Page 25 of Taken

Something flickers across his face. He nods once and moves to the other side of the table, maintaining distance that feels deliberate rather than cautious.

“Then we’ll both stand.” He leans against the wall, casual in a way that doesn’t match the rigid Syndicate standard.

My pulse quickens. Here alone with him, I notice details I missed before. The way his eyes shift color in the light—emerald darkening to forest when he tilts his head. The controlled way he breathes, like someone constantly monitoring his own reactions.Movement that speaks of experience wrapped in a body that appears barely past thirty.

“I have questions about your containment protocols,” he begins.

“I imagine you do.”

He raises an eyebrow at my tone but continues. “Your file indicates three escape attempts in your first year. None since.”

I shrug, the motion deliberately casual. “I learned the odds.”

“Or you found a different strategy.” His gaze sharpens, watching for my reaction. His eyes move over me in a way that feels like a physical touch.

Heat floods my body, not from fear but something more troubling. Something unfamiliar—forgotten, perhaps—coils low in my belly, unexpected and unwelcome. I try not to blink in surprise. How long since I’ve felt this? The warmth of desire for someone was burned out of me years ago.

Or so I thought.

“Survival is its own strategy, Mr. Reeve.” I move to the window, reinforced glass offering the illusion of connection to the outside world. “You adapt, or you break. I chose adaptation.”

“Your extraction sessions suggest otherwise.”

I turn sharply. “Been studying my file, have you?”

“Thoroughly.” He pushes away from the wall, moving closer. Not threatening, but intense. “Your resistance patterns are… inconsistent. Calculated.”

“Perhaps your scientists don’t understand seers as well as they think.” I keep my face blank.

His expression doesn’t change. “Perhaps not. Tell me about the visions they pull from you.”

“You’ve seen the reports.”

“I want to hear it from you.”

I laugh, the sound harsh in the small room. “Why? So you can find more efficient ways to extract them? Better restraints, perhaps? Stronger serum?”

“So I can understand what they’re looking for.” He steps closer, voice dropping. “What has Creed so fixated on Craven territory?”

A strange question from a security chief. Not one I expected.

“Dragon politics don’t interest me,” I lie, watching him carefully. “I’m just the tool they use to spy on their enemies.”

“We both know that’s not true.” Another step closer. Close enough that I catch his scent—earth and smoke with something wild beneath. Dragon, no doubt. The beast he keeps restrained. “You see more than they realize, don’t you, Lila?” he asks, surprising me.

My name in his mouth sends an electric current down my spine. In all the time I’ve been here, only Hargen has addressed me this way. The others treat me like I’m not sentient. And as for Creed… he knows I’m human, with feelings. He just doesn’t care.

“Why are you really here?” I ask abruptly, surprising myself with my own audacity.

He considers me for a long moment, eyes measuring something I can’t name. “To assess security protocols.”

I raise an eyebrow, skeptical. “You don’t act like the others.”

“Oh?” His expression reveals nothing.

“The others don’t ask questions like yours.” I keep my distance, still wary despite the pull I feel toward him. “They don’t care what I think.”

“Different methods,” he says simply. “Same goal.”

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