Page 58 of Silence and Surrender

My earpiece had been knocked out sometime during the fire alarm. I pulled my phone from my pocket, Steele’s number dialing. Blood dripped onto the screen—my blood or the guards’, I wasn’t sure. Didn’t care.

“They took her.” The words felt like ground glass in my throat. “From the maintenance tunnels.”

“Fuck.” His voice was tight with tension. “I knew something was wrong when I lost your signal. What happened?”

“Some kind of gas in the tunnels. Rodger Ross. Multiple exits blocked.” I was moving as I spoke, heading for the nearest way out. Away from where I’d just held her, kissed her…lost her. “Armed security. Professional. They knew exactly what they were doing.”

“Cooper is already calling contacts. I’m twenty minutes out. Stay put—”

“Like hell.”

“Colton.” Resolve was thick in his voice. “You’re in no shape to—”

“They have her.” Everything in me screamed to move, to chase, to tear London apart until I found her. Until I could tell her all the things I should have said before. Before I’d lost control. Before I’d let passion override protection. Before I’d failed her so completely. “Because I wasn’t fast enough. Wasn’t strong enough.”

“And getting yourself killed won’t help her.” Keys clinked on his end. “Think. What did you see? What did you hear?”

I forced myself to focus past the rage and fear. Past the memory of her falling, of blood in my mouth, of regret. Past her last word—my name, soft and frightened in a way Isabella Delacroix should never sound.

“Rodger mentioned Rotterdam.”

“The shipping route.” Papers rustled. “There’s a container scheduled for tonight. Art transport.”

A cold jolt traced my spine. All those missing girls hidden behind forged paperwork. All those lives reduced to numbers in a ledger.

And now Isabella was one of them.

“How long?”

“Four hours until departure. Meet me at the gallery. We’ll need equipment. Maybe more men.”

“I’ve got a contact—Stryker, my trainer. He’ll want to help. I’ll send him your way.”

I was already dialing his number while making my way out of the tunnels. I saw my car parked two blocks away, looking oddly normal on the street. It felt like a lifetime ago that I’d parked it there.

The truth of the situation stopped me. I leaned against the car, legs suddenly weak. The image of Isabella’s body being loaded into a shipping container, cold and dark and alone, made bile rise in my throat. Images flashed through my mind—her coy smile in board meetings, her determination in the vault, her brilliance as she unraveled the bank’s secrets. Her taste on my tongue, her heat around me, her complete trust as she’d let me take her without protection. The way she’d looked at me after, like she saw something in me worth believing in.

Stryker answered on the first ring. He sighed heavily as he listened to me, and I wondered if he was thinking of his sister who had been lost to a similar fate.

“I can’t lose her.” My voice was pleading.

“You won’t.” Stryker’s voice was softer than I’d ever heard it. “But you need to be smart. Channel that brain of yours. I know you’ve been training to physically fight, but in this situation, your intelligence gives us an edge. Text me the address of Steele’s gallery.”

I closed my eyes, my body still bearing the evidence of what we’d just done. Her scent on my skin, the ache in muscles used for passion rather than violence.

“Twenty minutes,” I said. “Then we move.”

I broke several traffic laws as my car raced down the streets of London. The gallery was still dark when I arrived, but Stryker was already laying out equipment. Not workout gear but tactical vests, communication devices, and weapons. Steele stood beside him, that dangerous look in his eyes that reminded me of the Steele from years past.

“Took you long enough.” Steele handed me a vest. “Change. We have work to do. I’ve sent the jet for Cooper, but he’ll be a few hours.”

I stripped off my tuxedo, blood staining the white shirt. Isabella’s dark lipstick still marked my collar, a reminder of how completely she’d undone me just an hour ago. Every movement hurt, but the pain felt right. Deserved. I’d earned it by being too slow. Too weak. Too caught up in wanting her to see the danger closing in.

“The container ship leaves at midnight.” Stryker checked magazines with practiced hands. “Security will be heavy. They’ll be prepared.”

“Good.” I pulled on tactical gear, remembering every drill, every lesson. Everything he’d taught me about protecting what matters. About being ready when it counts. “So are we.”

Stryker moved towards me, his eyes knowing.

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