32. Lorcan
Lorcan
The cold floorboard is the first thing that registers.
I blink, my vision blurry, my mouth tastes bad. The dim light of the corridor filters through my eyelashes. For a second, my brain doesn't know where the hell I am. I try to sit up, my muscles screaming in protest, my bruised collarbone throbbing.
Something slides off my chest.
I catch it before it hits the floor. It’s my tailored black wool blazer. It’s clean, smelling faintly of her vanilla soap, folded neatly.
Atara.
The memories hit me.
"Atara?" I rasp, my throat dry.
The corridor is dead silent. I push myself up, my knees cracking. I drape the blazer over my arm, my eyes scanning the empty hallway. "Atara!"
Nothing.
A cold, heavy knot begins to tighten in my stomach. I drop the jacket on the floor and sprint toward the safe room down the hall. I kick the door open, my hand instinctively reaching for the holster at my hip.
Apart from Maeve, deeply asleep, the bed is empty. The sheets are pulled tight, untouched.
"Fucking hell," I growl.
I turn on my heel and charge down the stairs.
"Kieran!" I roar, my voice echoing off the concrete walls. "Echo! Get the fuck in here!"
The double steel doors hiss open. Kieran bursts in, his arm wrapped in a fresh white bandage, his face pale and soot-covered. Echo is right behind him, his radio glued to his ear.
"Boss?" Kieran asks, his eyes wide. "What’s wrong? You’re supposed to be resting."
"Where is she?" I demand, stepping into his space, my chest heaving. "Where is Atara?"
Kieran blinks, looking at Echo, then back at me. "She... she was checking on you, boss. She went down the corridor after we finished clearing the ballroom. We thought she was with you."
"She’s not here," I say, my voice dropping into a register that makes Kieran step back. "She’s not anywhere. Check the gate logs. Now."
Echo’s fingers fly across the security terminal, tapping the keys with a frantic speed. The screen flashes with the log entries for the North Gate, the South Gate, and the service exits.
"Log forty-two," Echo whispers, his voice losing all its strength. "Forty minutes ago. The North Gate sensor tripped. It was overridden with a master bypass code."
"Bypass?" I slam my fist onto the console. The plastic casing cracks under the impact, a sharp sting running up my arm.
She left.
On foot.
In the middle of the night.
The air in the room suddenly feels like lead. I can't breathe. My brain is throwing out equations, strategies, security protocols, and every single one of them ends in a dead end. Why would she leave? Why would she walk out of the safest place in the city after saving my daughter?
And then the realization hits me.
I love her.
It’s not the obsession. It’s not the sick, dominant need to own her or keep her locked in a room where she can only look at me.
I love the way her mouth moves when she’s telling me I’m an idiot.
I love the way her brain works faster than mine.
I love the way she stood in front of my daughter with a knife, ready to die for a kid she barely knew.
And now she’s gone.
"Boss," Kieran says, his hand on my shoulder. "We’ll find her. I’ll get the cars—"
"Shut the fuck up!" I scream, wrenching my shoulder away.
The fury is total. It’s a hot, blinding wave that sweeps through my veins, pushing out the cold terror. I turn and march out of the ballroom, my boots slamming against the tile. The compound is already moving, my men scrambling to get out of my path as I storm through the main hall.
One of the new perimeter guards, a guy named Ryan, is standing near the foyer, looking confused.
"You," I growl, grabbing him by the front of his tactical vest. I lift him off his feet, slamming his back against the stone pillar. The stone chips under his weight, a sharp crack echoing through the high ceiling. "Were you at the North gate forty minutes ago?"
"B-boss," he gasps, his hands clawing at my wrists. "I didn't see anything! The sensor didn't trip on my screen!"
"It bypassed!" I roar, my face inches from his, my spit hitting his cheek. "You have eyes! You have a fucking rifle! Did you look at the cameras?"
"I was... I was checking the perimeter fence on the east side—"
I don't let him finish. I drive my fist into his jaw. The bone breaks with a dry, splintering sound, and he goes down like a sack of coal, blood spraying across the white marble floor. I don't even wait for him to hit the ground before I kick him in the ribs.
