Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 80451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Isabel scrambles backward, breath ragged, tears streaking her face. I catch her gaze for an instant. Relief and exhaustion war across her features. Sophia crouches next to her, eyes brimming with tears.
Dean rushes up behind me, panting, gun drawn. He sees Sophia, sees her battered state, and a choked sound leaves his throat. He nearly trips over in his haste to get to her. “Soph,” he gasps, dropping to his knees beside her. She collapses into his arms, sobbing. He holds her, face etched with raw emotion. “I’m here, I’ve got you,” he breathes.
Morris struggles under my weight, but my hold doesn’t waver. “They’ll kill you for this,” he rasps, voice muffled against the floor. “Lazarus—”
“Lazarus is done,” I snap, though I’m not sure if that’s fully true. But in this moment, I need the bastard in front of me to understand I’m not letting him slip away. “We got the police. Your men are down, you lost.”
He curses, thrashing, but I keep him pinned until two uniformed cops burst in, guns raised. They rush over, hooking handcuffs around his wrists while I step off. My shoulders sag with relief.
My attention snaps to Isabel. She’s shaking, eyes glistening. I rush over, gently lifting her chin to check for injuries. My heart cracks at the bruises and the fear in her eyes. “Iz,” I whisper, voice thick, “you’re safe now.”
She lets out a ragged sob, flinging her arms around me. The tension in my chest breaks. I bury my face in her hair, cradling her trembling form against me. Her warmth, the smell of sweat and tears—every second is a confirmation that she’s alive, that we made it in time.
“I was so scared,” she mumbles into my shoulder. “He… Lazarus… they said they’d ship us abroad—” Another sob wracks her. “I thought you’d never find us.”
I press my lips to her temple, breathing in the reality of her presence. “I promised I’d protect you,” I rasp. My own tears sting the corners of my eyes, but I blink them away. “I’m sorry it took so long.”
She just clings to me, crying softly. Over her head, I see Sophia clutched in Dean’s arms, tears flowing from both of them. Morris is dragged away by the police, cursing. More officers flood the container, guns drawn, while Dean’s security men hold position outside, ensuring no one else from Lazarus’s crew tries anything.
I close my eyes, relief flooding me so powerfully my legs threaten to give out. Isabel is safe. Sophia is safe. All that’s left is to finish cleaning up this nightmare. But for now, I can only hold Isabel, letting the swirling chaos of police and paramedics swirl around us. Her sobs subside into ragged breathing, and she pulls back, teary eyes searching mine.
“You’re hurt,” she says, noticing a cut on my cheek or the bruises forming on my arms. I hadn’t even realized.
I manage a shaky grin. “It’s nothing. Just a scratch.” More than anything, I want to whisk her away from this hellhole, find a quiet place where she can rest. But first, we endure the final aftermath—statements for the police, quick checks by paramedics. We watch as they haul Morris off in cuffs, while other cops and security men track down any remaining hostiles. And we find Lazarus.
Dean carries Sophia out, his expression carved with sorrow and relief. I keep an arm around Isabel, guiding her gently into the fresh night air. The horizon lightens with the approach of dawn, the ocean breeze carrying away some of the stench of gunfire and sweat. We stand there, battered but alive, under the glow of flashing emergency lights.
For a brief moment, Isabel’s gaze meets mine again, silent gratitude and love shining through her exhaustion. I wrap her in an embrace, pressing my lips to her hair. She sighs, nestling against me like she can’t quite believe this ordeal is over.
As paramedics hustle to check them, to treat their bruises and dehydration, I stand guard, scanning the docks for any sign of Lazarus Delgado. If he’s here, the police or Dean’s men will flush him out. If not, we’ll hunt him down another day. Right now, my focus is on Isabel. She’s trembling under the thin blanket a medic drapes around her shoulders.
We lock eyes one more time, the weight of everything we’ve endured sitting between us. I brush a stray tear from her cheek, letting her see the promise in my gaze: I’ll never let anyone take you from me again.
And in the midst of the chaos, sirens wailing and sunrise creeping over the horizon, I realize that promise isn’t just for the mission. It’s for us. Because somewhere along the line, this became about more than just duty. It became about love—and I’m not letting go.
Chapter 28
Isabel
I draw in a steadying breath, pressing myself closer to Lincoln’s side as we step away from the ambulance. The cold night air bites at my skin—still wearing the torn dress from the club—but his warm arm around my shoulders wards off the chill. My heart has barely stopped hammering since we were rescued from that shipping container, but at least now, for the first time in what feels like forever, I can breathe. The swirl of blue and red lights from police cruisers bathes the entire dockyard in a surreal glow, but I try to block it all out, focusing on the comforting solidity of Lincoln’s body next to mine.