Max’s phone buzzed sharply, slicing through the quiet like a blade.He groaned softly, shifting just enough to free one arm from the warm tangle of limbs curled around him.Lake was draped over him like a blanket, his cheek pressed against Max’s shoulder, lips parted slightly in sleep. One of his arms hung loosely across Max’s chest, the other tucked possessively around his waist—as if letting go wasn’t an option, even in sleep.Max didn’t move.Didn’t breathe.The screen lit up again. He watched it flicker from the nightstand, the harsh glow casting a pale halo in the dim room. His hand hovered, but he let the call ring out.Instead, he let his eyes drift downward, slowly tracing the soft curve of Lake’s jaw, the faint flutter of his lashes, the even rise and fall of his chest. He looked peaceful for once—like the world outside had finally gone silent.But peace was short-lived.The phone buzzed again, more urgent this time. Max cursed under his breath and carefully stretched his han
She didn’t dare breathe. Monica pressed herself deeper into the shadow of the tree, rough bark scraping her spine. Her hand clamped over her mouth so tightly her fingers were starting to cramp, but the trembling wouldn’t stop. Not in her limbs. Not in her chest. Her heartbeat was loud enough, she feared it might echo. The woods had fallen eerily silent, as if even the wind was holding its breath. Crunch. A footstep. Then another. He was closer. She heard him mutter under his breath. The way twigs snapped beneath his boots. The rustling of leaves as he parted branches. She slowly crouched lower, eyes darting around the forest floor. Dry leaves. Moss. A broken stick nearby, but too brittle to be useful. Her throat was dry, her legs coiled tight like a spring. “I know you’re out here, sweetheart,” the man called out suddenly, voice dark and amused. “Why don’t you come out before you step into something worse?” Monica flinched. He didn’t sound winded anymore. He soun
Monica’s eyelids fluttered open, light slicing into her skull like a blade. A groan slipped from her lips as the throb behind her temples pulsed harder. Her muscles screamed in protest, as though she’d been hit by a truck and left to rot. She shifted, or tried to. The sharp bite of rope cut into her wrists, yanking her fully awake. “What the…” Her voice cracked, dry and hoarse. Her arms were pinned behind her back, wrists bound tightly. She looked down—one leg bent awkwardly, the other strapped to a wooden chair leg. The coarse rope dug into her skin like sandpaper. She winced. “Fuck,” she hissed, twisting. The rope only scraped deeper. The room swam into focus. Bare walls, a single bed with sheets askew, and a chipped center table. On the cabinet: two empty glasses. A bottle of wine, half-drained, stood like an accusation. Someone had been here. Recently. Her gaze darted to the window—curtains drawn, nailed shut from the inside. The air was stale, tinged with old perfu
The door clicked open with a soft chime as Adriana stepped inside, her heels clicking sharply against the glossy marble floor. She paused in the doorway, eyes sweeping the decadent space—chandeliers dripping from the ceiling, velvet furniture draped in gold accents, and a panoramic view of the glittering skyline beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. Brie was already waiting. She lounged across a velvet chaise in a backless silk dress, a glass of rosé in one hand and a remote in the other, casually flipping through fashion week highlights on a muted TV screen mounted across the room. Adriana shut the door behind her with a slam. “When you told me to meet you at this penthouse,” Adriana said, stalking forward with crossed arms, “I didn’t know you did something useful with the money you stole from Liam’s company.” Brie didn't flinch. Instead, she offered a soft smile and lifted her glass lazily. “You’re welcome to sit. Or judge. I enjoy both equally.” Adriana scoffed and remai
“It’s been over four goddamn hours and you’re telling me she’s vanished into thin air? Not a single camera caught anything?” Spencer’s voice thundered through the office like a storm, slamming against the walls as the two uniformed officers stiffened under the pressure.“We’re doing everything we can, Mr. McKenzie,” one of them said cautiously. “But the details you gave us are limited. We need more time.”Spencer’s jaw clenched, veins tightening at his temples. “Time?” he spat. “She was taken from under our noses. You had one job—track her. You can’t even do that?”“Sir,” the second officer stepped in, trying to keep things civil. “We understand your concern, but your tone—”“Don’t lecture me on tone,” Spencer cut in, eyes blazing. “Just get out. Both of you.”The first officer’s lips thinned. “Out of respect for your situation, we’ll overlook the disrespect this time. But be mindful, Mr. McKenzie. You’re not above the law.”They turned and left stiffly, closing the office door behind
“But we need to talk about Anthony,” Max said gently, voice dipping low as his eyes searched Lake’s face.“I don’t want to.” Lake stepped back, trying to shake off the weight in his chest—and Max’s touch.Max didn’t let go so easily.He grabbed Lake’s wrists and pinned them softly but firmly above his head, stepping into his space. “You don’t want to?” Max murmured, leaning in.His lips brushed Lake’s neck—warm, hungry. He pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive curve, dragging his tongue down to the hollow of Lake’s collarbone.Lake let out a breathy moan, twisting slightly beneath his grip. “Max…”“Are you turned on?” Max teased, lips brushing over the quickening beat in Lake’s throat.Lake’s mouth parted, but instead of words, he lunged forward, desperate for another kiss. Max pulled back just an inch—just enough to deny him.He grinned.“That’s all for now,” he said, voice low and wicked. “You want more…” His thumb skimmed Lake’s bottom lip. “Then talk to me.”“Bastar