Turning to her, Lachlan’s eyes held a mixture of determination and vulnerability that made her heart ache. "This ends tonight," he said, voice low and deadly. "All of it."
Chapter 52
The metal hatch creaked open. Lachlan peered into the darkness below, then glanced back at Britt, holding up three fingers.
Three operatives waiting at the bottom of the ladder, positioned strategically to grab whoever descended first.
A trap.
She wasn’t surprised that The Visitor would have men lying in wait, ready to grab and subdue her with no intention of releasing Paloma.
Lachlan reached into his tactical vest and produced three small spheres no bigger than golf balls.
“Wait here,” Lachlan directed.
Gripping his arms, she stopped him. “You can’t go down there alone. They’ll grab you?—”
“These pods are filled with blue hibiscus powder. They detonate on impact, paralyze the body before rendering targets unconscious," Lachlan whispered.
Britt relaxed, nodding as she released his arm.
Lachlan descended halfway down the metal stairs. Three muted pops in succession before he jumped out of the hatch, closing it once again. He pulled a breathing mask over his face, motioning for Britt to do the same with the one he handed her.
They waited precisely thirty seconds before Lachlan descended again, his movements fluid and silent. Britt followed, heart hammering against her ribs as she climbed down into the belly of her prison.
At the bottom, three street thugs lay sprawled on the ground, their faces contorted in silent panic, eyes darting frantically as Lachlan methodically bound and gagged each one. His movements were precise, practiced—the efficiency of a man who had done this countless times before.
Even in the dim light, she could see the fierce determination etched in every line of his face. This was the man who had protected her and loved her. Now they were side by side, risking everything to save their daughter.
“Do you know the way?” Lachlan asked, staring at the dimly lit maze of corridors.
“Yeah,” Britt said, unable to forget her path to freedom. “This way.”
She walked slowly down the hall, the weight of the situation pressing down upon her like the tons of earth above. As they approached the final turn, Lachlan pulled her close. The warmth of his breath against her ear sent an involuntary shiver down her spine.
"I'll be right behind you," he murmured. "Out of sight. Keep him focused on you, but try to get Paloma positioned near the door. I’ll grab her as soon as she’s in sight.”
Britt nodded, drawing strength from his unwavering determination. They would get their daughter back, but she didn’t know at what cost. “If anything happens to me?—”
“Don’t,” he cut her off, his eyes fierce. “I’m not losing you. I’m getting both of you out of here alive. That’s a promise.”
He gripped her face in his hands as his mouth crashed into hers in a searing kiss, deep, fierce, and possessive. The sensation overwhelmed her senses, buckling her knees as she clung to him.When he pulled away, she had to remind herself to breathe, staring into the eyes of the man she knew she would sacrifice everything for—a reality that was now crystal clear.
Taking a steadying breath, Britt stepped around the corner. The familiar door at the end of the hallway was ajar, a sliver of fluorescent light spilling into the corridor. Her heart stuttered in her chest.
This was it. The room where The Visitor had tried to reshape her identity. The eight-by-six dimensions had been her entire world for over a year. And now, her daughter was inside.
Britt moved forward, Lachlan fading into the shadows behind her. She approached the door, her footsteps deliberately audible. No element of surprise—not with Paloma in danger.
"I'm here," she called out, keeping her voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging inside her. She pushed the door wider with her foot, then stepped into the doorway.
The Visitor's face was exactly as she remembered—handsome in a clinical way, with those kind brown eyes that had once fooled her into thinking he might be an ally. "Please, come in. I have a guest who's been waiting for you."
Britt stepped into the room, her eyes drawn to her daughter. Paloma sat on the twin bed, her small frame dwarfed by what was strapped to her chest—a crude vest of wires and small blocks that could only be explosives. Her dark curls were disheveled, her eyes wide with fear, but otherwise, she appeared unharmed.
"Mommy!" cried Paloma.
The single word shattered something inside Britt. Paloma knew. Somehow, she’d always known the truth.
