Lark
Dante glanced over his shoulder for what had to be the tenth time in the last five minutes. "You okay?"
She nodded, even though she wasn't. "I'm fine."
He slowed anyway. "Liar."
Despite everything, a tiny smile tugged at her lips. "You've been hanging around me too long."
"I've been hanging around you for three years,” he breathed. The words slipped out before he could stop them.
Lark looked at him. "Three years?"
He nodded. "I was assigned to your security detail the week after your twenty-second birthday."
She frowned. "You remember that?"
"I remember everything about you,” he said.
The quiet certainty in his voice made her chest tighten. "What color was the dress I wore on that birthday?"
He answered without hesitation. "Blue."
She blinked. "Navy blue."
He gave a faint smile. "It had silver embroidery around the sleeves."
She stared at him in disbelief. "You remember that?"
"I remember every dress you’ve ever worn. I’ve remembered every birthday, every time you smiled at me, and every time you laughed.”
Her heart skipped. "Dante?—"
"I shouldn't have told you that,” he whispered.
"No." She stepped closer to him. "I'm glad you did.
" For a moment, neither of them moved. The tunnel disappeared, and the danger had faded.
There was only the man standing in front of her.
He was the man who had spent years pretending not to care, and the one who had quietly protected her in every way he could.
She reached for his hand, and this time, he didn't hesitate.
Their fingers intertwined naturally as though they'd always belonged together.
A whistle echoed ahead, and Dante immediately released her hand and drew his pistol. Two figures emerged from the darkness—both wearing black tactical clothing and both carrying suppressed rifles. Lark froze.
The taller of the two lowered his weapon first. "Easy."
Dante pointed his gun at the guy. "Identify yourself."
The man smiled faintly. "I could ask you to do the same thing." Neither moved nor blinked until the second man stepped forward.
"We're not with Santos,” he said.
"That doesn't answer my question,” Dante insisted.
"It'll have to,” the first man said as he studied Dante carefully. "You've got the girl.”
Dante shifted slightly, putting himself in front of Lark again. "That's not your concern."
"It actually is,” the second man said.
Lark felt Dante tense beside her. "Why does she concern you?" he asked.
"Because half the people hunting her tonight don't work for Santos,” the first man said. “Somebody put a very expensive price on her head.”
Lark felt sick. "What?"
He looked directly at her. "You don't know?"
She shook her head. "No."
The man sighed. "Figures."
Dante never lowered his gun. "Who are you?"
"My name's Mason." He gestured toward his partner. "That's Cole." Neither name meant anything to Lark. "We're trying to stop a trafficking network."
Dante's expression didn't change. "Convenient story."
"It happens to be true." Mason reached slowly into a pocket as Dante's pistol tracked every movement. The man produced a badge. He wasn’t with the FBI or police. Lark couldn't make out the insignia, but Dante seemed able to.
His eyebrows lifted almost imperceptibly. "STARR."
Mason nodded. "So you've heard of us."
"A little,” Dante said.
Lark looked between them. "What is STARR?"
"This is a very bad place to end up on our radar." A new voice answered from behind them. Everyone spun around as a man stepped from the shadows with four more armed men at his back. His pistol remained lowered, and his eyes immediately found Lark. Relief flashed across his face before disappearing beneath professional calm. She was sure that she recognized him from her father’s house earlier. He claimed to be one of her father’s investors.
"Looks like we finally caught up to you guys,” the man said.
Dante's jaw tightened. "You know them?"
Rocco nodded toward Mason. "They're on my team."
Lark frowned. "Your team?"
Rocco looked at her. "I wasn't exactly honest about who I was earlier when we were introduced."
"No kidding," Dante muttered.
"My name really is Rocco."
"So is Moretti a fake name?" Dante asked.
"Yes,” Rocco said.
She folded her arms over her chest. "Seems I've met a lot of liars tonight."
Something softened in Rocco's expression. "I'm sorry that I had to deceive you." The sincerity caught her off guard because, unlike her father and everyone else in her life, he actually seemed to mean it.
“I’m here to help you, Lark,” Rocco assured.
