Page 67 of Bound

It is wildly inappropriate that a safe word check across from a mafia construction site gives me butterflies.

Twisted. The both of us. We do make a pair.

Rafe speaks again, and every ear listens. “Positions. Vehicle one holds at checkpoint. Vehicle two advances to the new gate when I say. Vehicle three fans left. Vehicle four remains behind until I confirm visual exposure.”

Visual exposure. That means Isobel. The ghost. Me, the queen. Lucian, the king.

And we all pray Carlos will play the part of our pawn.

Carlos’s theater comes to life exactly the way he wrote it. But the Bachmans have an alternative ending. And we’d like a little time on stage.

Gah—he’s making even me dramatic.

Isobel’s SUV moves.

Then ours.

The tires crunch over snow and salt as we roll toward the first gate.

The gate. The one that has never opened. Not once since the rebuild began.

Our SUV stops ten feet from the gate.

Mack opens my door. Cold air rushes in. He’s here with us, instead of with Cass and Ryan. That alone should tell you how much danger we’ve put ourselves in right now.

Lucian is out before I can move, his hand extended and I take it.

The moment my boots touch the ground, every hair on my body rises.

The Village sees me. The cameras. The wires running through old tech lines, creating a feed we hope goes straight to Carlos. I stand in the snow beside Mafia King Lucian Bachman straightening my spine. I toss my hair over my shoulder for good measure so everyone here doesn’t mistake who his queen is.

Look. At. Me.

Blaze exits behind us, coat open despite the cold, one hand near his weapon. I know his first thought is of Cleopatra and if she’s safe in Norway, and if he’ll make it back to her in one piece. All humor is gone from his face.

Love is fun.

Rafe steps out near the lead car. Gregory stays half inside, laptop open against the doorframe. Mack positions himself two steps behind me and to the right.

Close enough that Lucian’s shoulders relax.

Isobel’s vehicle advances. The door opens. The two guards who have become her bookends step out first.

Then Isobel.

Beautiful, sad, vulnerable Isobel.

Carlos wants to know if queens burn better than ghosts. Here we are. Queen. Ghost. King.

Rafe’s voice sounds through the earpiece tucked beneath my hair. “Visual team in place. Gregory?”

Gregory answers, fast and focused. “Old credential is active but not moving. It’s watching for gate engagement.”

“We hope.” Lucian’s jaw flexes.

Everything is riding on one idea; Carlos is waiting for those gates to open.

Rafe says, “Gate one on my mark.”