Chapter 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

REYNA

R eyna stood in the shadows of the dimly lit laboratory, her eyes scanning the empty space with practiced efficiency. The faint hum of equipment filled the silence, but her instincts told her this wasn’t just another sterile workspace. This was a battleground—one where secrets could mean the difference between life and death.

She moved silently, her boots making no sound on the tiled floor as she approached a desk cluttered with papers and data drives. Lyndsey’s research team had scattered when the danger started, but Reyna knew someone had stayed behind to clean—or cover—up.

Pulling on a pair of gloves, she rifled through the files. Most of it was innocuous—notes on nanobot applications, clinical trials, projections. But tucked beneath a thick folder labeled Prototype Analysis was a small USB drive. Her lips curved into a smile.

“Bingo.”

She pocketed the drive, her instincts already tingling. Whoever had left this behind was either careless or overconfident, and Reyna had learned long ago that arrogance often hid something worth digging into. As she turned to leave, the sound of footsteps echoed down the hall. Her body tensed.

A shadow appeared in the doorway. Dr. Aaron Klein, one of Lyndsey’s senior colleagues, stepped into view. Lyndsey had gone through those involved in the project with both Reyna and Jake, showing them professional and casual pictures so they could identify them. His normally polished appearance was slightly disheveled, his eyes darting around the room before landing on Reyna.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” he demanded, his voice sharp but edged with nervousness.

Reyna crossed her arms, her posture casual but ready. “Reyna Marx with Cerberus. And it’s funny, but I was about to ask you the same thing.”

Klein hesitated, his gaze flicking toward the desk she’d been searching. “I... I came back to retrieve some personal files. You have no right to be here.”

“Really? Ask yourself how I got in here. I’ll tell you. Lyndsey gave me her security card and access code. What personal files?” Reyna arched a brow, her tone dripping with disbelief. “Like this?” She held up the USB drive, watching as his face paled.

“That’s classified,” he stammered, stepping closer.

“Classified? By who? You aren’t a government agency, and this isn’t a government project. So, it might be confidential, but it isn’t classified.”

“You have no idea what you’re messing with.”

“Oh, I think I do,” Reyna said, her voice turning icy. “This isn’t just about research, is it? Someone’s been feeding information to Victor Lang, who, in case you didn’t know, has ties to some pretty nefarious individuals. And whoever is giving Lang the information is someone close to Lyndsey.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Klein snapped, but the flicker of panic in his eyes betrayed him. “You have no proof.”

“Not yet,” Reyna admitted, slipping the drive into her jacket pocket. “But I will. Unless you want to save me the trouble and tell me what you know.”

Klein’s jaw tightened, his hands clenching at his sides. “You don’t understand. This isn’t about betrayal—it’s about survival. Lang... he doesn’t give you a choice.”

Reyna took a step closer, her voice dropping. “You always have a choice. You just didn’t have the guts to make the right one.”

Klein’s face twisted with anger, and before Reyna could react, he lunged at her. She sidestepped his attack easily, grabbing his arm and twisting it behind his back. He cried out in pain as she shoved him against the wall.

“Big mistake,” Reyna growled, but her victory was short-lived.

The sound of heavy boots echoed down the hallway. She turned just in time to see two large men enter the lab, their faces grim and their weapons drawn. She recognized them instantly—two of the members of Lang’s crew.

“Well, this just got interesting,” she muttered under her breath.

The larger of the two men raised a gun, but Reyna moved faster. She shoved Klein aside and ducked behind a lab table as the first shot rang out, shattering glass and sending papers flying. Grabbing a metal stool, she hurled it at the man, knocking the weapon from his hand.

The second man lunged at her, but she caught his arm and twisted, slamming him into the table. The fight was fast and brutal—punches and kicks landing with bone-crunching force. Reyna’s years of training gave her the edge, but these weren’t amateurs. They fought like men who’d seen their share of violence.

