Chapter 39

39

“I have a visual on Freya,” Abe confirmed, his fists balled hard as Korolov spun her across the dance floor. The arms dealer’s hand gripped her waist, too possessive, pulling her closer than the dance demanded. Every inch closing between them made Abe’s trigger finger itch.

Korolov turned, and for an instant his gaze collided with Abe’s, a knowing curl warping his lips.

Abe puffed his cheeks, searching for a calm that wouldn’t come.

Korolov’s security detail shifted. Three men. Armed. Twelve, three, nine o’clock. Closing in.

“Something’s off.” Abe pushed forward, his pulse ramping.

A burst of static hit his earpiece, then nothing.

“Leo? Zak? Sitrep?” Silence. Total blackout. Fuck.

Cracks split the air like gunshots, slicing through the ballroom chatter as the band paused. A woman screamed. Glass shattered.

The chandeliers surged, then failed in rapid succession, plunging the room into darkness. Emergency lighting kicked in, bathing the room in sickly orange.

Abe’s hand went for the gun under his jacket.

“Leo? Zak?” Still fucking dead. EMP? His eyes darted upward. The hotel security systems were dark. No green lights. Shit.

Explosions detonated across the room, belching thick milk-white smoke. Flashbangs. The conclusive thump of disorientation hit. Voices spiked, panic rippling through the crowd.

Freya.

The caustic stench of burned magnesium seared his throat, his eyes streaming. With no power, there was no clear exit. Bedlam engulfed the ballroom as guests scrambled blind, their screams rising.

His heart stopped cold.

He no longer had eyes on Freya.

Fuck.

“Moving to extract—” Abe’s voice cracked. Freya. I’m coming . The rapid fire beat of his heart left him breathless as he pushed forward, every second without her driving him closer to the edge. Bodies cannoned into him as hysteria escalated, fueled by the choking haze.

His gun was low, muscle memory keeping his finger off the trigger, but his hands shook with scarcely contained violence, ready to eliminate anything that stood between him and Freya.

“Leo, Zak. Where the hell are you?”

Dead comms mocked him with silence.

He rammed through the crush, no longer caring about finesse. Freya might be hurt. Bile burned in his throat.

The crowd surged, a trapped, panicking mass.

Sprinklers erupted, ice-cold water striking him like needles.

The fire alarm’s wail drilled into his skull, and he wanted to shoot the damn thing just to make it stop.

Panic mushroomed.

“Jesus Christ,” he growled, grabbing a fallen woman before she was trampled on the treacherous floor. He hauled two more people to safety, his training warring with his desperation to keep moving. Every second spent helping someone was a second Freya slipped further away. But he couldn’t let people die.

He fought through the barrage of fleeing guests, his soaked clothes dragging at him. He swiped water from his eyes, scared of missing a glimpse of Freya’s hair, the red dress she’d worn tonight. His stomach was a knot of razor wire, tightening with each passing moment.

Fox materialized at his side, his familiar presence offering no comfort against the fear ripping through his chest. “Comms are dead. What the fuck happened?”

“EMP burst.” Abe’s voice was raw as he jerked his chin toward the lifeless security cameras. “Everything’s down. I can’t find her, Fox.”

“MI6 detail?” Fox’s words were razor sharp.

“No contact. Leo and Kat are dark too.”

“Just us then.” Muscle bunched in Fox’s jaw.

Abe halted, water sheeting over him. All he could see was Freya’s face, her smile as she came down the stairs only a few hours ago. “I promised her, Fox,” he whispered, the words lost in the cacophony. “I promised I’d keep her safe.”

The crowd suddenly split, giving him a clear line of sight across the ballroom.

Korolov.

His security detail moved with expert precision, using the frightened guests as mobile cover as they hustled him to an exit. A flash of crimson taunted him.

Freya.

He charged forward, bulldozing the crowd. As a SEAL, he should maintain discipline, call for backup, coordinate, but his feelings for Freya screamed at him to move faster. Damn the consequences.

Bodies bounced off him, his world narrowing to the distance between him and Korolov.

He staggered out of the ballroom, his breath ragged. On the far wall, a fire escape door swung shut. He sprinted toward it, lunging just in time to catch the handle before it sealed. With a grunt, he shoved it open, the metal slamming against the outside wall as he bolted into the night. Rain pelted his face, blurring his vision. Industrial dumpsters created a canyon of yellow metal and shadows in a narrow alley.

Left clear. Right ? —

Tail lights bloomed in the darkness, blood-red against the rain.

“No!” The word tore from his throat. His legs burned as he sprinted toward the vanishing lights.

His earpiece crackled to life, a tsunami of voices rupturing the silence.

“Package is lost, repeat, package is?—”

“Visual contact north of?—”

“Red team, immediate response required?—”

“Leo, no visual on primary?—”

The voices of his team faded to white noise in his earpiece. All he heard was the absence of the one voice he needed. Freya was being taken further from him with every second.

He pitched out of the alley and onto the main street. People were everywhere. Disorientated, milling in confused knots that disrupted his sight lines and slowed the approach of fire engines. Blue emergency lights from police cars sluiced color from the night. The Dorchester’s facade loomed behind him while London traffic flowed in both directions. It was impossible to tell what car Freya might be in.

Fuck.

Rain plastered his clothes to his skin, but he was oblivious to the cold. His gun was useless metal in his hand.

They had Freya. His Freya.

A hand landed on his shoulder.

He spun, the contact serving as touch paper to ignite his fury. “They have her. How the hell did Korolov have an extraction plan this refined?”

Kat jerked backward. The Glock in her hand looked too comfortable. “Diversionary tactics, tranq dart—this was a prepared operation.” Her words cut through the rain. “Someone’s been feeding Korolov intel.”

“I said this was too dangerous—” Something snapped inside him. His pain was unstoppable.

He lunged for Kat.