CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
Hours later we are sitting in the office going over files.
The knock on the office door isn’t loud. It doesn’t need to be.
Montgomery and Shoomaker both turn before the second rap even lands—like men trained to react before thought ever catches up.
And somehow, I already know.
Before the door opens.
Before the shadow steps inside.
Before the operative crosses the room, hands over another file without a word, and disappears again.
I know something is wrong.
Shoomaker flips it open. Scans. Then he goes still.
His jaw clenches so tight I hear his teeth grind.
He passes the sheet to Montgomery but doesn’t say anything. He just looks at me.
“Shaimez has requested a private meeting,” Montgomery reads aloud, his voice low, unreadable. “He wants her alone. One-on-one. Midnight. No handlers. No buyers. Not even the Warden.”
I don’t move.
I let the silence settle in like dust.
Shoomaker’s hands curl into fists. “It’s a test,” he mutters. “He wants to see if she’s still part of the merchandise. If she’s still…available.”
My throat is dry. “Then what do we do?”
Shoomaker turns and moves without a word to the black velvet box on the table.
He opens it and pulls out a ring.
Delicate. Intertwined gold and diamond bands, woven together in a soft twist. Elegant without being loud—sparkle catching the light just enough to feel intentional. Designed to look effortless, like it carries a meaning you’re not supposed to fully explain.
“What is that?” I ask, even though I already know.
“A message,” he says, stepping forward. “To him. To everyone in fact.”
He takes my hand gently—so gently I almost can’t reconcile it with the man who’d shoved me against a wall just hours ago—and slides the ring onto my finger.
A perfect fit.
“You’re not part of any ring anymore,” he says quietly. “You’re not for sale. You’re claimed.”
The word strikes me like a chord.
Claimed.
It should feel suffocating.
It doesn’t, though.
It feels like armor.
“This won’t stop him,” Montgomery says, arms crossed, voice tense. “If anything, it might provoke him. Make him want to challenge the Warden directly. He’ll want to see if she’s worth stealing.”
“I know,” Shoomaker replies. “Which is why I’m not letting her go in there alone.”
“But he asked for privacy,” Montgomery reminds.
Shoomaker doesn’t blink. “Then he’ll get what he asked for…and more.”
He turns back to me, something dark and possessive simmering behind his eyes.
“You wear that ring like you were born with it,” he says, voice lower now. “And you let him believe you’d bleed before you'd betray me.”
I raise my chin. “And if he tries to touch me?”
“I’ll put a bullet through his fucking throat,” he says without hesitation.
Montgomery looks between us, his jaw tightening. “You’re not thinking clearly.”
“No,” Shoomaker says. “I’m thinking exactly how a man would think who just realized someone wants to take what’s his.”
That word again.
His.
I look down at the ring.
Not a symbol of love.
A symbol of war.
A weapon, disguised as devotion.
I nod once. “Then let’s make him believe I’m yours.”
Shoomaker’s eyes burn with something raw. Dark. Unspoken.
He reaches for my chin and tips it up slightly. His thumb brushes the underside of my jaw—not possessive this time, but doting. “If he tries anything, anything at all, I’ll be in that room before his hands even get near you.”
I hold his gaze. “Good. Because I’m not just going to survive this meeting. I’m going to use it.”
Montgomery steps forward, jaw tight. “This is too dangerous. We don’t know what he really wants—”
“We know enough,” I interrupt, turning to him now. “We know he’s connected to Mr. Hirsh. We know he buys girls like me to destroy. And we know I’m the only one who can get close enough to bring him down.”
Montgomery doesn’t argue. He doesn’t have to.
He knows I am right.
And deep down, I think he hates it.
“Then you better be ready,” he says quietly. “Because if Shoomaker lets you go in there alone, and he touches you, I’ll kill him before the ‘Warden’ even moves.”
Shoomaker and Montgomery lock eyes—two wolves circling the same flame.
But I am done being the firewood.
I adjust the ring. Roll my shoulders. And lift my chin.
Midnight can’t come soon enough.