Page 5 of No Words
And something else. A flush rising along her neck, pupils dilated beyond what fear alone would cause.
Interesting.
The men move away, continuing down the alley. I slowly remove my hand from her mouth, but maintain our position against the wall.
“You need to do exactly what I say,” I murmur almost silently, close enough that my lips brush her ear. “Can you handle that?”
Her breath catches, but she nods. “Yes.”
“Good.” I step back, already planning our next move. “We’re switching vehicles two blocks east. Stay close.”
We move through the shadows of the city, avoiding the main streets and security cameras. She obeys without question, moving when I move, silent when I demand it. The natural submission sends satisfaction coursing through my veins. Prosecutors receive basic security protocols, but she’s executing them like someone with field experience.
I secure our secondary vehicle and usher her inside. “We need to get out of the city. I have a secure location, but it’s remote.”
“How remote?” She asks, buckling her seatbelt with steady hands.
“Isolated enough that the Borsellini family won’t find you,” I answer, starting the engine. “No neighbors, no digital footprint. Just the kind of place they won’t think to look.”
My phone buzzes. A secure message from Killian’s network. They targeted the safe house. Two agents down. They were waiting.
“We just got confirmation,” I tell her, pulling onto the highway. “The FBI safe house was hit twenty minutes ago. Two agents are down, the same way they murdered Federal JudgeMorrison last year. If you’d gone there, you’d be either dead or en route to meet Alessio Borsellini right now.”
She pales, reality finally sinking in. “How did you know?”
“We’ve been monitoring Borsellini’s operation for months. Former military, intelligence, and federal agents who got tired of watching corruption win. We operate outside official channels because the official ones failed us first.” I pause, old anger surfacing. “I spent three years watching witnesses die because bureaucrats cared more about protocol than protection. Killian showed me there was another way.”
“We?” she questions.
“Private security network.” Enough truth to satisfy without revealing the full operation. “Killian runs the operation. Jackson is intelligence. Gabriel is tactical. Kai is medical and demolitions. We’ve saved over two hundred people when official protection failed.”
“And I’m just supposed to trust you?” The question poses no real challenge. She knows she has no choice.
“You’re supposed to survive,” I correct her. “Trust comes later.”
I navigate another turn, maintaining surveillance for any signs of pursuit. My earpiece crackles, Gabriel reporting from base.
“Clean highway, but they’re hitting three more addresses tonight.”
The network has safe houses in six states. Killian’s network isn’t something I can fully explain to her yet, not the reach of it, nor how a man who escaped a powerful criminal organization built an underground system more effective than most government agencies. Not the way we operate outside legal boundaries when necessary, or how many lives we’ve saved when official channels failed.
“The man who runs this network,” I say carefully, measuring how much to reveal, “has been tracking connections between crime families like the Borsellinis and larger syndicates for years. Your case is the key that unlocks everything. The Borsellinis aren’t independent operators; they’re foot soldiers for something much bigger.”
Her prosecutor’s mind catches the implication immediately. “Bigger than a RICO case against one of the largest crime families on the East Coast?”
“Much bigger.” I leave it at that. She doesn’t need to know about The Order yet, or how Killian’s personal vendetta against them has saved dozens of lives like hers.
The city lights fade behind us as we head into the darkness of the interstate. I maintain surveillance, checking mirrors, scanning for pursuit. Nothing yet, but they’ll be regrouping, organizing a wider search.
“How long until we reach this... secure location?” She asks after twenty minutes of silence.
“Three hours. It’s an isolated cabin off the grid. Security perimeter, emergency escape tunnels, supplies for an extended stay. Everything we need.”
“Extended?”
I glance at her, taking in her work attire, her composed demeanor despite everything. The streetlights cast shadows across her face, highlighting the curve of her lips, the determination in her eyes. I want her. The realization hits with brutal clarity. She’s mine, and my body already knows what my mind is fighting to deny.
“From this moment, Molly Morrone ceases to exist.” I let my gaze travel over her, taking inventory. “For however long necessary, you belong to me. You’re mine to protect.”
