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Grunting, Boyd tossed me off, reaching for his gun.

One shot from it, and we’d have all the prison guards down here.

Croygen darted in, his sword going to Boyd’s throat, ramming him back into the wall, forcing the gun from his grip.

“Whoa! Wait!” Boyd held up his hands, a little panic showing in his eyes. “I don’t want to die over this.” He swallowed against the blade. “How about we make a deal?”

“We don’t make deals with venal traitors.” Croygen bared his teeth.

“Oh, this is a gummy, sticky, thick one…” Sprig worked the knob, his forehead creasing. “Though these magic fingers can get in the tightest, most gooey places.”

The man’s eyes sprang to Sprig, his throat bobbing. “That thing fucking talks.”

“And I recommend addressing him as Monkey King ifyouwant to continue to speak.” Croygen pinned his sword at his voice box as Amara picked up his discarded gun from the ground.

Croygen’s sensual gaze drifted over to me. “You okay, Kitten?”

I padded up to him with a tiny cry of yes, rubbing my body against his leg to reassure him.

“Here.” Annabeth dropped my clothes, boots, and bag down beside me, her hands shaking from fatigue. As a cat, I could smell her insides rotting with cancer, the stench pungent. If we didn’t get the nectar, she was going to diesoon. It wasn’t weeks. It was days.

Pushing my furry head through my tank, I commanded my body back into my human form, getting dressed quickly while Boyd tried to make a deal.

“I’ll make sure you get out of here,” he propositioned. “Just get me in on it, and I’ll show you the exit myself.”

“Think we’ll take our chances,” Cooper responded.

“I think I got it… wait… no.” Sprighmphed, his mouth pinching, fingers moving around.

“You get that open, furball, and I will bathe you in honey,” Croygen encouraged.

“Oh, like that time when you squeezed honey all over me, then strapped me to a bug zapper?” Sprig’s eyes brightened. “Or the time you dunked my head in honey until I couldn’t breathe?”

“Good times. Now open the door,” Croygen ordered Sprig.

“First say,please, my Monkey God King.”

“Sprig, I’m gonna stuff bananas so deep in your ears and nose, they will be all you smell, taste, and poop for the rest of your life.”

Clank.

The lock snapped, the door squeaking open.

We were about to move for the entrance when a crackle hummed in the air, followed by a voice that stilled me in place.

“Lord Killian, checking in,” the familiar voice spoke over the walkie-talkie laying on the cement. Hearing him scooped out my insides and dumped them on the floor. It sent me back in time—comfort, love, friendship. It hurt more than I expected, like I had been blocking him out, never allowing myself to mourn his loss in my life.

The distraction was enough. The focus on the device created a moment, and Boyd took it. Gripping Croygen’s sword, he rammed it back into the pirate, slamming his boot in his gut, and shoving him back.

I saw Boyd’s gaze drop to the walkie-talkie, his muscles twitching.

“No!” I bellowed as he leaped for it at the same time I did. Clawing the ground, we both scrambled for it, my hands trying to reach out. His elbow rammed into my eye, knocking me back, getting to it first as Cooper and Amara came down on him.

“Code red!” he barked into it. “We’re bei—”

Cooper kicked the walkie-talkie from his hand, his boot hitting Boyd’s nose with a crack as Amara stomped on it, Killian’s response beeping out.

It was too late.