Page 81 of Knot Your Romeo

“That can be arranged,” Blake replies pleasantly. “But I’d prefer to keep this civilized. Much less paperwork.”

They’ve reached the helicopter now. Emmie is still fighting, but her struggles are growing weaker as shock and fear take their toll. The sight of her being forced into that aircraft makes something primitive and violent rise in my chest.

“Emmie!” I shout over the increasing rotor noise. “I choose you, Emmie. Don’t let him win!”

She turns toward my voice, tears streaming down her face. “Eli—“

The helicopter door slams shut, cutting off her words. Through the window, I can see her pressed against the glass, her mouth open in a scream I can’t hear over the engine noise.

Beck lunges forward, but it’s too late. The aircraft lifts off, rising quickly above the estate grounds. Within seconds, it’s nothing more than a black dot against the sky, carrying away the most important person in my world.

I try to stand but sink to my knees, the zip ties finally cutting through skin to draw blood.

Rita is sobbing somewhere behind me, and Beck is on his phone, probably calling every resource he has. But all I can think about is the look in Emmie’s eyes as they took her away. The terror, the betrayal, the desperate plea for help that I was too weak, too slow, too fucking useless to answer.

She’s gone. And I don’t know if we’ll ever get her back.

30

Beck

The helicopter disappears intothe distance, a black speck against the darkening sky, and with it goes everything that matters. I stand frozen in my own driveway, watching my Omega—my pack mate, my heart—being carried away by a monster, and for the first time in decades, I feel completely helpless.

“Beck.” Eli’s voice cuts through the roar of blood in my ears. He’s managed to get to his feet despite the zip ties, blood trickling from his split lip. “We need to move. Now.”

The practical words snap me back to reality. I pull out my phone, scrolling through contacts with hands that shake with barely contained rage. “I’m calling the FBI. This is kidnapping, clear as day. Federal crime, interstate—“

“Beck, no.” Rita’s voice stops me cold. She’s standing in the cottage doorway, her face pale but determined. “You can’t involve law enforcement.”

“The hell I can’t. They just took—“

“Blake has papers.” Her voice cracks on the words. “Legal documents claiming Emmie is mentally incompetent. Guardianship orders, psychiatric evaluations—all fake, but they’ll look genuine enough to muddy the waters legally. By the time the courts sort it out...”

She doesn’t need to finish.

By the time bureaucracy runs its course, Blake will have moved Emmie somewhere untouchable, probably out of the country. He’ll have what he wants from her, and she’ll be broken beyond repair. If she survives at all.

I send a message to another contact. A man I haven’t needed to use for a very long time. I hit send, pocket the phone and move to Eli, using my key to cut through his restraints. The moment his hands are free, he’s pulling out his own phone.

“Jude needs to know,” he says grimly. “And we need to figure out where Blake would take her.”

“I might know,” Rita says quietly. “There’s a compound in Montana. It’s remote, off the grid. He used to talk about it when he thought I wasn’t listening—his ‘retirement property.’ If he’s planning to...to keep her long-term...”

The thought makes my vision blur with fury. I’ve dealt with dangerous men my entire adult life, but Blake represents something beyond ordinary criminal behavior. He’s a monster.

My phone rings, the contact name making my blood freeze.Dmitri Volkov.

I asked for his help. I stare at the screen for a moment, knowing that answering this call will change everything. Dmitri doesn’t need to help anyone unless he wants something, and what he wants usually involves crossing lines I swore I’d never cross again. But for Emmie...

“Beck, don’t,” Eli says, reading my expression. “Whatever you’re thinking, there has to be another way.”

I answer the call. “Dmitri.”

“Beckett Silver.” The voice carries a slight Russian accent, cultured but carrying undertones of violence. “Your text. You have a problem. Helicopter, yes? Man takes what is yours?”

“That’s right.”

“And you need my help.” There’s amusement in his voice.

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