Lianna didn't tell Lucien where she was going.
She only sent one message—to the number that had threatened her.
Lianna:
Release him. I'm coming alone.
The reply came almost instantly.
Unknown:
Good girl. Warehouse 17. Midnight.
She deleted the message and slipped her phone into her pocket.
No guards.
No weapons.
No backup.
At least, that's what she wanted them to believe.
—
Warehouse 17 stood at the edge of the docks, abandoned and rotting, the sea wind carrying the smell of rust and salt. A single light flickered above the entrance.
Lianna stepped inside.
The door slammed shut behind her.
"So you came."
A man emerged from the shadows—tall, scarred, eyes sharp with cruelty. Around him stood armed men, their guns trained casually on her.
Ethan was tied to a chair in the center of the warehouse.
Bruised. Bleeding.
Alive.
Lianna exhaled slowly. "Let him go."
The man laughed. "Straight to business. You really do think like a queen."
She took a step forward. Guns clicked.
"Careful," he warned. "You're valuable. He's not."
Lianna's gaze never left Ethan. "You want leverage over Lucien Blackwood. Taking me works better than taking his employee."
The man's eyes narrowed. "Smart."
She lifted her chin. "I'll stay. He leaves."
Ethan struggled. "Lianna—don't—"
"Quiet," she said gently, without looking at him. "I've got this."
The man considered her for a long moment.
Then he smiled.
"Deal."
They untied Ethan roughly and shoved him toward the exit.
As he passed her, his voice cracked. "You don't have to do this."
"Yes," she whispered. "I do."
The doors closed.
The warehouse fell silent again.
The man stepped closer, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes.
"You just handed yourself over," he said.
Lianna smiled faintly.
"No," she replied.
"I walked in exactly where you wanted me to."
A beat.
Then—
The lights went out.
Gunshots rang out.
Screams followed.
The side doors exploded inward.
Black-clad men flooded the warehouse with terrifying precision.
Lucien Blackwood stepped through the smoke.
Calm. Cold. Deadly.
"You really thought," he said quietly, eyes locking on Lianna,
"that I would let you face this alone?"
The scarred man backed away in terror.
Lucien raised his gun.
"You touched what's mine," he said.
Lianna turned sharply. "Lucien—"
Too late.
The shot echoed.
When silence returned, Lucien crossed the warehouse and stopped in front of her.
His gaze searched her face—checking, assessing.
"You traded yourself," he said, voice low. "That was reckless."
She met his eyes, unafraid. "And you followed me."
"That wasn't part of the deal."
Lucien leaned closer, fury and something darker burning beneath his calm.
"You don't get to sacrifice yourself," he said.
"Not when I've already chosen you."
Lianna's breath caught.
Because for the first time—
Lucien Blackwood wasn't speaking like a king.
He was speaking like a man who was afraid of losing her.