Chapter 23
Emily exhaled shakily. Oversized sweats hung loose on her frame—borrowed clothes someone had pressed into her hands after the rescue—but even wrapped in soft cotton, she felt raw, scraped open.
Her hands wouldn’t stop trembling. No matter how firmly she gripped the water bottle, the faint tremor persisted.
She didn’t open it. She couldn’t, not without letting go of Alec.
His fingers were laced with hers beneath the table, grounding her like nothing else could.
He noticed immediately and slid his hand free long enough to twist off the cap. “Drink,” he ordered, the same steady command he’d used after their scene at the club. Then he reclaimed her hand, threading their fingers together.
Alec wasn’t wrong. She’d had neither food nor drink while a captive. The cool liquid eased her dry lips and throat.
Across the conference table, the frantic clatter of Gaby’s typing cut through the silence.
Keys clicking, the processor humming, hope and dread moving in parallel.
No one spoke. Not Alec, though his thumb stroked slow, steady circles on her knuckles.
Not Mateo or Leland, still in tactical gear by the door.
Not Devil, whose pacing carved a restless path at the head of the table.
Rhys leaned forward, elbows braced on the table, jaw locked. The tension in his shoulders spoke volumes.
Gaby’s laptop chimed, and every head in the room snapped up. It had been excruciatingly slow, but the files—the ones she’d risked her life to steal—had finally downloaded.
“Done,” she announced.
Callan stepped in, already reaching for the computer. “If you’ll excuse me,” he said briskly. “I’ve got decryption programs to run.”
Devil stopped pacing. “I’m not sure where to begin with my questions.”
The door opened.
Two men in suits entered—late, unapologetic. One scanned the room, freezing when his gaze landed on Gaby.
“Officer Flores,” he said. “Are you working for Devlin now?”
Rhys straightened, his voice low and sharp. “Officer? You’re a cop?”
Gaby didn’t even flinch. “Not anymore.”
Devil’s eyes narrowed. “You infiltrated our club undercover? How? Our screenings are extensive.”
She met his gaze, steady as she disclosed, “I used a clean identity—one the department helped me build for another case. No ties to law enforcement, no red flags, nothing to find. Joining during an expansion, with your team already stretched thin, gave me an advantage I can’t take credit for.”
Devil exhaled, slow and deliberate. “Risky, but smart.” He glanced at Leland. “We have gaps in our security to seal.”
“I’m on it first thing,” Leland replied, not looking at all pleased.
Rhys sat motionless, as if carved from stone.
His stare stayed fixed on Gaby, unreadable at first, but Emily recognized the undercurrent of anger.
They had been intimate, totally into each other.
Even Alec, who knew a thing or two, thought so.
Emily could imagine the betrayal he felt, like being punched in the gut.
“Did you join before or after handing in your badge?” he asked quietly, with no inflection whatsoever.
“After. I resigned when my superiors ignored my suspicions. When I pushed, they handed everything over to the feds—who spent months accomplishing nothing.”
The taller agent bristled. “We followed protocol.”
“While girls kept disappearing,” Gaby snapped.
Devil’s tone cut through the room. “Let me remind you—this is a debrief, not a pissing match.”
The agents exchanged a glance then fell silent. Gaby nodded once, her posture rigid.
Rhys spoke again, colder now. “So, it was a role you played.”
She didn’t answer, but the flush in her cheeks said enough.
“Are you even a submissive?” he asked.
“No,” she said softly.
Emily remembered their scene—how connected they’d seemed. She doubted her answer, but it convinced Rhys. His expression shuttered completely, and he rose and walked out without another word.
“I never meant to hurt anyone,” Gaby said, voice tight. “Which is why I kept my distance. Except with…” She trailed off took a breath and regrouped. “I’m sorry for stepping on toes. I did what I thought I had to—for Natalie.”
