Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Becks

B ecks' heart beat in her chest like a wild storm at sea, a thundering beat that matched the sound of their footsteps as they made their escape. There was a smell of danger—a sharp, acrid tang that stung her nostrils—the bite of sweat and adrenaline, primal and raw, mingling with the sharp night air, and each shadow seemed heavy with malice and threat. Liam's grip on her arm was like an iron shackle as he dragged her through the campus, using buildings and shadows for cover with a predator's skill and grace.

"Left, now!" His voice was a low growl, but commanding obedience.

They took a hard turn, nearly colliding as the echo of footsteps chased after them like hungry wolves. They might have stalled the hunt of whomever was after them by exiting through the side door, but there had been more assailants waiting for them and were now in full pursuit.

"Who are they?" Becks gasped, the question burning in her chest as they ducked behind a row of dustbins.

"Doesn't matter. We need to shake them off." Liam's eyes were steely blue coals in the dark, scanning for a way out.

They moved again, this time like the shadows in which they hid. The tension between them was electric, a connection forged in adrenaline, fear and the scene they’d shared. Becks noted the controlled power in his movements, the same dominance he had exuded when he’d bound her to the St. Andrew’s Cross and had whispered commands and praise. That same voice and control was now repurposed for survival.

Liam's phone, a secure line to Cerberus, appeared in his hand as if conjured. Hitting the emergency button, he said, "O'Shea here, two tails on us. Need an immediate reroute."

A disembodied voice crackled through. "Got it. Head to safe house. Transport will be waiting for you in a stand of trees at the southern edge of the university. Both HQ and Ashworth's flat have been compromised. We’ll try and create a diversion so you can get away clean."

"Coordinates?" Liam pressed, his thumb hovering over the screen.

"Sending now. Stay dark until there."

"Understood." He ended the call and pocketed the device before turning to Becks, a new plan already forming in his gaze. "We're heading to the coast."

"Is it safe?" Her eyes searched his for reassurance, the scholar within her grappling with the harsh intrusion of reality into her world of texts and translations.

"Safer than here," he said, reassuringly.

As they resumed their escape, Liam's proximity was a paradoxical comfort. His presence was both a shield and a reminder of the peril she found herself in.

"Will we make it?" There was a tremble in her voice she couldn't hide, betraying her fear.

"We will." His assurance was absolute, the alpha within unfazed by the chaos. Becks knew then that whether in the quiet of her office or the chaos of their current predicament, Liam was the master of his domain, unyielding and in control.

As they darted from cover to cover, the city’s cacophony faded into a distant hum, replaced by the thrumming pulse of their intermingled breath and the rush of blood in their ears. With every step, with every narrow evasion of those hunting them, the line between her and her protector, between safety and peril, blurred into a heady, dangerous dance that Becks could not seem to resist.

Becks followed Liam through the trees, her pulse thrumming as the SUV came into view beneath a camo net. He pulled it off with a swift motion, glancing over his shoulder before keying in the entry code and holding the door for her.

“Get in,” he said, voice low and calm.

She slid into the passenger seat, trying to ignore the flutter in her chest as he closed the door, stuffed the netting behind the front seat, and went around to the driver’s side, settling behind the wheel. The door clicked shut, sealing them in the tight space, his presence impossible to ignore.

“Seatbelt, Becks,” Liam murmured.

Her heart skipped a few beats, but she fastened it without a word.

“Good girl,” he murmured, sending a shiver down her spine.

They rolled onto the road, Liam’s hands steady on the wheel, every movement deliberate and in control. Becks shifted in her seat, tension thick between them.

“You trust this route?” she asked.

He shot her a glance, full of heat. “I trust my team.”

Her breath caught, and she turned toward the window, but the tension lingered like a promise waiting to be fulfilled.

By the time they reached the safe house in Hastings, the silence between them felt heavier than any words. Liam killed the engine, his dark gaze locking on hers for a beat too long.

“We’re here,” he said quietly, and Becks knew the real journey had only just begun.

The coastal winds whipped fiercely around the isolated safe house as Becks stepped through its threshold, her body still humming with adrenaline. The past hours had unraveled like the plot of a spy thriller, yet there she stood, the protagonist in a tale that refused to confine itself to the pages of her beloved books.

"Welcome to your temporary abode," Liam intoned as he opened the door to an unremarkable seaside cottage, his voice a low rumble against the howling outside. Once inside, he locked the door behind them with a definitive click, the sound echoing in the stark entryway.

"Temporary abode or gilded cage?" Becks countered, trying for levity but only managing to betray the edge of anxiety that licked at her nerves. She hugged her arms around herself, acutely aware of Liam's towering presence filling the space behind her.

