Lark #2
Dante wrapped his arms around her body. “Not possible, baby,” he assured.
Rocco kissed her shoulder. “He’s right, you know,” he growled.
“You belong to us now, honey. There’s no walking away from any of this now.
You’re ours, Lark.” Hearing them say that did strange things to her heart—things that she was sure that she’d never understand, and maybe she didn’t need to.
Because they were right—she belonged to them both now, and there wasn’t any other place she’d want to be, other than right between her two sexy alphas.
Morning sunlight filtered through the lace curtains, painting soft golden lines across the bedroom floor. Lark woke slowly. For the first time in as long as she could remember, she didn't wake with panic clawing at her chest. Instead, she woke warm and safe.
She smiled before she even opened her eyes.
A steady heartbeat rested beneath her cheek, and another warm hand remained loosely intertwined with hers.
She blinked against the morning light. Dante still slept beside her, one arm draped protectively around her waist. Across from them, Rocco had already woken, though he hadn't moved.
He was watching the sunrise through the bedroom window, his expression thoughtful until he noticed she was awake.
"Morning.” His voice was barely above a whisper.
She smiled. "Morning." Neither man rushed to fill the silence.
They simply looked at her. Last night had changed everything—not because of passion, but because of trust. There hadn't been expectations or pressure—only promises.
Promises that she would always have a choice and promises that neither man would ever ask her to become someone she wasn't. For the first time in her life, love hadn't felt like a cage. It had felt like freedom.
"You okay?" Dante's sleepy voice pulled her from her thoughts.
She looked up to find him watching her. "I think that I’m happier than I know what to do with.” She laughed softly.
He smiled. "I was hoping you'd say that."
Rocco stood and stretched. "I hate ruining the moment." The smile disappeared from all their faces. "But we have work to do." Reality returned—Keller, the ledger, her mother, and the names Rafael had died protecting.
Lark sat up slowly. She hadn't cried when Rafael fell. There hadn't been time, but now, the grief settled quietly over her. "He saved us,” she said.
Neither man tried to soften the truth. "Yes," Dante said. "He did."
She swallowed hard. "I don't know how to feel about that."
"You don't have to decide today," Rocco replied.
"Or tomorrow,” Dante added.
"You get as much time as you need,” Rocco said. She nodded gratefully.
“Come on,” Dante said, “we can watch Rocco make us breakfast again. I’m starving.” Lark giggled and let them pull her out of bed.
Within an hour, the three of them sat around the kitchen table. Isabella's journal lay open beside Rafael's bloodstained note. Rocco unfolded the paper he'd carried from the church. "I wanted to wait until we were alone." He slid it across the table.
Lark frowned. "It's just names."
"No." He tapped the first column. "It's a list of Keller's people."
Dante's expression hardened. "Inside STARR?"
"Yes, and other agencies,” Rocco said. Lark slowly scanned the page, and one name near the bottom caught her attention.
"Wait." She looked closer. "I know this one."
Rocco looked up immediately. "How?"
"My father hated him,” Lark said. She pointed at the name. "Victor Hale. He said Hale was ambitious." She paused. "And dangerous."
Rocco reached for his phone. "I know that name." His fingers moved quickly over the screen before he suddenly stopped. "Damn."
"What?" Dante asked.
"Hale isn't just an agent,” Rocco said as he looked at Dante. "He's the Deputy Director of STARR."
Dante leaned back in his chair. "If Keller owns the deputy director, he knows every operation, every safe house, and every extraction."
Lark's stomach tightened. "What about this cabin?”
Rocco nodded grimly. "It may already be compromised." Almost as if the universe had been waiting for him to say the words, a vehicle door slammed outside, and all three of them froze. Rocco quietly stood and moved toward the front window without making a sound.
His expression darkened. "They found us."
"How many?" Dante asked.
Rocco counted silently. "Eight."
He looked again. "No, twelve."
Lark's pulse quickened. "Keller?"
"I don't know,” Rocco said.
Dante stepped beside him. "Black SUVs and tactical gear."
"Definitely not local law enforcement,” Rocco said, looking around the cabin. "We can't stay."
Lark reached for Isabella's journal. "I've got it."
Dante picked up the key Rafael had given her. "I've got this." Rocco checked his pistol, and then he looked at her as she stood between them. Lark knew that fear still lingered in her eyes, but it no longer controlled her.
She squared her shoulders before either man could speak.
"Don't." They both paused. "I know." A small smile touched her lips.
"You're going to tell me to stay behind you both.
" Neither answered as she walked over and slipped her hands into theirs.
One hand found Dante, and the other found Rocco. "We go together."
Rocco smiled despite the danger outside. "Together."
Dante squeezed her hand. "Always."
A loud voice boomed through a bullhorn outside the cabin. "Lark Santos!" The three of them exchanged a look as the voice continued. "We know you're in there."
Rocco recognized it immediately, and his blood ran cold.
He looked at Dante. "It's Hale." The deputy director and the man Rafael had exposed, which meant Keller hadn't just come for the ledger, he had come to erase every witness who could destroy his empire.
And Lark knew right then and there that the final battle had just begun.
The pounding on the cabin door never came.
Instead, there was only silence. It was the kind of quiet that made the kind that made the hairs on the back of Lark's neck stand up.
She crouched beneath the front window while Rocco peered through a narrow gap in the curtains.
Dante covered the back door, his pistol raised, while listening for movement in the woods.
They counted twelve men, and she was pretty sure that the three of them were trapped in the small cabin.
"What are they waiting for?" she whispered.
Rocco never took his eyes off the tree line. "They're professionals, and they're waiting for us to make the first mistake."
A crackle erupted from a loudspeaker outside. "Lark." Victor Hale's voice carried easily through the quiet mountains. "I know you're listening."
She looked toward the front door. "Don't answer," Dante said.
"I wasn't planning to,” Lark said.
"I'd hoped we'd meet under better circumstances," Hale continued. "Unfortunately, Adrian Keller is not a patient man."
Rocco snorted. "That's the understatement of the century."
"You have something that doesn't belong to you." Lark instinctively tightened her grip on Isabella's journal.
"It belonged to my mother," she muttered. "So, it belongs to me."
Hale's voice remained maddeningly calm. "Come outside, Miss Santos."
"No,” she breathed. The word left her mouth before she even realized she'd spoken.
Dante looked over his shoulder and smiled. "Good answer."
Gunfire never came as she expected it to.
Instead, Hale spoke again. "I know about Sofia.
" Every muscle in Dante's body locked. Lark looked toward him and saw that his face had gone completely still.
His mask was back in place. It was the same expression he'd worn inside the Santos mansion whenever Rafael entered the room.
"What did you say?" Dante asked.
"You heard me." Hale's voice held the confidence of a man who believed he'd already won. "She's alive." Rocco quietly cursed.
Dante stepped toward the front door. "Don't."
Lark caught his arm before he could take another step. "He wants you to be angry because angry people do stupid things."
"I don't care,” Dante said.
"I do,” Lark breathed. He looked down at her hand on his arm. "I can't lose you.” The words stopped him, not because she'd asked, but because she'd admitted what he meant to her.
His shoulders slowly relaxed. "Okay."
Rocco unfolded the county map across the kitchen table. "If Hale knows about Sofia, then he knows where she is," Rocco said.
"Probably,” Dante agreed.