Emily leaned forward. “My brother was a cop. My dad too. They tried to expose the traffickers through official channels. They hit roadblocks at every turn. I suspect the corruption in the Miami PD reaches the highest levels. It cost them their lives.”
Startled, Gaby’s eyes widened. “I didn’t know.”
“She isn’t wrong,” Alec said, voice low. “It’s part of why I left the department. It needs a full purge—from the top down.”
“Agreed,” Devil added, his gaze shifting to the agents.
“We’ll look into it,” one offered.
“As will I,” Devil said, his intensity chilling. A shiver danced down Emily’s spine. The agents seemed to feel it as well, shifting uneasily. The challenge hung in the silence.
“I didn’t expect to find allies here,” Gaby murmured.
Emily offered a soft smile. “You found one, at least.”
“In exchange for an enemy?” Her gaze flicked toward the door Rhys had disappeared through. Pain—barely masked—shadowed her eyes.
Alec’s jaw flexed, and he answered before Emily could. “He’s a good man. I’m certain he’ll come around, but it may take time. Learning you slipped past our defenses—in a place where we thought our privacy was protected—was a shock to all of us.”
Gaby nodded. Her shoulders sagged, tension draining from her posture, but her fingers curled around the table’s edge, knuckles white. “I’ll talk to him and try to help him understand.”
Emily heard the brittleness in her voice and the fragile wish beneath it. She knew how some choices carved wounds that were slow if not impossible to close. Alec was proof of that. Her brother even more so.
She reached for Gaby’s hand—small comfort, but all she had. She seized it instantly, gripping hard enough to pinch. She clung as though drowning, and Emily was the only thing keeping her afloat.
That was fine. Emily wasn’t letting go.
***
Dev sent everyone home, except Callan who wouldn’t rest until he’d accessed the files. If they were lucky, the data contained buyers’ purchase history and locations. It was a long shot, but Enzo was cocky. Alec hoped he’d been careless too.
He took Emily to his place. It was closer, quieter, and the bed was big enough for both of them to collapse without crowding.
She hadn’t questioned it. Just offered exhausted compliance, as he led her out into the daylight that felt too bright, too clean after what they’d just come from.
She dozed on the drive, and he carried her upstairs.
In the bathroom, Alec turned on the tap.
He stripped her, removing the borrowed clothes and revealing bruises in the shape of fingerprints rough hands had left and the angry red welt from the electric burn on her neck.
He didn’t speak. Just bathed her in silence, the sponge gliding over skin once flawless with the utmost care.
His lips brushed her shoulder once then the curve of her hip—not out of desire but devotion. A silent promise: I’ve got you.
When he finished, she lifted a hand to his cheek in silent gratitude.
He toweled her dry gently and carried her to his bed, tucking her in like she was something precious—which she was, to him. When he climbed in beside her, she blinked up at him.
“It’s the middle of the day. I’m fine,” she insisted. “You don’t need to stay.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
She curled into him, her fingers clutching his shirt, defying her own words. She wasn’t fine, but she would be. He’d see to that.
Holding her close, one arm around her waist, the other cradling her head, her breath was warm against his collarbone, when she whispered, barely audible, “My knight. I knew you’d rescue me.”
The words cut deep.
If he were truly her knight, she wouldn’t have been huddled on that stage with the others—terrified, bruised, treated like cattle. If they’d been minutes later, she could’ve vanished like Gaby’s sister—lost to him forever.
The thought carved straight through him.
Alec buried his face in her hair trying to contain his unrelenting rage, and the knowledge that no amount of vigilance could erase what had already been done.
Exhausted and finally safe enough to let go, she was asleep within minutes.
He wasn’t.
He’d been up all night, but he was wired. Every time he closed his eyes, the horror returned—Benny’s knife, Enzo’s taunting lisp, Emily standing in the glare. It was going to take a long time before those images faded.
So he held her.
Not because he couldn’t let go—but because, right now, she needed the anchor.