"Neither gilded nor a cage, Becks," he corrected, stepping closer. "Merely a necessary precaution." His gaze held hers, piercing through the dim light, daring her to challenge his words.

"Of course," she said, turning away to mask the tremor in her voice. Her eyes darted across the room, taking in the sparse furnishings and the windows barred against more than just the storm. “Can I set up a workspace?”

"Sure," Liam suggested, guiding her towards a solid oak desk situated against the far wall. There was an unspoken command in his gesture, the dominant part of him asserting control in the midst of her fear.

Becks acquiesced, her fingers trailing over the rough wood grain before she sank into the chair provided. She unpacked her notes and laptop, the familiar items grounding her in a reality rapidly spiraling out of her grasp.

"Will you be able to continue your work here?" Liam asked, his question laced with a concern that belied his commanding exterior.

"Translating is about focus... immersion," Becks replied, her hands hovering above the keyboard. "I'll manage."

"Good." He nodded, satisfaction evident in his tone. "You need to finish translating the rest of that message."

"It isn’t about translating the message, it’s about understanding it," she murmured, eyes flitting to the screen where encrypted text awaited her expertise. "And it's knowing that not doing so correctly could cost lives..."

"Which is why we have to stay ahead of whoever is after us," he interjected, sitting on the edge of the desk, his proximity a palpable force.

"Whose life is it you’re assigned to protect, Liam? Mine or countless others?" Her question hung between them, heavy with implications neither was ready to fully acknowledge.

"Both," he said firmly, the alpha protector surfacing once more. It seemed to be ingrained in him. "But right now, yours is my primary goal."

She felt the weight of his statement, the unspoken bond forming through their shared purpose and peril. His closeness was both a balm and a burn, a paradox she was beginning to crave despite the danger it represented.

"Let me get to work then," Becks declared assertively, her fingers dancing across the keys. As she delved into the cryptic message, translating symbols into warnings, Liam prowled the cottage, keeping watch—a sentinel guarding against the unseen threats that lurked beyond the walls of their refuge.

"Give yourself a minute, Becks. Take a deep breath; I’ll keep you safe," he reassured her, his voice a soft growl that sent shivers down her spine.

She nodded without looking up, her mind already ensnared by the puzzle before her. And yet, beneath her concentration, she was acutely aware of the man who stood ready to defend her—a protector who was as enigmatic as the message she sought to translate and decipher.

Hours later, Becks' fingers halted mid-stroke on the keyboard, a sudden awareness creeping over her. The room was silent except for the soft hum of the computer and her own heightened breathing. She scanned the safe house's interior, noting Liam had set up another workstation with two monitors that showed the entire area around the cottage. Apparently, cameras were placed all around the outside of the house, and she could see him monitoring the live feed.

"I’ve got all the cameras up and running," Liam announced, emerging from the shadows where he had been working discreetly. The sight of him, all broad shoulders and quiet intensity, sent an involuntary shiver through Becks. There was something deeply commanding about his presence, a dominance that seemed to echo his role in the hidden alcoves of the BDSM lifestyle they both frequented. It was ridiculous, but all she could think in that moment was that she wished she’d had sex with him after their scene.

"Good," Becks replied, trying to steady her voice. "I feel...safer."

He gave her a nod, the faintest curve at the corner of his mouth hinting at approval. "You're not the only one," he said, his gaze lingering on her with what she hoped was either respect for her intellect or his wishing the same thing as she just had.

"Speaking of which..." Her attention returned to the screen before her. With every keystroke, she unraveled more of the cryptic message she'd been entrusted to translate. The symbols slowly yielded their secrets, revealing ominous portents that tightened her chest with anxiety.

"Anything?" Liam asked, his voice low and laced with urgency.

"Perhaps. It's about Rovena."

"Rovena?”

“Rovena Lovari."

His posture stiffened, alertness sharpening his features. "What about her?"

"Her name... it's embedded within the code," Becks said, frowning as she parsed the text. "It's subtle, but deliberate. I think she may be in danger."

"Damn it." Liam's curse was a whisper lost in the tension that filled the room.

"Can we contact her?"

"Not directly. We can't risk the exposure, but..."

"I don’t care about the exposure," she interjected as he moved closer.

His proximity was like a magnetic field, pulling her into an orbit she wasn't sure she wanted to escape. "We need to know if she's compromised without compromising your safety."

"I understand that, but Rovena is my friend. She isn’t necessarily going to trust anyone else," Becks replied, her pulse quickening under the weight of his stare.

