“What did the little prick say?” The drug acts fast, already slurring Fraser’s speech. “Whatever it was, ’s a lie.” His eyelids grow heavy. “Heeee’s a liar. Always hassss been.”
“He hasn’t said a damn thing,” I growl while casting glances around the parking garage. “His injuries told me everything I needed to know.”
Same as hers.
Memories of a bleeding, scared, and wounded Lilith slam into me. The reminder of how I almost lost her sends a fresh jolt of red-hot hate through me.
Somehow, I manage to swallow it down.
If I lose my ever-loving mind, I’ll fuck up.
Fucking up will end with me leaving this parking garage in cuffs.
That means being separated from Lilith for years, if not a lifetime.
Never.
“And injuries”—I return my attention to the douchebag and yank up the handbrake—“don’t lie. Ever.”
“You’ll never get away with this.”
“Yes, I will.” I pull out the syringe, cap it, and shove it into my sweatshirt pocket. “Because once I click this…”
Since this isn’t the first luxury car I’ve been in, I swipe through the display, looking for…
This.
The moment I press the button, the glass darkens just enough to obscure the interior. Anyone outside will see nothing but a silhouette as I drive past, cameras included.
“You’re mine,” I say to the knocked-out Fraser. “No one’s coming to save you. No one.”
22
ALARIC
After knocking Fraser out, I wipe the tracking from his phone, laptop, and car, throw him in the back, then drive. Parking security waves me through, and I pull out of NewFra Cyber’s garage.
Free as a bird.
And I plan on staying that way. That’s why I head straight for the alley I picked out last night after getting rid of Harold, one with a blind spot in the city cameras. It’s where I stashed a duffel bag behind a dumpster for today.
Once I get there, I pack Fraser up. It takes some maneuvering, but I’m used to it. Same as I’m used to dragging a heavy duffel through Manhattan without anyone batting an eye.
“Home sweet home,” I say as I finally lower Fraser’s unconscious body into the chair in my storage unit.
Naturally, he doesn’t reply. He stays silent while I pull my gloves on, wipe my prints off him, tie him up, and slap a strip of duct tape over his mouth.
As if I give a damn whether he answers or not.
Lilith. She’s the only thing that matters. The one I miss as if I haven’t seen her in days.
That’s why, as soon as I’m done with Fraser, I remove one of my gloves, pull my phone from my jeans, and text her.
Me:Miss you.
Sure, she hasn’t texted or left a voicemail all day.
So what?