"Get him out of my sight!" I snarl at the two guards standing nearby. They scramble forward, dragging the bleeding guy away by his boots, their faces white with terror.
"Lorcan!" Kieran yells, running down the stairs. "Stop! You’re losing your mind! We have scouts on the road. We have the cameras on the strip tracking every vehicle that left the sector."
"She’s on foot, Kieran!" I shout, spinning around to face him. "She has no phone! She has no money! She’s wearing a red silk dress in the middle of the desert! How far could she get in forty minutes?"
My phone vibrates in my pocket.
The sound is loud in the silent hallway. Every head snaps toward me. I pull the phone out. Private Number.
I slide the screen open and press it to my ear. I don't say a word. I just listen to the ragged breathing on the other end.
"You really are a slow learner, Lorcan," Silas’s voice rasps. It’s wet, weak, but the malice is still there, vibrating through the speaker. "But I have to hand it to you, your new girl is very loyal. She came straight to the north gate. Didn't even bring a gun."
"Silas," I growl, my fingers tightening on the metal of the phone until my knuckles turn white. "If you touch her—"
"I’ve already touched her," Silas chuckles, the sound jagged. "She has a very stubborn jaw, Lorcan. Just like you. But she’s not as tough as she thinks. Neither is her little friend."
A muffled, choked-off gasp echoes in the background. It’s Atara.
"Lorcan, don't!" she screams, her voice thin and raspy. "Don't come! It’s a—"
The sound is cut off by a heavy, wet thud, followed by a sharp cry of pain. My chest seizes, my heart hammering a brutal, frantic rhythm against my ribs.
"Fifteen minutes, Lorcan," Silas says, his voice returning to a flat, cold whisper. "The old shipping terminal on the reservoir road. You know the one. Come alone. If I see a single SUV, or if I hear a drone in the air, I’ll peel her skin off while you’re still driving. Do you understand?"
"I’m coming," I say.
"Ten minutes now," Silas says. "Don't be late."
The line goes dead.
I stare at the blank screen, my breathing shallow and rapid. The reservoir road is eight miles out. In fifteen minutes, I’ll have to hit ninety on the dirt track just to clear the ridge.
"Echo, get the trackers on the line," Kieran says, reaching for his radio. "We’re deploying the mobile units—"
"No," I say, my voice quiet, flat, and absolute.
Kieran stops, his hand hovering over his belt. "Boss, you can't be serious. It’s Silas. He’s baiting you. He has a dozen men waiting in that warehouse. If you go alone, you’re a dead man."
"If I don't go alone, she dies," I say.
"We can flank them!" Kieran argues, his voice rising, his face flushed with frustration. "We can put Marcus on the ridge with a rifle! We can clear the perimeter before you even cross the threshold!"
"You don't understand, Kieran," I say, looking him straight in the eye. "Silas isn't playing a game of territory anymore. He’s playing a game of blood. He’s watching the road. If he sees a single headlight that isn't mine, he pulls the trigger."
"And if he kills you anyway?" Echo asks, stepping forward. "What happens to Maeve? What happens to the Syndicate?"
"The Syndicate is yours if I don't come back," I say.
I reach into the gun box on the table and pull out the customized Glock.
I check the clip, slide it back home with a heavy click, and tuck it into the small of my back.
"Kieran, stay with my daughter. If anyone tries to cross the gate, you put them in the dirt. "
"Lorcan, please," Kieran says, his voice cracking. "Let me come. Just as the driver. I’ll stay in the car."
"No," I say.
I walk past them, my boots heavy on the marble
The black Suburban we drove in is idling, the exhaust fumes filling the concrete space. I climb into the driver’s seat, slamming the door behind me.
Ten minutes.
I slam my foot on the gas. The tires scream against the concrete as the vehicle surges forward, kicking up a massive cloud of red dust as I barrel out onto the open road.
The engine roars, a mechanical beast eating up the miles, but all I can hear is the sound of her voice on the phone.
I'm coming, Kisa.
Hold on.