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Zeke’s reassurance is well-meaning, but I’m too fucking enraged, too mad at myself to be comforted.

The roar that rips out of me is barely human.

Even Zeke winces, but he doesn’t say a word. He knows.

He fucking knows.

I won’t let them harm her. Never.

“Over my dead body.”

The words come from both of us, me and my Bull, fused, unified, unstoppable.

When we reach the ranch, I already know it’s the right place.

The entire property is dark, set back from the road behind a rusted wire fence and rows of decaying apple trees.

The sign out front is weather-worn and leaning sideways.

What was once a charming barn-style home now looks like a goddamn crime scene waiting to happen.

“You smell that?” Zeke growls, eyes narrowing, pupils slitting as the Dragon peeks through.

“Feline. And her.”

The scent of Arliss hits me like a sledgehammer to the gut.

Faint but there, woven with the acrid stink of Serval piss, old wood, and damp hay.

I leap out of the truck before it stops moving.

The barn is partially open, its doors cracked just enough for me to slip inside.

What I see sends a jolt of cold fury through every cell in my body.

Inside the barn, it’s fucking gross.

Old stalls lined with soiled hay and rusted chains.

A cot in the corner, mattress bare, stained, and recently used.

Empty cuffs bolted to the wall, one hanging open like it just lost its prisoner.

And blood.

Her blood.

Just a smear.

A drop.

But that’s all it takes.

I fall to my knees, fingers trembling as I touch it.

It’s still warm.

“She was just here.” I rasp.