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The words land like a punch. Whitney looks between us but doesn’t speak. I’m not surprised they know. They make it their business to keep track of everything.

I draw a deep breath. “I’m getting it reversed.”

I swore I never fucking would. But if that’s what it takes to have my little one. I’m either going to give her a child or die trying.

“After all these years?” He doesn’t sound convinced. “The odds aren’t in your favor. And the Council will know if you try to use any medical intervention. They won’t accept any artificial means or surrogacy. If you attempt it and they find out, I don’t have to tell you what will happen.”

There’s no turning back now. I’m going to do what I should have done from the beginning. “I fucking know all of this.”

Whitney’s hand tightens on Dane’s chest. She whispers something again that I can’t hear, and Dane’s jaw works for a moment before he looks back at me.

“And what if the reversal fails?”

“Ryker will help if needed.” It’s not what any of us want, but neither of us will let them take Laine, so if this is the only way, then so be it. “The Council gets their heir with Lockwood and Bradley blood. It shouldn’t matter to them whose it is.”

“That’s a dangerous game, Rhett. If they find out⁠—”

“They won’t.” I lean forward. “It’s going to fucking work.”

Dane is quiet for a long time. His hand is still on Whitney’s thigh, and they’re both watching me.

“Dane.” Whitney says his name softly. “You would do whatever it took to keep me, wouldn’t you?”

His jaw tightens. She’s right and they both know it. He spent fifty million dollars on a woman the Council didn’t want him to have. And who the fuck knows what else he’s done to protect his family.

“I’ll support the change in the arrangement with the Council.” Dane’s voice is flat and final. “But the heir has to come within two years. That’s what I’ll negotiate for you. If there’s no pregnancy in two years, I can’t hold them off.”

“Done.” I can’t say I’m relieved, but at least it’s something. If I can even convince my girl that she still wants me. But we have to fucking find her first.

“Now we have to find the girl without them knowing. And we are fucking doing this my way.” Dane picks up his phone. “Tate. I need you here at the house now, son. Drop what you are doing and get your ass here.”

Whitney slides off his lap and squeezes Dane’s shoulder before crossing to the bar to pour herself a drink. The fact that she’s staying tells me she’s part of this now.

Twenty minutes later, Tate appears in the doorway, ending the circles I’d been pacing in Dane’s office. He has the same green eyes as his father’s, but they are colder and more intense. “What the fuck was so urgent?”

“The Lockwood girl ran. I need you to find her before morning without drawing unwanted attention.” Dane doesn’t elaborate. I can imagine this isn’t the first time they’ve granted this request.

Tate glances at me and then goes back to his father. “I need to bring in Thorne to pull the surveillance, and I’ll get my guys chasing her trail.”

Dane nods. “Do it. Use Fox’s men if you need them too. But keep it tight. Only trusted men on this. I’ll phone to ready the jet so we can depart at a moment’s notice.”

I don’t argue because it will be faster than getting my jet ready and hopefully less suspicious if anyone is watching my movements right now.

Tate is on the phone before he’s out of the door. I can hear him barking orders in the hallway, and within seconds, he’s got Thorne on speaker pulling camera feeds from bus stations and hotels in a widening radius from my house.

I’m fucking useless, other than sending Ryker a text to let him know what is going on. I’m standing in Dane Sinclair’s office with my hands in fists and nothing to hit. But they are going to get her back. This is what they are fucking trained to do.

Whitney refills my glass without asking and sets it on the desk. “She’s a smart girl.” Whitney takes a sip of her own drink. “She survived that horrid father of hers. Don’t worry, they’ll find her.”

That doesn’t make me feel any fucking better. She should be in my bed where she fucking belongs, and not fucking out there on her own.

After what feels like hours, Tate reappears. “Thorne pulled a hit off a traffic cam three blocks from your house, heading south. She was on foot and then took a bus.” He checks his phone. “One of my guys just called and confirmed the bus took off and is headed to Baltimore.”

I lunge forward. “How long until the bus arrives?”

Tate checks his phone. “It’s a five-hour ride with stops. She left about an hour ago, so she’s got roughly four hours left.”

Dane is already pulling out his phone. “The jet’s fueled and ready. You’ll be at the station before the bus pulls in. We’re coming with you.” He stands and buttons his jacket. He pulls two handguns out of his drawer and passes one to his son. “Here Tate, let’s move.”