Page 83 of Mission Shift

She had changed me, wrecked me in ways I couldn’t even process. And whatever this feeling was—this raw, brutal need tomake sure she got the life she deserved—it wasn’t going to go away. I would go to the ends of the earth for her. I’d burn down anything that stood in her way. And if she let me, I’d make her my queen. Because I wasn’t just falling for her; I was already gone. And I swore on every last breath I had that I would make things right for her.

Nik reached over and nudged me on the shoulder, drawing my attention back to him. “You, okay?”

“Yeah—”

“Actually, no. No, I’m not okay. You’re right. I’m so fucking gone for that woman, I can’t breathe.”

Nik chuckled and turned back to his keyboard.

“Then let’s get back to work.”

Several hours passed, and then abruptly, Nik froze, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. The steady tapping of keys, a noise that had filled the apartment for four days, was replaced by silence. His eyes grew dark, and his brow furrowed so deeply that I could tell whatever he’d just learned wasn’t something he wanted to utter out loud.

But finally he said quietly, “The guard I’ve been working on at the prison just accepted my payoff. He’s given me information on what happened to her while she was there.”

A chill slithered down my spine.

I straightened, the muscles in my shoulders locking up. “Say it.”

Nik hesitated—just a fraction of a second, but it was enough.

My stomach twisted. My pulse slowed to a thick drumbeat inside my skull.

Nik exhaled sharply. “Interrogation Chief Fedorov spent hours going HAM on her,” he said grimly. “Her screams echoed through the entire prison.”

The words hit me like a sledgehammer.

A roaring filled my ears. My breath stalled. My vision narrowed to a dark, suffocating tunnel.

Daria alone.

In pain.

Screaming.

The image tore through me, and white-hot rage ignited every nerve in my body.

I forced in a breath, but it did nothing to steady me. My hands fisted hard enough that my nails sliced into my palms, but I barely felt the pain.

She had saved me. She’d risked everything.

And because of that—because of me—she had been dragged back. Beaten. Broken. Left to suffer at the hands of monsters.

I swayed slightly, caught between fury and guilt so thick it clogged my throat.

Nik watched me carefully, reading every reaction. “She’s strong, Thorin,” he said, his tone calm but firm. “If she were dead, my informant would have said so.”

That didn’t help.

It didn’t erase the fact that they had hurt her. That they had tortured her. That I hadn’t been there to stop it.

A sick, twisting nausea coiled in my gut. The walls of Nik’s apartment suddenly felt too tight, too fucking suffocating.

I shoved back from the table and paced to the far side of the room. My body was coiled tight, and my breath came in short, uneven bursts.

I wanted blood.

I wanted to rip those men apart with my bare hands.

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