His hand reached out, brushing against hers with a touch that was both protective and possessive. The contact ignited a flame that Becks fought to contain, knowing it could consume them both if unleashed at the wrong moment. But it was there, the unspoken offer of restraint and release if she needed it. The man was an experienced Dom as well as an operative and apparently, he could read her like a book.

"Keep working on the message," Liam said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I'll see if we can’t get a message to her within the security protocols for keeping you safe."

"Don’t you just have some kind of secure phone?" she asked, her focus returning to the enigma on the screen. But even as she deciphered the dark omens woven into the text, part of her remained worried about her friend and acutely conscious of the man who stood watching over her—a man whose complexities were as captivating as the riddles she sought to solve.

“Give it time, Becks. We can pick this up tomorrow.”

“Rovena?”

“I’ll get word to Cerberus. Go to bed.”

“But…”

“Bed, Becks.”

She closed down her system and headed into the bedroom. When she started to close the door, he shook his head. “Leave it open.”

Stubbornly, she closed it and started to pull off her clothes.

The door opened, and Liam stuck his head inside. “Open.”

The next day, Becks paced the length of the main room, her strides measured and deliberate, a stark contrast to the turmoil swirling inside her. The safe house, perched on the rugged coast, was like a tiny fortress. She imagined it could easily withstand an assault. Strong as it was, though, it couldn't shield her from the urgency gnawing at her conscience.

"I’ve thought about this all night, Liam,” she asserted, turning sharply to face him. “I don’t care about your protocol; Rovena is in serious danger. Whoever attacked us at my office could be after Rovena as well. If these people are terrorists, they won’t think twice about killing her."

Liam leaned against the cold stone wall, arms folded over his chest, his eyes hard as the sea during a storm. "And what do you propose? I got a message to Cerberus that she’s in danger.”

Becks shook her head. “If Rovena is spooked or has any idea she’s in danger, she isn’t going to listen to anyone she doesn’t know. From her standpoint, the terrorists could tell her the same thing.”

“We can’t just broadcast our position. We'd be sitting ducks, Becks."

"Better than being cowardly lions," she retorted, the fire in her eyes reflecting her resolve. "I won't sit here while she...”

"Your heart's in the right place," he interjected, stepping closer, his presence overwhelming. "But your head is clouded by emotion."

"Emotion?" Becks' voice rose, a crackle of anger lacing her words. "This isn't about emotion; it's about doing what's right." Her frustration and unspoken desire seemed to be simmering just beneath the surface. Liam's gaze dropped to her lips for a fleeting moment before meeting her eyes again—was he feeling the same way?

"Doing what's right can get you killed in this game," he said, his voice a low growl that seemed, nonetheless, to caress her skin. "We need to be smart about this."

"Then help me be smart, not paralyzed by fear," she pleaded. “I can’t just do nothing. If something happened to her, I’d never forgive myself.”

Before Liam could say anything else, Becks’ laptop chirped, indicating a message. They both turned to face the screen.

Liam moved between her and the computer, inserting a flash drive to download the message through the secure network it contained. “Anyone seeing Rovena’s message won’t be able to trace it to us.”

"It’s Rovena," she confirmed, taking his place at the computer. "She's sent a coded message. It's layered, complex… it’s going to take me a little time…"

"Let me see." Liam brushed past Becks, his shoulder grazing hers, sending a surge of arousal through them both.

Becks scanned the message and grinned, her mind translating symbols and patterns with innate skill.

"It’s Romany—the same language the terrorists have been using.”

“I thought you worked in ‘obscure’ languages,” he said.

“Romany is considered somewhat obscure, as it isn’t used as much as other languages. Its use is widespread, but it can be easily confused with Slavic or Indic languages. It also draws elements from various other languages, including Hindi, so it can be misclassified and evade recognition. Once I figured out what it was, it just became about trying to understand it. It wasn’t like it was some kind of cipher. Damn it," she muttered under her breath. "Rovena’s not just in danger; it looks like she might be part of the puzzle itself. We have to act now, Liam. With or without protocol."

“I got a message to Cerberus last night, they can pick her up.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “My guess is Rovena has already taken steps to get herself out of harm’s way. She isn’t going to go with or listen to anyone she doesn’t know. So, you’re stuck with me.”

Liam watched her, something akin to admiration flickering in his eyes. "All right," he conceded, the word heavy with the significance of his decision. "But we do it my way. Understood?"

"Understood," Becks agreed, her voice a quiet combination of steel and silk. They stood side by side, two enigmas wrapped in shadows, ready to defy the odds and confront the darkness as one.