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I can't imagine a minute without him. Not now. Not ever. Not the way he looks at me like I'm the only thing that matters in his violent world. Not the way his hands feel on my skin, rough and reverent at the same time. Not the way he waited for me, watched over me, sent me gifts and invitations, even when it must have torn him apart to see me with Pete. Not the way he fucked me like he was claiming my soul and then made love to me this morning like I was something precious he'd die to protect.

Gabe isn't safe. He isn't comfortable. He isn't predictable. He's fire. And I want to burn with him.

Tears blur my vision again, but this time they're not just from fear or pain. They're from the overwhelming truth settling deep in my chest: I love Gabriel D'Amato. I love the mafia boss who stalked me. I love the man who could have taken me by force and chose to wait instead. I love him so much that the thought of him walking into this trap to save me feels like it's ripping my heart out. I keep working the zip ties harder, blood slicking my wrists, ignoring the sting, ignoring Razor's pacing and Flea's muttered warnings.

The blacked-out SUV screeches to a halt half a block from Razor's dive bar. I don't wait for the driver to kill the engine. I'm already moving. Stepping out into the warm Vegas air with two guns on me and a knife strapped to my ankle. My heart is a war drum in my chest, but my hands are steady.

They have to be.

A blueprint flashes across my mind, grainy, rushed, pulled from Kale's feed ten minutes ago. Back hallway. Two exits. Office in the rear that wasn't on any official layout. That's where they'll keep her. Or where theywantme to think she is. The Collector's men could be anywhere. Inside. Outside. Already watching me. Already waiting for me to make the wrong move.

Kale's voice crackles through the earpiece. "Eyes on the building. Razor's crew is inside, at least twelve visible. No signof extra muscle from the Collector yet. You sure about going in alone, boss?"

No sign. That means nothing. Not with a man like him.

"They're here," I mutter. "You just don't see them yet."

A beat of silence, followed by, "You want me to move in closer?"

I chew his question over. This is the part where men get it wrong. Where they trust the wrong person. Move too early. Trip the wire.

Kale sent the layout.

Kale set the eyes.

Kale is the only reason I know where to look.

And that's exactly why I don't trust a single piece of it.

If he's clean, he holds the perimeter. If he's not… I'm already walking into a trap designed just for me.

"Positive," I growl finally. "If anyone follows me in, Audra dies. Those are the rules tonight."

They always make rules when they think they're in control. They're not.

"Stay back. Watch the exits. Nobody leaves. Nobody goes in unless I say."

I wait a heartbeat, "And Kale?"

"Yeah?"

"If I don't walk out with her in thirty minutes…" My gaze lifts to the bar. To the doors. To the shadows that feel a little too still. "…burn the place down."

"Understood."

I reach up and hesitate for half a second. Because once I cut comms, I'm blind to everything except what's in front of me. Excepther. That's the only variable that matters.

I rip the earpiece out and drop it on the ground. No team. No one close enough to spook them. Just me. And my little backup surprise…

Because I need to get to her before anyone panics. Before anyone gives the order. Before anyone decides she's expendable. For her.

The bar is a joke of peeling paint and rows of bikes parked out front like sleeping predators. Too open. Too loud. Too easy. Which means the real threat isn't in the room.

The stench of stale beer and desperation hits me the second I push through the door. Every head turns. Razor's men are scattered around the room, hands hovering near weapons the moment they recognize me. They'd better. I check the corner; he's there. Good.

I don't nod.

I don't stop.