Klein tried to make a run for it, but Reyna caught him out of the corner of her eye. “Not so fast, Doc,” she snarled, kicking a rolling chair into his path and sending him sprawling.

The larger man recovered his weapon, aiming it at her as she grappled with the second. Reyna grabbed a tray of instruments and flung it at him, the distraction giving her just enough time to disarm her current opponent and take him down with a sharp elbow to the jaw.

The first man cursed, firing off another shot that grazed her shoulder as she dove behind a counter. Blood seeped into her jacket, but she didn’t let it slow her down. Her eyes landed on the emergency exit at the far end of the lab.

“Time to bail,” she muttered.

With a sudden burst of speed, Reyna sprinted for the door, dodging bullets as they ricocheted off the walls. She burst into the alley behind the lab, her eyes scanning for a way out. That’s when she spotted it—a sleek black motorcycle parked a few feet away.

“Perfect.”

Reyna vaulted onto the bike, hot-wiring it in seconds as the sound of shouting grew louder behind her. The engine thundered into life, and she sped off into the night, weaving through traffic with the USB drive burning a hole in her pocket.

The adrenaline coursing through her veins didn’t fade until she reached Cerberus headquarters, the familiar sight of the club’s neon sign sending a wave of relief through her. She parked the bike in the alley and slipped inside, her mind already racing with what she’d found.

Lang’s operation was bigger than they’d realized. And if they were going to stop it, they’d have to outsmart him at his own game.

But first, she needed to see Jake and Lyndsey. This fight was far from over.

Reyna stalked into the Cerberus headquarters, her leather jacket still smeared with dirt and a faint trace of blood from the fight. Her adrenaline hadn’t fully worn off, and her mind buzzed with the images of the confrontation—the USB drive, Lang’s men, the chaotic escape.

King met her at the main desk, his sharp eyes narrowing as she handed over the USB. “This better be worth it,” Reyna muttered. “Lang’s men were all over the place. Klein’s in deep, and I had to knock some heads just to get out alive.”

King smiled, taking the USB and slipping it into his pocket. “We’ll see what’s on here. You did good, Reyna. Go get cleaned up.”

Reyna rolled her eyes. “I know the drill. I’ll be in the dungeon if you need me.”

As she turned to leave, she caught sight of Jake and Lyndsey across the room. Lyndsey’s curious gaze followed her, and Reyna resisted the urge to groan. She didn’t need an audience right now.

“What’s her deal?” she heard Lyndsey ask Jake, her voice low but not low enough.

Jake gave Reyna a knowing look as she passed. “She’s heading down to decompress.”

“Decompress?” Lyndsey asked, furrowing her brow. “What does that mean?”

Reyna groaned as she passed Jake—he could deal with her. He tilted his head toward the staircase leading to the club’s lower levels. “Come on,” he said. “If you’re curious, you can observe, and I can explain.”

She knew Jake was falling for Lyndsey and also knew that Jake’s need to be a Dom was at least as great, if not greater, than her own need to submit. If Lyndsey couldn’t understand that and reconcile with it, their relationship was doomed. Reyna liked Jake, and if watching her session could help him win Lyndsey over, then she was happy to do it.

Reyna didn’t bother turning around as Jake and Lyndsey trailed after her. She pushed through the heavy double doors into the dungeon portion of the club, the dim lighting and soft hum of music immediately wrapping her in a familiar calm. The air smelled faintly of leather and candle wax, soothing her raw and frayed nerves. She headed into the submissives’ lounge, opening her locker and slipping into her fet wear. The feeling of the corset being tightened help to ground her.

When she exited the lounge, Reyna watched as Lyndsey hesitated as she stepped inside the club, her eyes widening at the sight of the sprawling space. An ornate St. Andrew’s cross was on the center stage. Lining the walls were ropes, floggers, and other implements of discipline. Doms and subs moved gracefully through the room, some engaged in scenes, others simply observing.

