Page 21 of Taken

I close my eyes, feigning greater exhaustion than I feel. “New security chief seems thorough,” I murmur, keeping my tone casual. “More by-the-book than Matthews.”

Hargen’s hands pause momentarily. “He comes highly recommended. Military background.”

“Figured that much from the stick up his ass,” I say with just enough bite to sound dismissive. “Though he seemed concerned about damaging the goods.”

“Asset preservation is standard protocol,” Hargen replies carefully, but his eyes tell a different story. He’s noticed something, too.

“Well, as long as he keeps Creed from frying my brain, I suppose he can stick around.” I turn my face toward the window, watching Hargen’s reflection rather than looking at him directly. “Didn’t expect the hands-on approach, though.”

Hargen follows my gaze. “How do you mean?”

“The restraint check.” I shrug as if it’s nothing. “Matthews never bothered.”

“Different methods, different dragons.” Hargen’s voice is level, but I catch the subtle tension in his shoulders. “Try not to read too much into it, Lila. Change isn’t always significant.”

But we both know it is. Especially here.

“I’m tired,” I say instead of pushing further. No need to make Hargen suspicious of my interest. “That extraction took more out of me than usual.”

“Rest,” he agrees, professional distance returning as he moves toward the door. “I’ll check in on you later.”

After he leaves, I move to the window, pressing my cheek against the cool glass. My body aches, but my mind races with possibilities.

Allard Reeve. Security specialist. Dragon. Different.

My skin still tingles where his fingers brushed my wrist. That momentary connection—like a current passing between two live wires. Impossible, yet unmistakable.

I close my eyes, focusing past the pain to the tiny spark of something I’d almost forgotten.

Hope.

Dangerous, yes. Foolish, absolutely. Hope has no place in a cage like this.

But as I touch the hollow panel behind my bed, feeling the stored secrets of my prophecies, I can’t help wondering if the game has finally changed.

If Allard Reeve might be the catalyst I’ve been waiting for.

Or just another disappointment.

Only time will tell. And time, at least, is something I have plenty of.

Chapter 7

Talon

I taste bile as I stride away from the extraction chamber, each step measured to conceal the rage burning beneath my skin. My dragon stirs, scales itching to break through as I round the corner and duck into a supply closet.

Fuck.

I press my forehead against the cool metal shelving, breathing deeply to cool the fire building in my lungs. What I just witnessed wasn’t interrogation. It wasn’t intelligence gathering. It was torture, sanitized with clinical terminology and chrome equipment.

The woman’s face flashes behind my eyelids. Pale skin stretched too tight over cheekbones, hair damp with sweat, blood trickling from her nose as they tore visions from her mind. Lila Ross. Notasset. Notwitch. A woman with eyes that cut straight through my carefully constructed façade.

My fist clenches, knuckles whitening. I’ve seen Syndicate brutality before, but this… this was something else entirely. The calculated precision of her suffering, the routine of it. For so many years…

How is she still sane?

I check my watch. I have seven minutes before my “inspection” of the north quadrant security systems is expected to begin. Seven minutes to make contact.

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