Page 60 of Owned By Shadows

“Not sure I gave you permission for a nickname, cuz,” he states but gives me a half smile before releasing me and walking away, melting into the darkness.

Back at my hotel room, I upload the data Az gave me from the thumb drive, encrypting it to send to Nik so he has all the information as soon as possible. My phone pings next to me on the bed with a notification from our island security system. A package delivery.

I open the security feed to see a small wooden box sitting on our doorstep with no delivery person in sight. We don’t get any packages or mail. No one should know we’re on that island, aside from the Black Knights. So how the fuck did it even get on the island, let alone outside the front door?

My heart thuds inside my chest as I dial Rowan while scrolling back through the feed, but there’s nothing. The box isn’t there, and then it is. Someone has messed with our systems.

“Roman, you need to get back here,” my twin says without preamble, his voice tight.

“The package?—”

“It’s from Sergi,” he cuts me off. There must have been a delay in my receiving the notification because it seems he knows more than I do. “It’s... Fuck, just get back here.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

“WHERE DO WE GO FROM HERE” BY RUELLE

IRIS

Isit on the sofa, the contents of the package spread on the coffee table before me, and I feel numb. My hands tremble as I stare at the items again, as if they may morph before me, changing to be less..terrifying.

A small, hand-knitted, blue baby hat, a matching blanket, a sterling silver rattle, and a note, handwritten in elegant Cyrillic script Nik translated after throwing his glass of water at the wall.

For my son. I look forward to meeting him soon. Perhaps sooner than you planned.

Nik paces the room like a caged tiger, phone to his ear as he speaks rapidly in Russian to someone on the other end. Hunter sits beside me, a small bandage covering the gunshot wound that he’s still not fully recovered from. His hand covers one of mine, but I barely feel it.

“Blue,” I whisper, my shaking hand reaching out and fingering the baby hat. “How did he know my baby is a boy?”

“He’s taunting us,” Rowan says, bringing me a steaming cup of mint tea, then taking the bonnet from my fingers and wrapping them around the hot mug.

Hunter’s jaw tightens. “He’s escalating his game.”

The front door bangs open, and I jump, spilling tea all over the floor as Roman rushes in, his face flushed. His eyes find the baby items, then land on me.

“He’s upgraded his surveillance,” he says without hesitation as he comes closer, Bubby coming in after him and shutting the door behind him. “The satellites he’s been using to track us— He’s got better thermal imaging now, higher resolution equipment.”

I shudder, not knowing the full implications of his words but knowing that they mean nothing good for me, for my baby.

Nik ends his call, turning to face us. “He’s been watching us from the beginning. Looks like he finally found us.” Then he curses in Russian, running his hand through his hair as he comes towards our group. Rowan returns with a fresh cup of tea and a cloth to mop up the spillage, and I wonder when he left and how I didn’t notice.

“The difference now is…” Roman says, and my heart sinks at his tone serious and gloomy. “These new systems might detect fetal positioning. With the right analytics, they might even determine gender based on heat patterns. Or someone at the hospital in Russia let slip, and he’s known all this time that you’re carrying his son.”

Roman sets his laptop on the table next to the baby items and opens it to display a satellite image. It’s the island, the house, and our heat signatures visible as coloured blobs. My mouth turns dry.

“This is from three days ago,” he mumbles, and chills cascade over my skin. “He’s been watching us the whole time.”

“Breathe, Peaches,” Hunt reminds me gently, and I take a deep inhale, holding it for a moment, then letting it out slowly, repeating the breathing exercise until my pulse has stopped thrumming in my ears.

Nik picks up the rattle, turning it over in his hands, his brows knotted. He presses the side, thesnickof a hidden catch on the handle that causes it to pop open, revealing a small compartment. It’s empty, but a sour taste fills my mouth at the sight.

“It’s a message,” Nik says, looking grim as he studies the seemingly innocent item. “This is what they used to use to smuggle poison to targets. He’s telling us he could have if he wanted to. That he can reach us anytime.”

I gasp, the meaning of his words shocking me to my core. They poison babies, or at least mothers like me carrying unborn children. The thought is abhorrent, a crime so heinous I can barely wrap my head around it. My trembling hand flies to my rounded stomach, as if that would be enough to protect my child from this monster.

Andrei enters from the kitchen carrying a glass of water and my medication, coming to cross in front of me. “Your blood pressure may spike when you hear the rest,” he warns, handing me the pills once I set my tea down. I take them, even if my hand shakes so much the water spills a little down the glass.

Roman swipes to another screen. “He’s been acquiring medical equipment. Specifically, equipment for premature births and neonatal care.”

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