Reyna ignored them all, heading straight for the session sign-up board. She jotted her name down next to one of the resident Dom’s slots and leaned against the wall to wait.

Lyndsey tugged on Jake’s sleeve. “Why is she doing this?”

Jake guided Lyndsey to a private viewing area above the main floor, offering a clear view of the scene Reyna was about to take part in. “You’ll have to ask her yourself.”

Reyna glanced up, catching their movement out of the corner of her eye. She sighed and waved them over. “If you’re going to stare, you might as well make it less creepy.”

Lyndsey flushed but stepped closer. “I wasn’t staring.”

“You were,” Reyna said, smirking. “What’s up, Doc? Got questions?”

Lyndsey hesitated before nodding. “I don’t understand. You’re... so strong. Why would you want to... submit to someone?”

Reyna raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “You think submission makes me weak?”

“No,” Lyndsey said quickly. “That’s not what I meant. I just... it’s not something I’ve ever thought about.”

Reyna leaned against the wall, crossing her arms. “Let me ask you something, Lyndsey. You’ve spent your whole life being the one in charge, haven’t you? Managing teams, making decisions, holding all the responsibility.”

Lyndsey nodded slowly. “Yes.”

“And how much pressure does that put on you? How often do you wish someone else would take the reins, just for a little while?”

Lyndsey blinked, her expression softening. “I... I don’t know. Maybe more often than I’d like to admit.”

Reyna’s lips tipped up into a small, knowing smile. “That’s why I do this. When I’m down here, I don’t have to think about the next move, the next threat, or who’s counting on me. I let it all go. The ropes, the impact, the commands—it’s freedom in its purest form. It’s not about weakness. It’s about trust.”

Lyndsey considered her words, her curiosity mingling with a touch of understanding. “And the adrenaline? From earlier?”

“It gets burned off here,” Reyna said simply. “Fighting and running—it jacks you up. A good session brings me back down. Balance.”

Before Lyndsey could respond, the Dom Reyna had signed up with approached. He was tall and lean, his demeanor commanding but calm. “Reyna,” he said, his deep voice a quiet authority. “Are you ready?”

“Always,” Reyna said, her grin returning. She turned back to Lyndsey. “Stay and watch if you want. It might give you some perspective.”

Jake pulled Lyndsey back toward the private viewing area. “Come on. If you’re going to learn, you might as well have the best seat in the house.”

Reyna stepped into the center of the room, letting the Dom guide her into position. As the scene began, Lyndsey couldn’t seem to look away, her earlier confusion giving way to fascination. Jake leaned against the railing beside her, his expression unreadable.

“Cross your arms behind your back, in a U shape,” the Dom softly commanded.

Reyna let out a sigh of relief as she obeyed, her arms folded tightly together with her fingers pointing towards opposite elbows. This position accentuated her breasts. The Dom carefully tied them up with a double column bind and passed the rope around her waist. In the dimly lit room, her skin seemed to radiate.

The Dom worked meticulously, using soft ropes that felt gentle against her skin. He secured the rope with an overhand knot at the front. He tied another knot halfway between her breasts and throat. As he moved the ropes over her shoulders and around her arms, he gently traced the scars that covered her body. At one time she had hated them, now they represented resilience and served as a testament of her survival.

His hands moved slowly and purposefully. By the time he was finished, she was adorned in an intricate tortoiseshell pattern. He passed the rope under her arms and back around to her breasts, causing her nipples to harden in response to the sensation. He gently grazed the rope with his fingers as he tightened it just enough for her to feel it without cutting off circulation but that would leave a beautiful imprint on her skin even after they were removed.

Reyna remained perfectly still as she found peace under his skillful knots. He brought the rope down over her breasts, lifting and shaping them as he knelt down to tie off the design. And she slipped quietly into a place that wasn’t quite subspace, but a peaceful one that would allow her to decompress.