This was worse than I’d thought.
I shoved the phone back in my pocket.
My little lamb had no clue.
She thought she was just spinning around a pole for tips and cheers.
She didn’t know the wolves were already surrounding her.
Or that now I was one of them.
Watching her sleep.
Protecting her without her permission.
Wanting her more than I fucking should.
Chapter eight
One last look through the slats of Lyla’s blinds confirmed she was asleep. God, she was serene now, curled on her side with that book next to her, her breathing slow and even, like she didn’t have a single worry in the world. A faint smile played on her lips—sweet, vulnerable. She looked like something out of a fairy tale, except no prince was coming.
Just a monster watching from the dark.
The metal of the fire escape creaked under my weight as I shifted to leave. I had to fight the instinct to stay.
I pulled out my phone and fired off a text—Come get me—and shared my location.
As soundlessly as possible, I descended one level at a time. The last stretch was a short jump to the ground. Once I’d hit the pavement, I adjusted my coat and started walking toward the opening of the alley.
Within minutes, a sleek black Escalade rolled to a stop in front of me.
Rory Lynch—my most trusted confidant—was behind the wheel. Our bond ran far deeper than any mere employer–employee relationship. We’d met during our time at Imperial College London, instantly hitting it off. He’d gone on to become an SAS operative while I handled Volkovi Notchi business and honed my more secretive skills.
All six-foot-four of him was a formidable presence, even seated. His dirty-blond hair was neatly buzzed at the sides, and his emerald-green eyes—almost always twinkling with playful mischief—were serious now as he gave me a silent nod of greeting. Rory was big and beefy, a walking advertisement for controlled power. He could crack jokes and charm women with ease, but when it came to business, he was all focus and lethal efficiency.
A few months ago, he’d moved to Manhattan without hesitation, abandoning his life in the UK after everything had gone sideways with my father, with Anastasia, and again after the recent shit in Russia that had forced my sudden departure. No one watched my back like he did. He was my shadow, my driver, always on call. His condo in my building was a testament to his constant proximity and unwavering loyalty.
The front passenger door clicked open, and I climbed in.
“What’s up?” he asked as he pulled into traffic.
“I’ve got a situation,” I said, scrubbing my hand across my chin. “There’s a girl who doesn’t know it, but she’s knee-deep in the underworld, and her only option to survive is for me to pull her out.”
“So, an extract-and-relocate mission. Sounds straightforward enough.” Rory shrugged, glancing over his shoulder as he changed lanes.
“Appears that way on the surface, but it’s more complicated. Normally, I’d never give a girl like her a second thought—she’s a grown woman, and she’d made her own choices. But there’ssomething about her…” My stomach growled. “I’m hungry. Go to Cipher, where we can talk.”
A couple of minutes later, Rory whipped into a spot out front. It was quiet at this hour, and there was only one guy inside, sitting near the window. We moved to the back booth and ordered. Soon we had coffee and sandwiches sitting in front of us.
“You’ve got the thousand-yard stare going. What’s eating at you?” Rory asked, taking a huge bite of his Reuben.
I didn’t reply but instead grabbed my phone, shot off a couple of texts, and called Henri, DarkMatter’s lead man here in the city.
“Hey, man, I need you to keep eyes on the woman at the address I just sent you. It’s her in the picture. Full shadow protocol. No contact. She gets watched twenty-four seven. And I want a crew at her place ready to install surveillance in the kitchen, the hallway, her bedroom, and outside the building. Audio and visual. Nothing cloud-based. Local loop. Our private relay. No digital footprint.”
“Got it,” Henri replied and I ended the call.
Rory cocked a brow at me. After swallowing his next bite and wiping his mouth with a napkin, he leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table. “So…” he said, dragging the word out, “what kind ofsituationhas you lurking in an alley behind some shit apartment in the middle of Hell’s Kitchen? And kicking off full-blown surveillance?”
