"Isthat a threat,Mr.Treasurer?"
"It’sa projection," he says, shifting gears as the truck roars up the mountain. "I’mgoing to own every inch of you."
10
ELIAS
Thesteel door booms shut.
Thesound carries a finality that settles in my marrow—afour-inchslab of reinforced metal sealing us away from theFeds, theCostas, and the chaotic noise of theClubhouseupstairs.Thelocking mechanism engages with a heavy, hydraulic hiss followed by three distinct clanks.Iusually count them to find my center, but the numbers don't bring me peace tonight.They’rejust background static.
Theonly thing that matters stands right in front of me.
Mia.
Sheleans against the nearest bank of servers, the blueLEDlights from the towers casting an artificial glow across her features.Shelooks wrecked.Beautifully, thoroughly wrecked.Herhair is a mess from the wind outside theCozyCup, her lips are swollen from whereIkissed her in front of half the town, and she’s still clutching the master keyIgave her like it’s a lifeline.
Itis a lifeline, but not for her.It’sfor me.
"Elias?"Hervoice is soft, echoing slightly in the acoustic dead zone of theVault.
"Lockit,"Icommand, my voice grinding like gravel in a mixer.
Sheblinks. "I... you already locked it."
"Themanual override,"Isay, closing the distance between us. "Throwthe bolt,Mia.Idon't want anyone getting in.NotLogan.NotShane.NotGodhimself."
Shedoesn't hesitate.Herhand reaches for the red lever next to the keypad and shoves it down.Thesecondary deadbolts slam home with a sound akin to a gunshot.
Perfect.
Weare sealed in.Sanctuary.Abreeding ground.
Iclose the gap in two strides.Theair in here is filtered and sterile, usually smelling of ozone.Now, it’s thick with her.Grapefruit.Salt.Thesharp, intoxicating musk of her drenched pussy.She’salready soaked for me, the scent filling the sterile air.Sheis the woman who took my black-and-white world and bled neon pink all over it.
"Theaudit is over,"Itell her, crowding her space until her back hits the humming server tower.
Shelooks up, her eyes wide. "Webalanced the books.Wecleared my name."
"Idon't give a shit about the books."
Iburned eight months of my life's work for her.Irewrote history with a fountain pen and a bottle of ink just to keep her out of a cell.Iwould do it again.Iwould burn the whole damn clubhouse down if it kept her warm.
"You'renot going anywhere,"Igrowl, bracing my hands on the metal casing on either side of her head. "Youhave the key, but you're never using it to leave me."
"Iknow," she whispers.Herpulse thumps violently in her throat.Itrack the little flutter of skin—thump-thump, thump-thump.Icould calculate her heart rate by sight alone.
Instead,Ilower my head and press my mouth to that pulse point.Shetastes like syrup.Shetastes like she belongs to me.
"Tellme,"Idemand against her throat. "Tellme who you belong to."
"Elias..."
"Sayit."Ibite down, not gently.Iwant to leave a mark.Abrand. "Sayit so even the shadows inside this cage can hear you."
"Yours," she gasps, her hands gripping the front of my cut, bunching the leather. "I'myours."
Thatword snaps the last thread of my restraint.
