Page 89 of Knot Your Romeo

"No one," I insist, but we both know he doesn't believe me.

Blake leaves the room without another word, and I hear his footsteps retreating down the hallway. But he's back within minutes, carrying something that makes my heart stop. A syringe filled with clear liquid.

"No," I breathe, scrambling backward on the bed. "Blake, please. Not that."

"You need to sleep for a while," he says with false sympathy. "Just until I can be certain you're not causing trouble."

Jude!I scream through our mental connection as Blake approaches the bed.He's going to drug me. He has a syringe—

We're coming! Just hold on—

Blake lunges forward, catching my arm before I can escape. I fight with everything I have, clawing at his face, trying to break free. But he's stronger, and his men have clearly taught him how to restrain efficiently.

There's a prick first and then the needle slides into my neck. Bile rises in my throat when I feel the drug beginning to work. My limbs grow heavy, and my vision blurs at the edges.

"There's a good girl," Blake murmurs as darkness creeps in from all sides. "Sweet dreams, darling. When you wake up, we'll begin your new life properly."

Jude,I manage one last mental whisper as consciousness slips away.I love you. I love all of you. Find me.

But blackness swallows me whole.

33

Beck

The military-grade helicopter cutsthrough the night sky like a blade, its rotors churning through mountain air so thin it burns my lungs.

Dmitri's mercenaries are silent, waiting. These are men who've done this kind of work in places where mistakes mean death. I silently watch as they check their weapons, review tactical positions, and communicate with short, clipped Russian phrases. I've worked with dangerous men before, but never like this. These aren't corporate security or even high-end bodyguards. These are soldiers of fortune, the kind who destroy governments and extract hostages from war zones. The kind who don't ask questions about collateral damage.

"ETA three minutes," the pilot announces through our headsets.

Beside me, Jude grips the armrest of his seat, his face pale with concentration as he tries to maintain contact with Emmiethrough their soul bond. He's been reaching out every few minutes since we left the airfield. But for the past half an hour, he is growing more frantic each time he fails to connect.

"Anything?" I ask him for what feels like the millionth time.

He shakes his head, jaw clenched with frustration. "Nothing. She said he had a syringe."

"She's not dead," Eli interrupts sharply from across the cabin. "If she were dead, you'd feel it. Soul bonds don't just disappear."

Jude nods, but I can see the fear eating at him. The fear that we're too late, that Blake has already done something irreversible.

"He won't kill her. She's too valuable for that," I say and watch Jude's shoulders drop.

The helicopter begins its descent, and through the windows I can see Blake's compound spread out below us—a fortress of logs and stone nestled in a valley between snow-capped peaks. Motion-sensor lights illuminate the perimeter, revealing armed guards patrolling the grounds like a military operation.

"Target confirmed," Dmitri's team leader announces. "Multiple hostiles visible, probable additional personnel inside structure. Recommend tactical approach from three vectors."

Within minutes, we're on the ground, boots crunching through snow as Dmitri's men move between the trees and head toward the compound. A hand raises in the air for us to stop.

"Four targets in view. Permission to kill."

Dmitri glances at me. I nod. "Granted."

The night erupts in controlled violence. All four men are now dead on the floor, with red snow pooling around them.

Hand grenades shatter windows and ears, suppressed gunfire cutting down Blake's security team before they can retaliate.

I've seen corporate espionage, white-collar crime, even organized crime enforcement. But this is war, swift and brutal and absolutely final.

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