jesus," someone whispered.
I felt bile rise in my throat as I looked at these strangers who shared my fate but not my luck.
One photo in particular caught my attention—a sandy-haired young man whose head lolled to one side as two larger men guided him through a garden gate.
His unfocused eyes stared directly at the camera, vacant and lost.
That could have been me.
"The properties are all registered to shell companies," Delancy continued, his voice fading into background noise as I struggled to process the images. "But we've traced ownership back to Harris through at least three layers of corporate entities."
Julian positioned his wheelchair at the head of the group, his back straight, shoulders squared. He'd transitioned fully into the commanding CEO I'd glimpsed in moments throughout our short time together—a man accustomed to taking control in crisis.
"Locations?" he asked, his voice calm but with an edge of steel beneath.
"Three primary sites," Delancy replied, pulling up a map marked with red dots. "Two in the city, one upstate near the pharmaceutical testing facility."
Julian nodded, eyes scanning the information with methodical precision. "Security protocols?"
"Heavy at all locations. Private guards, electronic surveillance, biometric access."
"Points of vulnerability?"
"Working on it," Delancy said. "Alejandro has contacts who might provide additional insights."
The conversation continued around me, tactical and practical, as they discussed how to use this information.
I stood slightly apart, arms still crossed protectively over my chest, feeling both central to the discussion and completely irrelevant to it. These were Julian's people, experts in their fields, planning a complex operation to take down a dangerous predator.
And I was just... me. Connor Matthews—or Montgomery now, I supposed—a college student who'd never done anything more daring than break into a hotel room while drugged.
I drifted further from the table, the weight of those surveillance photos pressing down on me. Each of those young men had a story, a life, dreams that had been cut short by the same man who had intended to add me to his collection.
A prickling sensation at the back of my neck made me look up.
Across the room, Julian was watching me with an intensity that made my pulse quicken.
Despite the discussion continuing around him, his focus was entirely on me, dark eyes tracking my movements with an expression I couldn't quite decipher.
When our eyes met, he didn't look away as I expected. Instead, his gaze held mine, steady and certain. Then, without warning, his lips moved, silently forming three words that even from across the room, I could read perfectly.
I choose you.
The declaration hung between us, invisible to everyone else yet as tangible to me as if he'd shouted it. Not "I protect you" or "I'll save you," but "I choose you"—words that implied agency, deliberation, commitment beyond our hasty marriage of convenience.
Something shifted in my chest, a warm certainty spreading through me that had nothing to do with the tracking device beneath my skin. My shoulders straightened almost of their own accord, chin lifting slightly as I held his gaze.
In that moment, I understood that whatever had started between us in that hotel room wasn't just about protection or physical chemistry. It had evolved into something neither of us had anticipated—a connection that defied the circumstances of our meeting.
Julian Montgomery, CEO and billionaire, a man who could have anyone, was choosing me. Not because I needed saving, but because he wanted me.
The moment stretched between us, weighted with promise, until I found myself mouthing back three different words.
I trust you.
His expression softened, the corner of his mouth lifting in that almost-smile I was coming to cherish. Then, as if some invisible thread connecting us had been cut, his attention snapped back to the discussion at hand, his CEO mask sliding seamlessly back into place.
I was still processing what had just happened when the penthouse elevator chimed, announcing an arrival.
Kyue burst into the room, his usual composed demeanor replaced with barely contained urgency.
His long black hair was coming loose from its tie, as if he'd been running his hands through it in frustration.
"Harris is making his move," he announced, holding up a tablet displaying what looked like a breaking news headline. "He's calling in favors with the board of Montgomery Industries."
The room went silent, all eyes turning to Julian, whose expression remained carefully neutral even as his knuckles whitened against the armrests of his wheelchair.
"What kind of move?" Jake demanded, stepping forward to take the tablet from Kyue.
"He's trying to force an emergency vote to remove Julian as CEO," Kyue explained, his accent becoming more pronounced in his agitation. "Claiming his disability makes him unfit to lead during this 'critical time of growth.'"
I watched the color drain from Julian's face, though his expression remained unchanged. This was more than just an attack—it was personal, aimed at the heart of what Julian had built, using his accident against him in the most vicious way possible.
"When?" Julian's voice was dangerously quiet.
"Board meeting called for tomorrow morning, 8 AM," Kyue replied. "Harris has been working the phones all day, securing proxy votes."
The atmosphere in the room shifted, tension crystallizing into something harder, more focused. I saw Jake pull out his phone, already dialing. Lucas muttered a curse that would have made my former college roommates blush. Michael moved to Julian's side, a silent pillar of support.
And Julian—Julian looked directly at me again, his dark eyes burning with quiet fury and something else, something fiercer that made my breath catch.
Whatever was happening between us, whatever had begun in that hotel room and evolved through these days of danger, it had just become entangled in a corporate war I barely understood.
Harris wasn't just coming for me anymore.
He was coming for everything Julian cared about.
Including me.