In a game of shadows, Becks had found her strength. She was the submissive to Liam's Dominant, yes, but she was also a warrior just as he was. And as the next sequence of events began to unfold, she knew that they were unstoppable.
Suddenly, the room erupted into chaos. The unmistakable staccato of gunfire reverberated, and Becks flinched instinctively, moving toward cover. Bullets whistled past, embedding themselves with deadly accuracy into the walls. She glimpsed Liam, moving with lethal grace, a shadow conjured from nightmares as he engaged their assailants.
"Stay down!" His command cut through the cacophony, a lifeline thrown amidst the storm of violence.
She obeyed, her mind racing even as her body pressed low to the ground. Every sense heightened, Becks analyzed the fray, looking for patterns, opportunities—anything she could use to turn the tide in their favor.
The battle was a maelstrom, a brutal ballet of blood and steel. In this crucible, the trust that existed between them was their greatest weapon.
A figure lunged at Liam, a blade glinting with malice. With a surge of adrenaline, Becks acted, grabbing the steel chair she’d been sitting in and launching herself at the attacker. Their bodies collided, and she felt the jarring impact, the grunt of surprise from the man as she brought the chair down over his head, knocking him out.
"Good girl," Liam praised through gritted teeth, his approval a balm to her soul even as he dispatched another foe.
He pushed her behind a desk he flipped over, giving her some protection.
"Liam, the window!" Becks’ shout pierced his focus, and he turned just in time to see a man with a gun, leaning in.
Time slowed. Liam’s body was already moving before her mind could fully register the danger. He withdrew something from his pocket—a grenade—pulling the pin and lobbing it through the window past the man. The explosion erupted outside, a fiery exclamation mark to the fight.
"Holy shit, Liam..." Becks’ voice was breathless, tinged with awe and something fiercer, something that spoke of the deep, dark bond they shared.
As the smoke cleared, they stood amidst the wreckage, surveying the room. There were numerous bodies on the ground either dead or wounded, but neither Baro nor Hawthorne were among them. As they looked around, they knew this was more than just a mere skirmish; it was the prelude of a battle where both sides would pull back, assess the damage and come up with a new plan.
Liam
The journey back to London unfolded in a haze of exchanged glances and unspoken understanding. As they entered the city, the familiar sights did little to ease the tension that clung to them like a second skin—reminders of the ordeal they had endured together.
Liam leaned back in the worn leather chair, the hum of the air conditioning barely cutting through the tension in Fitzwallace’s office. The older man stood by the window, his silhouette sharp against the pale light of the late afternoon.Fitzwallace’s gaze lingered outside for a moment before he turned, fixing Liam with his usual piercing stare.
“Cerberus and Interpol are both hunting them now,” Fitzwallace said, his voice steady but edged with steel. “Baro, Hawthorne, and Sokolov might think they’ve slipped through the cracks, but they won’t stay in the wind for long.”
Liam’s jaw tightened. He’d seen firsthand what those three were capable of. Baro, with his calculating ruthlessness, had left a trail of destruction in his wake. Hawthorne’s charm was a weapon in its own right, a polished facade hiding a predator. And Sokolov—Liam didn’t even want to think about the body count that man could rack up if left unchecked.
“Any leads?” Liam asked, keeping his voice calm despite the fire simmering beneath the surface.
Fitzwallace moved to his desk, pulling a folder from the stack. He tossed it onto the polished surface, the pages fanning out slightly. “Baro was last spotted in Istanbul three days ago, but he’s gone to ground since then. Hawthorne’s trail leads through Vienna, but it’s cold. And Sokolov?” Fitzwallace shook his head. “That bastard’s a ghost. But Cerberus has resources Interpol doesn’t have. Interpol has red-noticed all of them and have eyes on every major port and checkpoint.”
Liam reached for the folder, flipping through the grainy surveillance photos and hastily scribbled reports. Each image and word painted a clearer picture of the chaos the three had left in their wake. It wasn’t just about catching them anymore; it was about stopping them before more people got hurt.
“You sound confident,” Liam said, glancing up at Fitzwallace.
“I am.” Fitzwallace’s tone brooked no argument. “They’re skilled, but they’re not invincible. Baro and Hawthorne have egos—they’ll make mistakes. And Sokolov? He’s a creature of habit. It’s only a matter of time before someone connects the dots.”
Liam leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “And what happens when we do find them?”
Fitzwallace’s expression hardened. “That depends on who finds them first. Cerberus plays by our own rules, but Interpol will want to bring them in alive. You and I both know the damage those three can do. If it comes down to it, we’ll do what needs to be done.”
Liam nodded, though he wasn’t as convinced as Fitzwallace. Liam couldn’t shake the feeling that the real battle was only just beginning.
The two men headed down the grand staircase to the foyer of the club. Liam had always thought that Baker Street, and Cerberus for that matter, seemed to stand as a symbol of both endings and beginnings. They passed beyond the guarded entrance into the club itself to find Becks and JJ waiting for them. Liam took Becks’ hand in his and led her into the dungeon. The main room was filled with warm light, coming from an assortment of candles placed around the space. All their closest friends had gathered at Liam's request, and the air was heavy with feeling and anticipation for the ritual that was about to take place.
“Am I dressed okay?” she asked looking down at the purple corset and thong he had given her.
“Yes, baby, you look beautiful,” he crooned softly, kissing her cheek.
Liam stepped forward, drawing her with him, his presence commanding the space as he turned to face Becks. Fitzwallace stepped forward, holding a small velvet pillow from which Liam plucked a collar, a simple strand of alternating beads of diamonds, amethysts and pearls, the gems gleaming in the candlelight—a tangible representation of the bond they shared. She’d never seen anything like it and had no idea how he’d arranged for it to be here.
"Rebecca Ashworth," he began, his voice low and reverent, "do you willingly accept this collar, as a symbol of your submission to me, and our mutual trust?"
Becks met his gaze, her own eyes reflecting the flames around them. "I do," she replied, her voice unwavering.
As Liam fastened the collar around her neck, a hush fell over the room. It was a sacred moment, one that transcended the perils they had faced and one that spoke to the depth of their connection—a bond forged in danger but rooted in a trust deeper than either had known before.
At the edge of the crowd, one of the Cerberus operatives leaned over to another, his voice tinged with reluctant admiration. "I swear, I'm never letting Fitzwallace assign me as close cover to a woman again."
His companion raised an eyebrow, prompting him to continue.
"Because it always ends with a collaring ceremony," he grumbled, though the hint of envy betrayed his true feelings.
Laughter and murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd, but it was the exchange between Liam and Becks that held the true meaning of the night—a vow that no matter what darkness awaited them, they would face it as one.