Dante stepped closer to her. "Help her how?" he asked.
Rocco's expression became serious again. "We need to get you out of Chicago tonight."
Lark looked between the two men. "You make it sound so easy."
"It won't be,” Rocco said.
Mason checked his radio. "The compound's falling."
One of the operators shouted over the radio. "Santos escaped." Dante cursed under his breath. Her father was alive, which meant he'd come after her.
Rocco seemed to read her thoughts. "He'll hunt you."
"I know,” Lark breathed.
"He'll never stop,” Dante warned.
"I know,” Lark said again, this time with a little more heat. She wrapped her arms around herself. "So what am I supposed to do?" Silence settled over the group.
Dante answered first. “We keep running." She looked at him. "He doesn't get to decide the rest of your life anymore." Emotion clogged her throat because, for the first time, someone wasn't telling her where she belonged. Dante was asking her to choose, and she'd never had a choice before—not once.
"What if I don't know how to do this?” she asked.
Dante smiled gently. "We'll figure it out."
"We?" she questioned.
He didn't hesitate. "If you'll let me help you, yes.” Her heart fluttered.
Before she could answer, Rocco spoke quietly. "You won't have to do it alone."
Lark turned toward him and noticed that his expression was steady. "I made a promise tonight," he said.
"What promise?" Lark asked.
"That I wasn't leaving you behind,” Rocco said.
She searched his face and found no pity there—only determination.
She looked back at Dante, and he didn't seem threatened.
If anything, he looked grateful, and the realization surprised her.
These two men barely knew each other, yet both had risked everything to get her out.
A loud explosion thundered through the tunnel behind them, and dust rained from the ceiling.
One of the operators looked back at Rocco. "We've got movement."
Another nodded. "Multiple hostiles."
Rocco looked at Dante. "We need to move."
Dante answered without hesitation. "Together.
" The two men exchanged a brief nod as Lark stood between them.
They started toward the river exit, and she realized something she never would have believed twenty-four hours earlier.
For the first time in her life, she wasn't facing the darkness alone, and somewhere deep inside, despite the terror, a tiny spark of hope began to grow.
Cold air slapped her face the second they emerged from the tunnel, and for one glorious heartbeat, Lark simply stood there.
The Chicago River stretched before her, black and shimmering beneath the city lights.
Barges drifted lazily in the distance while traffic hummed across the bridges overhead.
She'd seen the skyline from her bedroom balcony a thousand times, but never like this—never without iron gates or guards.
She took a slow, shaky breath. "I'm outside." The words barely escaped her lips when Dante looked at her, confusion crossing his face.
"What?" he asked.
"I'm—" She laughed, though tears blurred her vision.
"I'm outside." His expression softened. It was the first time in nearly four years that she'd stepped beyond the Santos estate without her father orchestrating every second of her life.
Freedom. It smelled like river water and diesel fuel, but it was beautiful.
She closed her eyes for the briefest moment before Dante grabbed her arm.
"Down!" he shouted. He yanked her behind a stack of shipping pallets as a rifle cracked in the distance. Concrete exploded where she'd been standing.
One of the STARR operators shouted, "Sniper!" The peaceful moment evaporated as another round ricocheted off the dock. Rocco dropped behind the pallets beside them, already scanning the rooftops.
"It’s coming from the East warehouse,” he said.
A second operator nodded. "Third floor." The sniper fired again, and everyone stayed down. Lark's heart hammered against her ribs. She looked between Dante and Rocco and noticed that neither man appeared panicked. In fact, they were dangerously calm.
"You two do this a lot?" she whispered.
Rocco smirked. "I'd rather not answer that question."
Dante didn't even glance away from the warehouse.
"I'd rather never do this again, if that counts.
" Another shot rang out, and wood splintered inches above their heads.
Lark flinched instinctively. Without thinking, Dante reached over and covered the back of her head with his hand, protecting her and shielding her from flying debris.
He didn't even realize he'd done it, but she noticed.
Rocco seemed to notice too. Their eyes met for a brief second, and something unspoken passed between the two men before Rocco looked away.
