Page 59 of Taken

“I’m coming for you,” he reminds me, voice low. “Be ready.”

“I will.”

He pauses, looking back. Something intense burns in his eyes, something beyond desire or even affection.

“For what it’s worth,” he says quietly, “that wasn’t part of any mission or cover.”

Then he’s gone, slipping through the darkness like he was never there. Only the lingering scent of smoke and spice, the pleasant heat between my thighs, and the ghost of his touch on my skin remain as evidence.

I curl up on the couch, pulling the blanket around my shoulders. Three days until freedom. Three days until we try to save Elena. Three days that will determine whether we live or die.

But for now, for just this moment, I allow myself to feel something I’d thought lost forever. The feeling of being a woman.

And for tonight, at least, it’s enough.

Chapter 16

Talon

The buzzing drags me from sleep—insistent, relentless. My tablet vibrates itself halfway off the nightstand before I snatch it, blinking against the harsh light that illuminates my quarters.

Three in the fucking morning.

The display shows a string of urgent messages, all within the last twelve minutes. Security breach. Command presence required. Priority Alpha.

Something’s gone sideways. Bad.

I’m moving before conscious thought catches up; boots on, tactical vest over bare chest, sidearm secured. Training takes over, filtering panic into focused action. The last message from Creed flashes as I pull open the door.

PRIMARY TARGET LOST. EMERGENCY PROTOCOL ACTIVATED.

Shit! Elena.

The corridors blur as I jog toward the Ops Room. It roils with barely controlled anxiety when I shove through the doors. Analysts hunched over screens, security personnel barking into comms, maps and surveillance feeds covering every display surface. The air crackles with urgency barely held in check by Syndicate discipline.

Creed stands at the central console, knuckles clenched against the edge, face twisting between fury and something I’ve never seen on him before—fear. Real fear.

“Reeve.” His head snaps up. “About goddamn time.”

“Just got the alert. What’s happened?” I scan the displays, looking for any sign of Elena’s tracking signal. Finding none.

“She’s gone.” Creed’s voice could freeze blood. “The Ross girl has disappeared.”

“Disappeared?” I play my part while my mind races ahead. “What do you mean?”

Creed’s jaw clenches until I hear teeth grind. “She was meeting someone—a friend—at a park downtown. Never made it home. Surveillance lost her completely.”

“Her tracker?” I ask, careful not to reveal how much this news rattles me.

“Went dark.” Emerson appears at my shoulder, her usually immaculate appearance fraying at the edges. “Complete signal loss. No electronic footprint since.”

“Any witnesses?” I study the grid map of Seattle on the main display, Elena’s last known location pulsing red.

“Two street dealers reported seeing a ‘monster’ in the park.” Creed’s voice drips with disgust. “Local authorities dismissed it as drug-induced hallucination. But our assets intercepted the police report. They described wings. A figure that moved too fast to see clearly.”

A cold weight settles in my gut. “Dragon.”

“Precisely.” Creed brings up a series of surveillance photos—a tall, hard-featured man with close-cropped gray hair and a grizzled beard. “Malakai Steele. He’s been on our watch list for months, operating within Craven’s inner circle as an advisor.”

---