Alaric
Harold Tobin hadn’t ended up in my storage unit because of careful planning.
It was the result of a series of coincidences that worked to my advantage.
But as the saying goes, lightning doesn’t strike the same place twice.
Hence the obsessive research I’ve done throughout the day.
It started this morning. After dropping Lilith off at home, I headed out to scope the area around Fraser Robinson’s company—Steven’s dad—the one he founded and still runs as CEO.
With a black baseball cap pulled low and a plain sweatshirt and light jeans helping me pass unnoticed, I fell into step beside a pair of employees on their way into NewFra Cyber.
When they tapped their badges and the turnstiles unlocked, I slipped through with them, since security was too busy on their phones to look twice.
Then I broke away from the pair, crossed the lobby unnoticed, and slipped toward the stairwell like I belonged there.
From there, getting down to the parking garage was easy.
Pressed into a corner, phone in hand, pretending to browse through it, I noted that Fraser showed up alone, without a driver.
I also tracked the security cameras, mapping their angles and blind spots.
Naturally, I haven’t spent the entire day in the parking garage.
I’ve taken bathroom breaks, grabbed food every couple of hours, and slipped in and out of the building as easily as I did this morning. Each time I stepped outside, I slid my SIM card back into my phone.
Every time I’ve turned it on, it’s been the same. No texts or missed calls from Lilith.
And despite wanting to, despite obsessing over her, I haven’t reached out either.
Staying focused is critical to my task.
To saving Steven.
The kid who fell down the stairs. The one who could be dead before his thirteenth birthday unless I step in.
There’s no walking away from this.
Soon, I’ll be with Lilith. After I finish what I came here to do, which is kidnap him. The trials can wait until tomorrow.
Until then, I’m in the stairwell, SIM card out again, peeking through the glass in the door as I wait for Fraser.
He should be here any minute now.
Ah, there he is.
Hate rushes through my body as I watch him head to his car in a tailored charcoal overcoat, dark slacks, and polished leather shoes.
The bastard’s gait is confident. Chin held high. Shoulders pulled back. His brown hair is short and styled.
A smile plays on his lips, as if he didn’t send his kid to the hospital yesterday.
That can only mean one thing. He thinks he’s untouchable. Safe.
Men like him often are. Their wealth and status build walls upon walls around them. They do whatever they want, whenever they want, because that’s how the game is played.
Unfortunately for them, I don’t give a fuck about their walls or their games.
I care about human fucking decency.
Fraser’s about to learn that the hard way.
Still comfortable as hell, he climbs into his Mercedes and starts it. As soon as he does, I step into the parking garage, edge along the concrete wall, and make sure to stay inside the cameras’ blind spot.
Fraser doesn’t notice me approaching. He’s on his phone, laughing. He’s fucking laughing while his son is in the hospital.
The hand I have shoved in my sweatshirt pocket clenches around my syringe. My jaw works while I follow him.
When his Mercedes turns into the exit lane leading to the security gates—another blind spot—I force my facial muscles to relax. Fill my lungs with air.
It’s showtime.
“Hey.” I come out of the shadows, rapping on his driver’s side window. “Sir.”
The asshole’s expression twists with disgust, his lips mouthing, I’ll call you back to whoever’s on the phone.
Then he makes the fatal mistake of pressing the brakes and lowering the window. “What?”
“Sorry to bother you.”
He grumbles. I ignore him.
“I just came back from a meeting and can’t find my car.”
At that, his mouth stretches into a wide, obnoxious grin. “A meeting?”
“Yes, I’m here to discuss switching security companies.”
“Is that so?” His eyes light up as if he isn’t drowning in money already. Disgusting.
I nod. “It went well, too, but man, I wish I’d written down where I parked. This place is huge, you know?”
“You bet I do.” A repulsive laugh. “I built it.” He offers me his hand. “Fraser Robinson, founder and CEO of NewFra Cyber.”
“Oh.” While I can’t fake a smile like Fraser, I can fake awe. Eyebrows raised, I shake his hand, then take mine back. “I’m so sorry to bother you. I’ll just go ahead and continue—”
“Nonsense, get inside.” Mother of all idiots, he’s as predictable as he is repulsive. “I’ll drive you around. You’ll be out of here in no time.”
“No, no, I couldn’t.” But the death grip on my syringe says, yes, I absolutely could. “You must be busy. I’ll be fine.”
“Never too busy for a client.” Click and the doors are unlocked.
“Phew,” I sigh, as if relieved. “Thanks.”
“You’ll find out soon that at NewFra Cyber, we don’t just promise personal attention, we deliver.”
When he finishes his practiced speech, he rolls up his window and jerks his chin toward the passenger side, signaling for me to get in.
“So, hey,” Fraser says once I slide into my seat and shut the door. “What did you say your name was?”
“I didn’t.”
My hand snaps around one side of his neck. The needle of my syringe sinks deep into the other side.
“What the fuck?” He grabs for my wrist, a feeble attempt to fight me off. “Security! Security!”
They can’t hear him scream. We both know his top-of-the-line Mercedes is built like a vault.
“No one’s coming for you. Now shut up and take it.” I smirk, leaning into him. “Before you do, though, there’s something I need to tell you.”
“What?” he squeaks, the pathetic fuck.
“This is for Steven.” I press the plunger.
“What did the little prick say?” The drug acts fast, already slurring Fraser’s speech. “Whatever it was, ’s a lie.” His eyelids grow heavy. “Heeee’s a liar. Always hassss been.”
“He hasn’t said a damn thing,” I growl while casting glances around the parking garage. “His injuries told me everything I needed to know.”
Same as hers.
Memories of a bleeding, scared, and wounded Lilith slam into me. The reminder of how I almost lost her sends a fresh jolt of red-hot hate through me.
Somehow, I manage to swallow it down.
If I lose my ever-loving mind, I’ll fuck up.
Fucking up will end with me leaving this parking garage in cuffs.
That means being separated from Lilith for years, if not a lifetime.
Never.
“And injuries”—I return my attention to the douchebag and yank up the handbrake—“don’t lie. Ever.”
“You’ll never get away with this.”
“Yes, I will.” I pull out the syringe, cap it, and shove it into my sweatshirt pocket. “Because once I click this…”
Since this isn’t the first luxury car I’ve been in, I swipe through the display, looking for…
This.
The moment I press the button, the glass darkens just enough to obscure the interior. Anyone outside will see nothing but a silhouette as I drive past, cameras included.
“You’re mine,” I say to the knocked-out Fraser. “No one’s coming to save you. No one.”