Page 38 of Taken

We’re getting her out of here.

Whether Cole understands I’m not who I claim to be, he’s choosing Lila over the Syndicate. Right now, that’s all that matters.

Cole nods once and continues toward Lila’s quarters, professional mask firmly in place.

I return to my assigned station, my thoughts consumed by her. By the scent of her hair when I’d leaned close during our kiss. By the softness of her lips. By the flash in her eyes when she’d pushed me away—not in rejection, but in fear. Fear of connection, of vulnerability.

Fear that I understood all too well.

For the next forty minutes, I divide my attention between analyzing the energy readings as ordered and monitoring the security feeds from the extraction chamber. My claws slip out twice, digging into my palms as I struggle for control.

I watch as they bring Lila in. She’s stoic, but I catch the flicker of fear in her eyes when she’s strapped into the chair. My chest tightens, remembering how, just days ago, I’d adjusted those same restraints, my fingers lingering against her pulse point. How she’d looked at me then, confused and wary but also… curious.

Cole stands nearby, his face professionally blank, though I note the subtle tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers curl into his palms. His protectiveness of her both reassures and irritates me—an unexpected emotion I can’t afford to indulge.

Creed enters, carrying the secure case. Emerson follows with her tablet, already calibrating the extraction equipment.

“Ms. Ross,” Creed says, voice deceptively pleasant. “Thank you for joining us on such short notice.”

As if she had a choice.

Lila says nothing, but her eyes track Creed’s movements as he approaches.

“We have something to show you,” Creed continues, placing the case on a nearby table. “Something I believe you’ll find… familiar.”

He removes the Shard, holding it up so Lila can see it clearly. The crimson crystal pulses in the sterile light of the extraction chamber, casting blood-red shadows across her face.

For just a fraction of a second, her perfect mask slips. Alarm, quickly hidden. But I saw it. The same expression she’d worn when I’d caught her after a vision in her room. When I’d tasted her fear and defiance on my tongue.

“Do you know what this is?” Creed asks, moving closer to her.

“A crystal,” she says, voice flat. “Should I be impressed?”

God, her defiance makes something primal stir in my blood. Even strapped down, at their mercy, she refuses to bend.

“Don’t play games,” Creed snaps. “This is the Shard of the Heartstone. The missing piece your ancestors helped hide.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Her eyes never leave the crystal, though her voice remains steady.

“Lies.” Creed brings the Shard closer, hovering it inches from her face. “Your bloodline has always been connected to the Heartstone. The Rossewyn witches served the Dragon Kings. Channeled their power through the Stone.”

Something flickers in her eyes—knowledge she’s hiding, secrets she’s kept for years. “So you found it. Am I supposed to be impressed?”

Creed’s jaw tightens with frustration. He places the Shard directly into her bound hand, forcing her fingers to curl around it.

The effect is immediate and violent. The crystal flares with blinding crimson light. Lila bucks against the restraints, a gasp tearing from her throat as energy crackles between her skin and the Shard. For a moment, her eyes glow with the same crimson light, power flowing between witch and crystal in a circuit I can almost see.

Heat floods my body at the sight—her power, uncontained. Beautiful and terrifying. For that brief moment, I glimpse whatshe truly is beneath the layers of captivity and control—raw magic, ancient bloodline, defiance incarnate.

Then she wrenches her hand away, the Shard tumbling to the floor.

“Activate it,” Creed hisses, shoving it into her hand again. Lila grits her teeth and squeezes her eyes shut. The crystal flickers and then darkens, its light dimming as if she’s pulled energy away from it.

Creed’s expression grows thunderous. A shimmer crosses his cheeks—scales breaking through in anger.

“Very well, if that’s the way you want to play it,” he decides, returning the Shard to its case. “We’ll see how you feel once you’ve been softened up a bit.” He nods to Emerson. “Begin the procedure. Full intensity.”

I grip the edge of my console, claws fully extended now, digging into the metal. Control slipping with each passing second. The need to protect her burns through my blood like wildfire.

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