"We need to move,” Rocco said.
One of the operators shouted over the radio. "We don’t have a clear shot."
"They're pinning us in place,” another shouted.
Rocco frowned. "They're not trying to kill us." Everyone looked at him as though he had lost his mind. "They're trying to slow us down,” he said.
Lark's stomach twisted. "So someone else can catch up to us."
"Exactly,” Rocco said.
The riverbank offered almost no cover. Old warehouses lined one side of the bank as dark water stretched across the other side. It was a killing zone. Dante crouched beside her.
"When I say run, I want you to run,” he ordered. She nodded. "Don't stop for anyone or anything."
"What about you?" she asked.
"I'll be behind you.” He promised.
Rocco shook his head. "No."
Dante looked over at him. "I'm taking point."
"You stay with her,” Rocco insisted. The words surprised Lark. "If that sniper shifts targets, he'll go after whoever looks like the leader."
"I don't care,” Dante said.
"I know you don’t.” Rocco smiled faintly.
"That's why you're staying with Lark,” he said.
Dante opened his mouth to argue, and then closed it.
He knew Rocco was right. Lark looked between them.
Neither man was trying to outdo the other.
Neither was measuring who got to protect her.
They were simply figuring out how to keep her alive.
It was strange because she'd grown up watching men compete for power and watching them lie, manipulate, and use one another to get what they wanted.
But these two were different. They worked together without needing to dominate each other, and she found herself trusting them more with every passing minute.
The realization scared her almost as much as the bullets.
"Go!" Rocco shouted as he burst from cover first. The operators followed, laying down suppressing fire toward the warehouse.
Dante grabbed Lark's hand. "Run,” he shouted. She did. Her boots pounded across cracked concrete as adrenaline drowned out exhaustion. Halfway across the dock, a black SUV screeched around the corner, then another, followed by a third. All three blocked the road leading away from the river. Doors flew open and armed men poured out. She could tell immediately that they weren’t her father’s guards. These men wore matching tactical gear.
One stepped forward calmly. He wasn't carrying his rifle. Instead, he raised one hand. "Lark Santos." She froze, and Dante immediately stepped in front of her.
"Keep walking," he growled.
The man ignored him. "We're not here to hurt you."
Lark laughed bitterly. "I've heard that before."
"I'm serious,” the man shouted.
"So am I,” Lark countered.
The stranger sighed. "Your father accepted my boss’s payment."
Every muscle in her body locked because she had a pretty good idea of what he was saying. "What?"
"You're coming with us,” he insisted.
"No, I’m not,” she shouted.
He tilted his head. "You don't seem to understand."
"I understand perfectly,” she spat.
Dante's voice became lethal. "Take one more step, and you’re dead."
The man actually smiled. "You must be Dante." Something about the way he said his name made Lark's blood run cold. "You've become inconvenient."
Rocco appeared beside them, pistol trained on the newcomers. "So have you," he shouted.
The stranger looked toward him. "Agent Bertoni."
Rocco's expression didn't change. “I seem to be at a disadvantage, since you know my name and I don’t know yours."
"I know everyone involved in this game,” the man said as his smile widened. "You've all been chasing the wrong enemy."
Silence settled over the dock. "What are you talking about?" Rocco asked.
"Rafael Santos doesn't run this operation anymore,” the man said.
Lark felt the world tilt beneath her. "What?"
The man looked directly at her. "Your father sold something far more valuable than drugs, Lark.
" His gaze hardened. "And now people much more dangerous than Rafael Santos want what belongs to them.
" Before anyone could respond, a deafening roar echoed overhead.
Everyone instinctively looked up as a helicopter swept low over the river, its spotlight flooding the docks with blinding white light.
The man smiled. "Looks like our ride's here."
Dante's grip tightened around Lark's hand, and Rocco raised his weapon.
The operators spread into defensive positions, and all Lark could do was stare at the helicopter descending toward them.
Her freedom had lasted less than fifteen minutes, and somehow, she had just become even more valuable than she'd been while inside her father's prison.