Blaidd
My assistant confirmed the reservation for the restaurant. This should have pleased me, but my stomach churned. I stood up and exhaled a long breath, rubbing my belly. I rotated my head to ease the tension in my neck and shoulder muscles.
You’re nervous, Fenrir said.
I ignored him. I’d never been nervous in my life.
The ring. Do you think she will like it? he piped up again.
She’s five months pregnant. She’ll have no choice but to like it.
So why are you nervous? Why make it harder for yourself by asking her?
He knew why. And fuck him, because I wouldn’t admit it.
I’m not nervous. I’m excited because it’s Friday.
The sex was amazing any day of the week, but Friday nights made me feral. I couldn’t blame Lielit for this one.
I returned to my desk and opened the drawer, reaching for the painkillers. The sudden, dull throb in my head needed to vanish.
It’s called a tension headache, Fenrir purred.
I cracked open a bottle of water when my phone lit up.
Anji.
She’d never call me, unless—
I grabbed the phone.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” I snapped.
“Lielit went to the plant and she didn’t come back,” she blurted out. “So I called the plant manager, and he found the guard unconscious in the car park. The driver and Lielit are gone. The car is still at the plant.”
The low rumble in my chest worked its way to my throat.
“Leave it with me,” I said, standing up.
My mind went blank for a second before the image of Lielit and our children hit me like a ton of bricks. Fenrir didn’t howl in pain—he growled with rage.
His voice fractured, his words breaking apart as he tried to force me to shift, snapping me out of my daze.
Stop it. We have a tracker inside her, remember?
Before she was placed in the shipping container, I’d had the latest body-powered tracking chip implanted in her. Deep within my subconscious, I’d always known it would come to this. Back then, I thought that if she ever ran from me, I’d have the upper hand.
Fenrir ranted about the babies, Bouda, Lielit—and the more noise that erupted inside my head, the more the slow-simmering fury burned like whip lashes across my body. I felt the blood drain from my face as sweat began to seep from my pores.
Nothing rash.
Nothing vicious.
Nothing but calm.
Until we had Lielit.
I didn’t move until Fenrir understood my words. Even though it ate away at valuable time, I needed to rein him in. I couldn’t risk exposing him if he lost control and became a giant, head-chomping psycho.
The gala had been a calculated risk. One I needed to take before our children were born. I’d needed to see who had the gall to attempt an attack on me.
I logged into the Crysilis program and confirmed a location before making a series of calls. The driver could be dead—or bought—but it was essential that all routes off the mainland were cut off.
We stared at the flashing red dot marking where Lielit was being held.
She might have the balls to leave me, but she’d never leave her family.
My phone screen lit up.
Unknown number: It’s in your best interest to leave the current PM alone.
The current PM. I had a few under my belt, but the way he worded it could mean an external organisation that already controlled David.
Me: Or?
Unknown number: Sometimes people fling the term around. A fate worse than death. They’d suffer every second of every day until their hearts stop beating. You of all people should know the predilections of others.
There were many different varieties of beasts that lived inside humans, and I’d uncovered every single one of them over the years. I understood exactly what he meant, and so did Fenrir.
He didn’t rage.
He went silent—settling in my chest like a splintered shard of ice, waiting.
Me: Where is she?
I played along.
Unknown number: I’ll need all the materials first—electronic and paper versions. All of it.
Me: Where and when?
Unknown number: You’re going to roll over? Just like that?
I didn’t respond. Instead, I checked my email notifications. Lielit’s driver had been found on the road to Calais—no doubt attempting to board a ship bound for France.
Me: Where and when?
Unknown number: I’ll be in touch.
Of course, he would. There were seven renowned fixers in the UK. It wouldn’t take long to find out which one he was.
There were two who would go to any lengths to collect their fee. One of them was an ex-MI5 agent.
I glanced back at the flashing pinpoint marking Lielit’s location. If she were subjected to a body scan, I could lose her.
Extraction first. Then carnage.
Fenrir went from ice to fire as heat spread across my chest. My hand lingered over my heart for a brief moment before I rushed out of my office.
They took my heart.
They took my flesh and blood from me.
No one would get out of this alive.
?
?
?
The fixer, Anthony Hanson, was spectacularly sold out for a mere ￡750k. However, when you tug on a strand of thread, the unravelling can get messy. His enjoyment of what he deemed my downfall would extend his life—but not in the way he hoped would benefit him.
No matter what he says or does, you do not kill him under any circumstances, I reminded Fenrir as I dumped two sets of spare clothing by the side of the building.
I’d parked my car four blocks away from the abandoned warehouse.
It should have been a den for junkies. The building was condemned and awaiting redevelopment.
We walked around the building, listening and cataloguing the faint speech patterns. There were four people on the ground floor. I glanced at the pipe before scaling it until I reached the roof. There was a fifth man upstairs, but he didn’t stay long after I heard a toilet flush.
A condemned building shouldn’t have a water supply—but I could investigate the building’s owner later.
I strained to listen for Lielit or Bouda, but there was nothing. Then I heard it.
Metal against metal.
Three taps at a time.