Page 95 of Stolen to Be Mine


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I positioned myself between her and the phone.

Like that would help against a voice.

“Who is this?” Her voice steadier than I expected.

“Someone who knows exactly what you’re sitting next to.” A pause. “You’re making my life difficult.”

Clare glanced at me. I nodded. Keep him talking.

“If you want us alive, help us. Tell us what the chip is. What they did to him.”

“Not over the phone.” Flat. Definitive. “And not until you prove you’re worth the risk.”

“What risk? You already know where we are.”

A dry laugh. No humor in it.

“I know you’re in Lyon. I know you’re in Guillotière. I could narrow it down further, but I’m choosing not to. That’s called courtesy. Don’t make me regret it.”

My jaw locked tight.

“What do you want?” Clare’s hand found mine. Squeezed hard.

“Delete the post. Burn the laptop. Move locations within twenty-four hours. Do those three things, and I’ll consider making contact again using this phone. Safely. In person.”

“In person?”

“Those are my terms. Non-negotiable. I’d suggest you hurry.”

“Wait...”

The line went dead.

Clare stared at the phone. Then at me.

“What the fuck just happened?”

I had no answer.

Just a countdown timer in my head.

And decisions we couldn’t afford to get wrong.

Chapter 14

Clare

The industrial complex stretched before us, all rusted metal and broken glass glittering under freezing rain.

Twenty-two hours after the call. We’d followed every instruction: deleted the post, smashed the laptop with a brick behind a dumpster, packed what little we owned into a single backpack currently digging into my shoulders. The burner phone felt like a live grenade in Xavier’s jacket.

Five PM. Gray afternoon light barely made it through the sleet hammering down.

The docks spread out to our left, skeletal cranes reaching into low clouds. To our right, abandoned warehouses huddled together like rotting teeth. Everything slick and soaked, the kind that went straight through clothes and turned concrete into ice.

Perfect place for an ambush. Obviously.

“This is a terrible idea.” I kept my tone low. “Just putting that out there.”