All Chapters of THE CEO'S STOLEN SECONDS : Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

The steel doors on the executive elevator slid open, and Christian and I stormed into the penthouse suite like ghosts breaking free from a tomb. My heart was pounding in my chest as we raced down the plush, carpeted hallway. The walls, covered in pricey oil paintings and polished mahogany, looked more like a prison than a show of wealth. The cold, damp fabric from my ripped silk blouse stuck to my shoulder—a brutal reminder of the chaos we’d left behind in the server room."Stay behind me, Sierra," Christian ordered, his voice low and threatening.He never slowed. His strides were huge, shoulders squared like he was about to knock down a wall. The white bandages around his wrists were marked with fresh blood, but his face was stone. When he reached the frosted-glass doors marked BOARDROOM A, he didn’t knock—he slammed his palms into the handles, throwing them open with a crash so loud it echoed off the high ceilings.The whole room stopped.Twelve pairs of eyes snapped to us. Victoria

"Give me both," I said, my voice slicing right through the whine of the overworked generators.I didn't bother waiting for Christian to protest. I grabbed the silver flash drive from his hand and clenched the combat knife's textured hilt with my right. The cold steel was heavy—almost reassuring, somehow, as panic clawed through my veins. I stuffed the drive deep into my blazer pocket and zipped it shut."We save our son first," I whispered, locking eyes with him. "Then we burn their world to the ground."Christian's jaw flexed and he gave a sharp, approving nod—the first cracks in his tough exterior. "Ninety seconds, Sierra. Keep up."We tore back into the bright, animal-painted hallway, our bare feet slapping the linoleum. The digital clock on the wall was relentless: 1:42... 1:41... Christian didn't go for the stairs. He bolted straight for the elevator bank. The main silver doors were sealed, a red bar glowing across the touchpads—security override.Christian didn't waste a second

"Stop the elevator!" I yelled, slamming my hands against the steel control panel as hard as I could.The metal doors had barely closed, but I shoved my weight against the emergency stop button. The elevator screeched to a halt between the sub-basement and the first floor, the sudden shock throwing me into the wall. Lights overhead flickered, wild shadows dancing over Leo’s gurney."Mrs. King, what are you doing?" the paramedic shouted, reaching out to steady the stretcher as it slid toward the corner. "Your son has to get to pediatric ICU now! His heart rate’s spiking!""Look at him!" I begged, my voice breaking into a rough, breathless sob while I crawled across the floor. My bare feet left streaks of blood on the gray linoleum, the pain from my cut toes lost in the chaos. "Look at his eyes! He’s not awake! Someone drugged him!"Christian lunged forward, his big frame absorbing the hit from the elevator’s stop. His hand, still smeared with blood from his wounded shoulder, gripped the

"Hold on!" Christian shouted into the headset, his voice somehow louder than the chaos of the helicopter engines as the Sikorsky suddenly tipped down toward the wild gray sea.A wall of wind slammed into us, knocking the cabin sideways at a terrifying angle. For a split second, I felt weightless, almost floating above my seat. My hands instinctively grabbed at the console, nails sinking in as the harness snapped tight across my chest, bruising my collarbone. Through streaks of rain on the glass, the North Pacific waves looked like a field of broken black glass, rising fast, ready to swallow us whole."The tracking signal isn’t Julian’s yacht!" I screamed, my voice cracking with panic. I thrust the satellite phone’s glowing screen toward Christian and the pilot, my fingers shaking so much I nearly dropped the thing right onto the pedals. "The depth’s climbing from nine hundred feet! Christian, there’s a submarine coming up under his hull!"Christian whipped his head around, his face dr

"Get away from that monitor!" I screamed, throwing my full weight against the reinforced glass door. My shoulders screamed back at me, but the door held solid. Inside Leo’s room, the two federal tech-agents jerked away from the monitor, boots skidding over the linoleum. They spun to face me, eyes wide, stuck between staring at my blood-streaked hands on the glass and the TV’s glow—a cold, perfect white, unnatural and bright.On the monitor, someone stood behind Victoria King’s wheelchair. That shadow stepped into the harsh lighting of the D.C. medical suite. His shoulders were broad but slumped, every line of his body heavy with exhaustion you could almost feel. His wrists, once wrapped in white bandages, now sported thick, dark waterproof covers. His black leather jacket left a trail of saltwater across the smooth floor.“Christian,” I choked out. My forehead pressed flat to the icy window, breath clouding the glass. My heart slammed so hard it hurt, relief washing over me for one di