Page 149 of Indulge
I wipe the blade on his shirt, grab the keycard clipped to his belt, and bolt for the door.
I press the comm in my ear to Drago. “Extraction,” I whisper. “Now.”
The guard’s ID badge in my hand is slick with his blood. His boots thud a few feet away as he slips into a shallow convulsion and then goes still.
The plastic card’s laminate catches the dim light. I flip it over with fingers that don’t quite stop trembling, and the name stares up at me in cold block letters:IGOR KORCHINOV.
My skin prickles. That name tells me more than the blade did. And gives Reggie and Rowan another lead to Russia.
I steady myself against the concrete before I step into the corridor.
I hit the comm again. “Can I proceed?”
Static. Then Drago’s voice. “Back route’s clear. Two exits. Head left, service door by the boiler room. I’m pushing a distraction on the floor cams, sixty seconds.”
Sixty seconds. My lungs want to collapse. My legs want to run. I force my feet into motion. I just want my men to pick me up and drag me out of here. I want to feel safe again.
Every corner could be an ambush. I pause at a service door with a rusted exit sign and hold my breath. The lock reads green on the keycard. I don’t let myself think ahead. I think of Reggie’s thumb against my lip, the way Rowan hums when he’s anxious. I push the door and slip out into the alley, the night air biting my skin. Above me, neon flickers. The city hums, indifferent to the blood on my hands.
“On you in thirty,” Drago’s voice comes through. “Keep moving to the van. Third light post. Blue Ford. Don’t stop. Quiet.”
“Copy,” I whisper. “See you in thirty.”
I run with my knife clutched tight. Behind me, the club’s door slams shut. In front of me, freedom looks like a dark street and a waiting van.
And I don’t stop running.
73
ROWAN
The van idles under the third streetlight. The engine hums steady, but inside, everything feels like it’s holding its breath.
Drago’s voice crackles in my ear. “She’s clear. Ten meters out.”
I lean forward, every nerve stretched thin. “Eyes?”
“Negative. Cameras looped. Two minutes clean.”
Reggie’s hand drums against his knee, his tension sharp enough to cut glass. “If they spot her?—”
“They won’t,” I snap, even though I don’t believe it.
The street beyond the windshield is empty, until it isn’t.
Then she’s there.
Bella.
Moving fast. Her hair wild, blood on her sleeve and fire in her eyes. She’s half chaos, half miracle, and every part of me aches to go to her.
Reggie’s already out the door before I can stop him. I follow, pulse pounding. The night air is cold against my face, the kind of cold that burns. But, I don’t give a shit. I just need her in my arms.
She doesn’t slow when she sees us. She just runs harder, straight into Reggie’s arms. He catches her, holding her like she’s the only thing that matters, and right now, she is.
I sweep the street, checking corners, rooftops, reflections in windows. Nothing. But the silence feels too easy.
“Get in,” I say, my voice low.
