Chapter 15 #4
Rage hits me so hard that the edges of my vision blur. It's red, sharp, and immediate. My jaw hurts from clenching it to keep my rage in check. I almost lose my balance, but I manage to regain my composure just in time.
Bjorn's fingers dig into my shoulder, yanking me back, as if he could keep me from completely surrendering to the moment.
"Brother," he says, his voice low but strong.
"Look at me." It takes work, but I raise my head.
I swallow hard, pushing past the pain in my throat and getting air back into my lungs in a way that feels like control.
"I want her in my arms NOW," I growl loudly.
Bjorn nods once, without thinking. "Then we go into every room until she's in your arms." My hand rests fully on the harness, gripping it more tightly. This makes me feel more grounded in the fact that this is real, that she was here, and that she is still here.
"Hold on for me, Claire," I say in a low voice, my throat tight with everything I'm forcing into it. "I'm almost there."
I let it go. Take a deep breath. And when I look back at the others, something has changed. "Where is the next door?" I ask, my voice a bit lower now but more pointed, cutting straight to the heart of the matter.
Leif immediately checks his scanner, then begins moving and recalculating his route.
Soren points forward, sharp and clear. Ivar and Rurik roll their shoulders and crack their knuckles, as if they've been waiting for the time when they don't have to hold back anymore.
Stellan whispers something that I can't hear, but I don't need to hear it to know that it's meant to calm and center.
And me, I have purpose. Claire is waiting somewhere up ahead, past another hallway, another door, and another layer of whatever they built to keep her hidden. And I won't let anything get in the way of us anymore. I push the broken clipboard aside, hold my weapon tighter, and move forward.
"Move," I growl, the word low and final. The team surges with me, and the movement starts up again, faster and sharper this time. The hallway ahead of me is long, humming with fluorescent lights and doors on either side. The metallic scent of disinfectant is thick in the air.
But something, instinct, gravity, or soul, pulls me left. “Second door,” I say.
The agents pause, but my brothers don’t. We move together, silent and lethal. My heart is pounding, but not from fear. Bjorn gestures to the SWAT team, who line up, two to each side.
I step forward. “No flashbang,” I say. My voice is low and dangerous. “We do this clean.”
One of the federal agents hesitates. “Halvorsen, we need to.”
“This is MY woman.” I turn and burn him alive with my stare. “You will not blind her. You will open that door, and you will stand back.”
He nods once, jaw tight. Soren moves in with the lock override device Bjorn designed years ago, military-grade tech no civilian should ever have access to. It clicks. Beeps. Turns green. My entire body goes weightless. The door swings inward.
And my world stops.
She is strapped to a medical table, secured, like a precious piece of machinery. Her wrists are in soft cuffs. Ankles restrained. Her tank top stretched tight across her swollen breasts, soaked through with leaking milk. A harness still clipped to the pump, tubes trailing like grotesque vines.
Her skin is pale. Her lips parted. Her hair is damp against her cheeks. Her breaths are shallow from sedation. And she’s heavier, fuller, her body having been inflated by God knows what.
Not an ounce of her looks like the woman I left in our bed that morning. But she’s still her. My Claire. Something shatters in my chest. I stumble toward her. My knees hit the side of the table, and my hands shake so hard I nearly miss the buckle on her wrist.
“Claire,” I breathe. “Sweetheart… I’m here. I’m here now.” Her eyelids flutter. Her lips tremble around a broken sound.
“E… rik?” It detonates inside me. I undo the straps quickly, carefully, and reverently. My hands hover over her arms, terrified of hurting her. I starve to hold her.
She whimpers when I unclip the harness. Her breasts, huge, heavy, and painfully distended, spill free and immediately leak milk down her ribs.
I choke on air. It’s grief and rage. I’m in awe at the strength she must have held on to survive this.
“I’m s-sorry, baby,” my voice chokes up, tucking a towel beneath her. “So sorry, so truly sorry.”
Her head rolls weakly. “Erik…”
“I know, sweetheart. ” I cradle her face in both hands. “I’m here now, and I swear to you, I’m never ever letting you go.”
Her breath hitches, an emotional inhale. I lean down, pressing my forehead to hers.
“You’re safe,” I promise. “And I will kill whoever tries to take you from me again.”
My breath shakes with something I haven’t felt since combat, not anger, but a type of violence that is strong enough to level kingdoms.
Behind me, the room fills with agents clearing corners and brothers cursing under their breaths, but none of it touches the moment.
There is only her. And the sound of her crying softly as consciousness flickers.
“Erik?” she whispers. “I… I thought…” Her throat closes. Her face crumples.
“I know,” I murmur. “I know, baby. I’m so sorry it took this long.”
Her hand reaches for me, weak and trembling. I catch it instantly. “Don’t let go,” she breathes.
“I won’t,” I vow. “Not ever again.” I slide an arm beneath her back and another under her legs. She’s soft and heavy and limp from sedation. Her head falls against my shoulder.
Every protective instinct inside me detonates. I lift her slowly, steadily, like she is glass. Her breasts spill milk into my shirt. I don’t care. All that matters is that she is in my arms.
Bjorn steps closer. “We need to move, brother. This place isn’t secure.”
“I know,” I say, tightening my hold on her. “But no one touches her but me.”
Her breath warms my neck as she fades back under the sedative still in her bloodstream. I kiss her temple.
“We’re going to the hospital, little one,” I whisper. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”
I turn toward the exit, cradling her body against mine. The agents part for me. The brothers follow behind like a wall of vengeance.
And as I carry Claire out of the facility that stole three months of her life, months of her dignity, months of her strength, I make a silent vow that the entire world will feel what I felt in this room before I am done.