Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 36353 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 182(@200wpm)___ 145(@250wpm)___ 121(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36353 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 182(@200wpm)___ 145(@250wpm)___ 121(@300wpm)
“A hidden forum. Encrypted by invitation only. Buried fucking deep on the dark web. There are portfolios, private photo sets…all of them intimate shots of men and women, or both. And a lot of them are completely nude. Gemma’s watermark is on at least three of the boudoir samples.”
“Portfolios? Samples?” My hand closed around the edge of the trash can so tightly it cut into my palm. “Why wou—” Then it hit me. “They’re fucking selling them?”
“It’s a fucking black market. Voyeur shit. Password-protected trades, timed auto-deletes, rotating proxies. Think dark web, but worse. Encrypted and buried behind dead-drop servers. Took me all night to crack. But I have a lead.”
The world dimmed around me. All I could see was her face. That light in her eyes when she talked about helping women feel beautiful. About building something sacred.
And these fucking bastards had turned it into a market.
I didn’t respond. I couldn’t.
“I’ll keep digging. I’ll text when I have a trace on the account owner.” He was silent for a moment before adding, “I should also warn you. I’m sure there are stolen photos from other photographers, but…”
My gut clenched at the anger vibrating in his voice.
“I don’t think all of the photo shoots were consensual.”
“What the fuck?” I breathed.
“I don’t have proof with the professional pictures, but there is something about the expressions on some of these people. They can’t completely hide the fear.”
“You think they’re being coerced? Blackmail?” I guessed.
Deviant sighed. “Or forced.”
“Son of a bitch.”
“Not all of the pictures are staged, though. It’s obvious that some were taken when the subject had no idea they were being watched.”
His words took a few seconds to sink in, then the fury I’d been stamping down broke through my carefully constructed barriers.
“What the fuck?” I roared.
“Keep it together, Hawk,” Deviant snapped. “Gonna send your girl runnin’ if you don’t.”
My teeth ground together until my jaw ached. Rage blistered inside me, stretching the edges of my control until it nearly ripped free. Deviant was right, but the beast inside me didn’t give a shit. It wanted out. It wanted a fucking blood bath.
“Let you know when I have more, but you should get back here as soon as you can. Fox wants to strategize.”
Then he hung up.
I stood there, breathing heavily and clenching my fists while I tried to find the strength to contain the monster once more. Gemma didn’t need to see me like this. I didn’t want her to.
Then behind me, Wrecker’s voice cut through the haze. “You know why we call him Hawk, right?”
He had to be talking to Gemma.
Fuck!
“Because once he’s locked onto a target, he doesn’t blink. Never hesitates. Doesn’t stop until the motherfucker is gone. Until the threat is eliminated.”
There was a small gasp, and I froze. Afraid to turn around. To see her recoil. Worried I would see the trust in her eyes splinter.
But then I felt her steps behind me. Quiet. Steady. A second later, her hand curled gently around my arm. I turned, expecting distance, fear, or even disgust.
What I got was calm, reassuring brown eyes. Our gazes locked, and she searched mine for a second, then seemed to have a realization.
“I’m not scared of you, Callum,” she said softly. “I could never be. I know you’ll always keep me safe.”
I didn’t speak. I had no words to tell her what it meant to me to hear her say that. So I just pulled her into me and kissed her. One hand curled behind her neck, and the other gripped her waist. I didn’t care who saw it. The whole damn street could stop to watch. I kissed her like I needed her breath to survive. Because I did.
And I needed her to feel it. Everything I couldn’t say.
The claim. The promise. The fire.
We broke apart only when my phone buzzed with a text.
Deviant
Get back to the compound now. I have what we need.
“We’re leaving,” I told her as I showed her the message. “The guys will finish the cleanup.”
“But—”
“I need you with me, baby. Locked up tight behind steel and concrete. Otherwise, I won’t be able to think straight.”
She didn’t argue. She never did when I put shit like that—knowing it wasn’t up for debate when it came to her safety.
12
HAWK
The moment we stepped into the lounge back at the clubhouse, chaos erupted.
Molly, Maverick’s wife, burst out of the kitchen, baby on one hip, yelling over her shoulder. “Luna, if you eat that cookie, you’re not getting another one!”
The three-year-old in question was already halfway behind the bar, crumbs trailing behind her like guilty glitter.
Molly groaned, catching her ten-month-old baby—Chase—just as he tried to wriggle free. She sighed when she saw us. “I swear, he skipped walking. Went straight to sprinting. I haven’t sat down since.”
Gemma laughed, and I felt some of the pressure inside me ease just a notch.