MasukThe attorney arrived at the penthouse at nine sharp, already looking like she’d been awake since four. She spread the asset freeze paperwork across the kitchen island without waiting for an invitation, then glanced once at the portable crib Roman had somehow produced in under forty minutes. The baby was asleep inside it, one tiny fist curled against his cheek like the world hadn’t just tried to steal him twice in the same week.“The freeze was filed in the third district,” she said, sitting down. “Law firm connected to Marchetti through two layers of shell companies. They had the application ready before the birth. Filed it the second they confirmed delivery.”Archer leaned against the counter. “How the hell did they move that fast?”“Because they were waiting for this exact moment,” she answered. “The freeze is tied to a simultaneous custody petition. They’re claiming the child was born under a surrogacy arrangement they initiated.”“The contract with Dara,” Lennon said. His voice ca
The facility sat on the west side in a building that didn’t advertise what it actually was. Roman had peeled back the shell company in under four minutes while Damien drove like the road owed him something.“Front entrance has two on the door and one inside at reception,” Roman said, eyes on his tablet. “All contracted. Low-level. They’ll fold if real authority shows up, but they’ll fight if we push them directly.”Lennon didn’t take his eyes off the building as they passed it. “So we don’t push.”“South side has a staff entrance,” Roman continued. “Single door, no documented security rotation on the permit. They never expected anyone to know it existed.”“Because they thought they were untouchable,” Archer muttered from the back seat.Roman was already dialing. “Dr. Reyes. I need a legitimate medical authority at St. Christopher’s who can call this facility right now citing patient welfare and questionable consent documentation on a surrogate in early labor.”Dr. Reyes didn’t waste t
Roman had the full profile on Dara Solís by seven a.m.He spread the pages across the kitchen island in that deliberate, almost ritualistic way he arranged information when he needed everyone to absorb it before anyone opened their mouth. Lennon stood on one side of the counter, Damien on the other, both of them too wired to sit.“Twenty-nine,” Roman said. “Trained medical technician. Walked away from her last clinic eight months ago after they tried to short her on hazard pay during a funding fight. She’s got a six-year-old daughter with medical bills that would make most people sell plasma twice a week.”Archer leaned against the fridge, arms crossed. “That’s why she took the listing.”“Yes.” Roman tapped one page. “The payment was four times standard agency rates. She asked enough questions to convince herself it wasn’t trafficking. She didn’t ask the ones that would’ve led her to the Marchetti name.”“She’s protecting her kid,” Lennon said quietly.Roman nodded. “Which means she’l
“Ride it,” Damien said, voice low and rough against Lennon’s ear.Lennon sank down slowly, taking every thick inch until he was seated fully. Damien’s hands gripped his ass hard, controlling the pace from the start. He slammed him down again and again, forcing Lennon to take him deep with every bounce. The wet sound of skin meeting skin filled the quiet penthouse. Lennon moaned openly, head tipping back as Damien’s cock hit that spot inside him over and over.Damien leaned in and sucked hard at the side of Lennon’s neck, leaving dark marks, then bit down at the curve of his collarbone. Without warning, he lifted Lennon off his cock, turned him around, and pulled him back down in reverse. Lennon braced his hands on Damien’s thighs and rode him hard, ass bouncing with every thrust. Damien reached around and stroked his cock in quick, tight pulls while fucking up into him.He pushed two fingers into Lennon’s mouth. Lennon sucked them greedily, moaning around them, tongue working between
Roman moved first.He took the northeast service corridor with two contacts at his back while Damien came in through the south entry. Archer stayed with the vehicle, the live feed still open on his phone. The lower level smelled of salt water and rust, that cold industrial damp that clung to buildings sitting too close to the waterline. Roman kept to the wall, silent. Marcus held up two fingers at the far end. Two personnel. Roman nodded once.It took forty seconds. No gunfire. Both men were down before they could react. Roman moved straight to the storage unit and opened the panel.One container. Not two.He looked at Marcus.“One’s gone,” Marcus said quietly. “Seal’s still cold. Recent.”Roman secured the remaining container and headed for the internal staircase. Upstairs, the situation was louder.Damien had come through the south side and met resistance at the second door. The sounds of it carried down before Roman reached the top. He took the stairs in eight steps.Four rooms on
Damien waited four minutes.He told himself it was because Lennon had asked for two. The extra two minutes were an exercise in restraint—the version of himself that didn’t count every second Lennon was out of sight. At the four-minute mark he looked at Roman.Roman was already staring at his phone.“His location stopped moving three blocks north,” Roman said.Damien stood. “How long ago?”“Seven minutes.”“Seven.” Damien’s eyes went to the restaurant exit. “He left seven minutes ago.”“He told you two,” Archer said quietly.“Yes. He told me two.” Damien was already moving toward the door. “Someone sent him something. He didn’t show it to me.”“How do you know?” Roman asked, falling in behind him.“Because he checked his phone at the table. He looked at it differently than he usually does. Then he looked away from me.”They moved north fast.The building on the third block had a ground-floor unit with the door closed. Damien reached it first and tested the handle. Locked.Roman produce
LENNONDamian pulled into the underground garage just after dusk. The engine’s low growl faded into silence as he killed it. The day had dragged—every lecture an eternity, every stolen glance at Lennon in the back row feeling like a live wire sparking under his skin.
DAMIEN Damian was fucked.Completely, gloriously, irreversibly fucked.Heat pooled low in his stomach, thick and molten—the kind that made his balls tighten and his pulse hammer against his collar like it wanted out. Lennon’s small, wicked hand was wrapped around him again, stroking with slow, fil
LENNON Lennon froze. His hand still curled around Damien's now soft, spit slick cock. The faint tang of pre come was still on his tongue.The sudden knock cracked through the quiet like a whip and every muscle in Lennon's body locked tight.Panic slammed into him with full force, hot, blinding an
DAMIEN Damien had to admit it—he liked this new version of Lennon.The pissy moods suited him. The way his lower lip would jut out just a fraction when something grated on him, the way his dark lashes would lower like storm clouds rolling in, the sudden spark of fire behind those usually soft, wa







