Unwanted Blood (Harper) novel Chapter 45

Chapter 45

Harper’s POV

The warehouse was chaos.

Marcus was face-down on the concrete, handcuffed behind his back, his cheek pressed into dust and oil. He was still shouting-words in English and something else, slurred together, desperate and angry. The tactical team held him down with practiced efficiency, like they’d done this a thousand times.

Ethan was sitting on a shipping crate now, a blanket draped over his shoulders, his wrists wrapped in gauze from where the rope had cut into his skin. Colton hadn’t moved more than three feet from him since the rescue, standing like a sentry, his arms crossed, his eyes scanning every agent that passed by.

Ryder was beside me. He hadn’t left my side since he pushed through the crowd.

Agent Torres stepped forward. “Harper Wilson. We need you to come with us now.” He glanced at Ryder, then at the tactical team still securing the warehouse. “For your safety and to preserve the integrity of your statement, we need to process you immediately.”

Ryder shifted in front of me. “I’m going with her.”

Torres didn’t blink. “I’m sorry, Mr. Wilson, but that’s not possible. Witness statements and evidence processing require isolation protocols. She comes alone.”

Ryder’s jaw tightened. He looked at me, waiting.

I met his eyes. “I’ll be back,” I said quietly. “Stay with Ethan.”

He hesitated. His hand dropped. “Okay.”

I followed Torres out of the warehouse and into the grey afternoon.

A black SUV was parked at the edge of the dock, idling. No markings. No lights. No license plate

I could read from this angle. Just a sleek, window-tinted vehicle that looked expensive and anonymous.

I paused before the door opened.

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Chapter 45

Something about it felt wrong. But Torres was already holding the door, his expression patient, professional

‘Probably standard protocol,’ I told myself. ‘Federal operations don’t advertise.’

I got in

The door closed behind me with a heavy, sealed sound. The SUV pulled away almost immediately, tires rolling over cracked asphalt, the warehouse shrinking in the rear window.

Through the back glass, I saw Ryder standing in the doorway. His figure grew smaller, then smaller, until the curve of the road swallowed him whole.

–

Twenty minutes in.

The city had disappeared behind us. The streets narrowed. The buildings thinned out. Trees replaced warehouses. I found that we were heading into the suburbs.

I watched the road through the window, my mind turning over every detail.

This wasn’t the direction of any federal building I knew. No police precinct. No courthouse. Just…

away.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

The agent in the passenger seat didn’t turn around. His sunglasses caught the dim light through the tinted window.

“Temporary safe house,” he said. His voice was flat. “Your testimony is critical. We need to secure it away from public exposure.”

I reached into my pocket for my phone. The screen lit up, but there was no signal.

‘No signal in a federal vehicle?’ I kept my face calm. My voice, when I spoke, was casual. “Can I make a call? Just to let someone know I’m safe.”

The agent in the front seat was quiet for three seconds. Then he turned.

He reached up, slowly, and took off his sunglasses. And he looked exactly like Marcus’s had when he smiled at me in the café.

My stomach dropped.

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