Page 49 of Claimed By the Damned

I exhale, glancing at Ethan, who’s already typing away, and Ryker, who’s pacing like a caged animal.

“Soon,” I say. “Very soon.”

With the immediate security reinforcement addressed, the focus snaps back to the core threat. Ethan hasn’t stopped typing, his fingers flying across the keyboard, eyes locked on the screen. The soft glow of multiple monitors illuminates the grim set ofhis face as he digs deeper into Mikhailov's shadowed world. I settle back into a chair, nursing my drink, the ice long melted, watching fragmented data scroll past – a digital breadcrumb trail into darkness.

Alright," Ethan mutters, his voice tight. "Mikhailov’s got a longer shadow than initial reports suggested—arms deals, black-market trades, human trafficking whispers alongside the smuggling. No official government ties, but confirms powerful connections, deep reach. All of this we already know, he a big player in LA"

Ryker leans over Ethan’s shoulder, peering at the screen, his earlier fury now a cold, dangerous stillness. "Anything concrete linking him tous? Beyond rumor?" He pauses, recognition hardening his features. "His name... it’s scratching at something. Weknowthere were past conflicts, incidents where his operations were impacted by assets we were involved with, even indirectly."

Ethan frowns, running a complex search algorithm. Lines of code scroll rapidly, then halt. His eyes widen almost imperceptibly. "Shit. Yeah. Found it. More direct than just impacted assets. Years ago, that high-profile extraction we did in Columbia. The intel indicate Nikolai Mikhailov provided untraceable logistical support to the opposition element we dismantled. He apparently lost millions, resources, and significant face when the target vanished and that part of his network collapsed."

A low curse escapes Ryker, teeth grinding. "Great. So, he already has significant beef with operations tied to us, and now he gets windwe, specifically, have the woman he tormented?"

Ethan nods grimly. "Looks that way. Which makes the timing of her escape leading her straight tous..." He trails off, the implication hanging heavy – the dangerous, almost fated collision of it all.

My strategist’s brain, despite everything, registers the brutal synchronicity.Could it be…?But the flicker lasts less than a heartbeat, instantly extinguished by the raw, undeniable memory of Lila’s broken whispers, the terror etched onto her soul. To evenconsiderher involved after witnessing that feels profane.

"No," I state immediately, my voice flat and absolute, cutting off any potential misinterpretation of Ethan’s observation or Ryker's rising tension. "Let's be clear. The timing is bad luck, nothing more. She’s not part of some scheme. What she endured was real. Her terror is real." My gaze locks with Ryker's, then Ethan's, conveying certainty. "She's a victim caught in his web, and now that web intersects with our past. That's the reality."

Ryker nods sharply, the protective tension easing slightly, accepting my immediate dismissal of any doubt. "Damn right."

Ethan sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Agreed. Wasn't suggesting she was involved, just... the level of complication this adds is insane."

"It means he has more reason than simple possession to come after her," I continue. "Once he connects the dots, realizesweare the ones shielding her... it becomes personal revenge layered onto his obsession. He won't just want her back; he'll want to destroy us for harboring her and for costing him years ago."

The confirmation of this past link, piled atop the raw horror of Lila’s testimony earlier tonight, creates a suffocating pressure. The image of her curled on the couch, recounting Kolya’s calculated cruelty, clashes violently with the cold, calculated danger Mikhailov represents.

A familiar weight settles deeper in my chest, constricting my breath. The intel, the past, Lila... it presses down. I lean back in my chair, the worn leather groaning softly.

Ethan and Ryker resume dissecting Kolya's network, potential allies, known weaknesses—their voices eventually fading tobackground static. My mind is elsewhere, drowning in memories I keep chained deep inside. Memories clawing their way relentlessly to the surface now.

My grip tightens around the whiskey glass again.Control. It’s all I have. But Lila... she chips away at it with every hesitant smile, every flicker of vulnerability, every nightmare I pull her back from. Watching Ryker walk out of the room with her… the feeling that ripped through me wasn't just protectiveness. It was raw, possessive jealousy mixed with a deeper, uglier companion. Guilt.

I clear my throat, the sound rough, cutting through their discussion. Both Ryker and Ethan turn towards me, their debate halting abruptly, waiting.

"We need to address something else," I state, keeping my voice level, measured, despite the turmoil inside. "Lila."

Ryker raises a brow, defensive posture settling back over him almost instantly. Ethan just watches me, his expression neutral, assessing.

"This situation," I continue, gesturing between the three of us, "is... unprecedented for us. We work together, we fight together, we bleed together. We don't... share women." The words feel awkward, clinical, but necessary. "It's clear you both have strong feelings for her." My gaze flicks to Ethan and then Ryker, acknowledging the protective shield they naturally formed around her, the moments of intimacy I've witnessed. "You've both acted on it."

Ryker doesn't flinch, meeting my gaze squarely. Ethan shifts slightly, looking uncomfortable but not disagreeing.

"I see how she's..." I struggle for the right word, settling on, "...integrating. Affecting us. You two especially." I pause, forcing myself to add the difficult part, the admission I've barely allowed myself. "And me. She affects me too."

The words stick in my throat, thick and heavy, feeling like a confession I shouldn’t make. But seeing the dynamic shift, seeing their connection with her deepen... it forces the conclusion. I finally force the next part out, the sound rough. "You two already have her. It’s right. I should step aside."

Ryker stiffens instantly, his head snapping towards me. "The fuck are you talking about?"

I exhale sharply, setting my drink down with more force than necessary, crystal clinking against the wood. My hands clench on the arms of the chair. "I don’t deserve her. Not after what happened to you, Ryker."

I press the heels of my hands against my temples, trying to push back the onslaught. It's useless."Operation Nightfall. The decisions that led to you being captured and tortured when everything went to hell.”

My finger hovering over the map overlay, the tactical choice seeming logical based on the intel. Ignoring the tremor of doubt deep in my gut. The comms exploding with chaos exactly where I feared it might."That was on me. My command. My failure." My voice is scraped raw.

"And when we finally got you back…”

The worst image surfaces:Finding him in that black hole. The stench of death and rot. Ryker barely conscious, impossibly thin, brutalized beyond recognition. Eyes… God, those hollow, vacant eyes staring not at me, but through me, like he was already gone.My throat constricts. "You were barely hanging on."

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