Page 40 of Claimed By the Damned
Ryker
Bastian, Ethan, and I are sitting around the coffee table, discussing logistics for an upcoming job, our voices low and focused. The usual hum of the server room in the background is a familiar white noise, Bastian’s pen tapping a quiet rhythm against his notepad, Ethan idly spinning a stress ball. Normal. Until it isn't.
The conversation cuts off the second my phone lights up, ringing loudly. Lila’s name flashes across the screen. She never calls. Not unless something is wrong. Or maybe—just maybe—she’s missing me.
I answer before the second ring, putting her on loudspeaker so Bastian and Ethan can hear. "Lila?"
Her breath comes in short, uneven gasps, like she’s struggling for air. Panic. Pure, unfiltered terror. My grip on the phone tightens so hard the cheap plastic creaks, a visceral clench in my gut mirroring the sudden ice shooting through my veins. Ethan’s head snaps up, the stress ball dropping from his hand and rolling unnoticed across the floor, his easy-going expression wiped clean, replaced by sharp, immediate concern. Bastian goes utterly still, his pen freezing mid-tap, his gaze locking onto the phone with an intensity that could cut glass, his mind already shifting gears from logistics to threat assessment.
"I—I need you to come get me."
My pulse spikes, a hard kick against my ribs. "Where are you? What happened?"
"Blooming Nook. Now, please."
Her voice is barely a whisper, but the raw fear in it slices through me like a knife.
Bastian and Ethan are no longer just listening—they’re reacting. The focused calm of our earlier discussion shatters, the air inthe room instantly crackling with a different energy. Adrenaline. Ethan is already pushing to his feet; his movements are swift. Bastian is a blur of controlled motion, his chair scraping back as he rises, all smooth command, plucking the keys from my grip before I can even process the need to move.
"I’m driving," he says, his tone leaving no room for argument, already pointing towards the door with his chin.
Ethan grabs his jacket. "I’m riding shotgun." He’s already halfway to the door, his earlier casualness replaced by a focused urgency.
I clench my jaw but don’t argue. There isn't time. My own body is thrumming, a low growl building in my chest, that primal, protective fury Lila alone seems to ignite in me. I climb into the backseat as Bastian slides into the driver’s seat, Ethan beside him. The engine roars to life, and we’re gone.
"Lila. Talk to me. What the hell is going on?" My voice is tight, tension coiling low in my gut.
"A package. Someone sent me a package. I... I can’t—"
My blood turns to ice, a deep chill stealing my breath, then instantly ignites to boiling pitch. My vision whites out at the edges for a split second before snapping into razor focus. That red haze descends—not just anger, it’s kill mode.A package.What the fuck kind of package?
"Stay put. Don’t open it. Don’t move. I’m coming."
"Ryker—" she whispers something I can't make out, the line going dead before I can catch it.
I clench my teeth, my pulse hammering. "Step on it, Bastian. Now."
Bastian drives like the devil is breathing down his neck. The big SUV eats up the road, engine screaming, gears grinding with aggressive shifts that slam me back against the seat. He takes corners sharp enough I smell burning rubber, tires protesting with a high-pitched screech.
Luckily, Blooming Nook is only short drive away, but every second feels like an eternity. I sit rigid in the back, knuckles bone-white against my thighs, jaw clenched so tight it fucking aches. My pulse hammers a frantic rhythm against my eardrums.
I barely notice any of it beyond the consuming fire in my gut. I lean forward, gripping the back of his seat. "Faster, Bastian." Only one thing matters—get to her.Now.
If this ishim... taunting her... I'll fucking end him.
Blooming Nook swims into view through the windshield. My eyes snag on her instantly. She stands huddled just outside the cheerful green door like a wraith, arms wrapped tightly around her middle, clutching a small, innocuous-looking box like it’s wired to blow.
Her face is chalk white, the faint scar on her temple a stark, angry line. Even from the car, I see the tremor ripping through her frame, shaking her hands, her shoulders.
She looks so fucking small. So fragile. A gut-wrenching echo of the broken woman I'd first found crumpled near the driveway, before she started to mend, to trust, toliveagain. Seeing her like this now, sucked back into that abyss, folding in on herself, lost in that raw terror, it hits me like a fist to the gut, knocking the air right out of me. After everything, after howhardshe'd fought… she’s back there. And that fucking kills me.
Bastian slams the SUV to a halt at the curb, the tires letting out a final screech. Before the car even stops, I kick the back door open and launch myself out.
"Lila." My voice cuts sharply through the charged air.
Her head snaps towards the sound. Her body visibly jolts, tensing like a cornered animal. Her eyes—God, her eyes— are wide, pupils blown huge and dark, glassy, unfocused, darting wildly for a split second before locking onto me with desperateintensity, as if I am the only solid thing in a world tilting sideways.
I move toward her with purpose, my gaze flicking across the street, the shop windows, the passing cars. Scanning every shadow, every movement. Making damn sure no one is lurking, watching. If anyone did this—I will find them.
