Page 52 of Claimed By Daddy

“They knew I was texting her. They used my messages to lure Eavan from the apartment. Sargsyan came for her.”

Cillian stumbles back like I hit him, shaking his head in disbelief, and the blood draining from his face.

The second the doors open, I’m sprinting through the lobby. “Eavan!” I call out, knowing she isn’t here. “Eavan!” My cries echo off the marble and glass—the vast space is practically empty, less the receptionist sitting behind the desk.

“She just went outside a few minutes ago,” the receptionist softly informs me, looking afraid of the armed men following me.

I storm toward the building’s front doors, Nikolai, Cillian, Gunnar, and Damon all hard on my heels. The moment I hit the street, I spin in place—my eyes scanning up and down the sidewalk like I can will her back if I try hard enough.Nothing.No flutter of her fiery red hair in the crowd down the block. No panicked screams in the distance.

Just… gone.

Minutes too late.

I broke my promise… I let them take her.

My chest heaves, and my knees threaten to buckle. I bend over, hands on my knees, trying to force air into my lungs. The pulse in my ears is so loud it drowns out everything around me. Rage and guilt crushing me, I mumble, “This is my fault. I put her in their hands.”

I’m going to get her back...

Cillian glares at me, and part of me is waiting for him to either agree with me or place a firm fist into my jaw. He firmly grips me by the back of the neck and hauls me into him. “It’s not your fault, Enz,” he mutters, promising it to me and trying to convince himself. “We’re gonna get her back.”

“They’re going to try to get her out of the country. And fast.” Nikolai pulls out his phone, swiping across the screen. “The issue is, which airport are they going to? It’ll take us far too long to scout them all. Drive time alone, they’ll have her over the mid-Atlantic before we can get between Teterboro, White Plains, LaGuardia, and JFK.”

“If we choose the wrong one…” Cillian sighs, also digging his phone from his pocket. “I’ll start getting guys on the road to all of them.”.

“We won’t,” I exhale, swiping Cillian’s phone out of his hand. He grumbles as I pull up the website—the one that will save her. The one connected to the tracker I hid in the necklace I gifted her. It takes three agonizing seconds to load. And then—there. A red blip.

Glancing over my shoulder, Cillian gruffs, “You fucking LoJack’ed my sister?”

“You can be pissed with me about it later.” I zoom in on the map, watching the little red dot approaching the Lincoln Tunnel. “When we bring her back home. They’re heading to Teterboro.”

The SUV rumbles over a pothole, and I jostle in my seat, my shoulder slamming into the man on my right. The only reaction I get from him is a short, annoyed glance. He’s completely uninterested in me, like I’m nothing more than cargo.

I try to lean away, but there’s nowhere to go. I’m boxed in on both sides, my wrists are bound tightly with thin zip ties that cut into my skin every time I move.

With Davit’s knees slightly parted and his arm draped over the back of the driver’s seat, he watches me from the front passenger seat. He looks so relaxed, you’d think he was relaxing in a private booth in a cigar lounge instead of ridingshotgun in a getaway car. He smiles at me with the satisfaction of a man who has already won.

“You’ve become very quiet, spitfire,” he croons, his voice smooth and disgustingly sultry.

“I’m thinking,” I share.

He stares at me, his brow arching inquisitively. “Enlighten me.”

“I’m considering whether or not spitting in your face would get me shot.”

“There she is.” He chuckles softly. “I was worried you’d lost that fire I like so much.”

I lift my chin and shake my head. “You don’t get to talk to me like you know me.”

“But I do,” he replies. “I know your name… Your family…Your taste in music… How unbelievably gorgeous those curves of yours look in lingerie. Particularly that little black strappy number you took photos of yourself wearing the other day.”

I feel the blood draining from my face as my body goes cold again. “How—” I cut myself off, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of my discomfort.

But it’s too late, he knows he’s hit a nerve. His eyes light up with amusement. “Yes,” he answers, as if he knows exactly what question I was going to ask. “We’ve read every message. Every dirty little text between the two of you. Every sweetlittle word your Italian playboy sent to you. Every promise. Every I love you. Every Daddy.”

I swallow hard, choking down the bile rising in my throat when I put it together. The text from Enzo telling me to meet him in the lobby, it wasn’t from him.It was them. They used my unwavering trust in him to take me.

“You’re lying,” I exclaim, even though I know he isn’t.

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