Page 54

Mo gripped Victor's hand tightly as the van lurched into motion. "He's fading," Mo whispered, tears tracking down his cheeks. "I can barely feel him anymore."

Victor pulled Mo against his chest, his own heart constricting with fear. Through their bond, he could feel it too—the once-strong connection to Zack now just a faint, flickering pulse.

"We'll find him," Victor promised, pressing his lips to Mo's temple. "Hold onto him, Mo. Don't let him go."

Mo nodded against Victor's chest, his eyes closing in concentration as he mentally reached for that tenuous thread connecting them to their missing mate.

The warehouse loomed dark and imposing against the night sky as they approached. Daniel's team moved with practiced efficiency, surrounding the building while Victor, Daniel, and Riley prepared to enter.

"Stay in the van," Victor ordered Mo.

Mo shook his head vehemently. "No. I need to be there. What if he can sense me? What if that helps?"

Victor hesitated, torn between protecting Mo and acknowledging the truth in his words. If Zack was suffering from mating sickness, having Mo and him both close might strengthen the bond enough to keep him alive until they could get him proper help.

"Fine," Victor conceded, "but you stay behind us at all times."

"I promise," Mo said, relief evident in his voice.

Daniel raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. He'd seen enough of shifter bonds to know better than to question Victor's judgment where his mates were concerned.

"Riley, you and Martin cover the back entrance," Daniel directed. "Victor and I will take the front. Mo stays with us." He handed Mo a bulletproof vest. "Put this on."

Mo quickly donned the vest while Victor checked his weapon. Though he preferred his claws in a fight, the gun would allow him to maintain his human appearance if necessary.

"Ready?" Daniel asked.

Victor nodded, his senses already stretching out, searching for any trace of Zack's scent or presence.

They moved silently toward the warehouse, the night air thick with the smell of rust and stagnant water. As they approached the entrance, Victor caught another scent—familiar, unwelcome.

"Rigor's inside," he murmured to Daniel. "And he's not alone."

Daniel signaled to his team through his comm unit, then counted down with his fingers. Three, two, one—

They burst through the door, weapons raised. The warehouse interior was dimly lit by overhead fluorescents, creating pools of light and shadow across the concrete floor. Stacks of crates and shipping containers created a maze-like layout.

"FBI!" Daniel shouted. "Come out with your hands up!"

For a moment, silence. Then a slow, mocking applause echoed through the cavernous space.

"Well done," Rigor Elkin's voice called out. "I was wondering how long it would take you to find me."

Victor tracked the voice to a raised office platform at the far end of the warehouse. Rigor stood there, leaning against the railing with casual insolence. Another smaller man stood next to him, holding a gun.

"Where is he?" Victor demanded, his voice carrying across the space.

Rigor smiled. "Your pet bear? Not here, I'm afraid. But I'd be happy to arrange a reunion. For a price."

Victor started forward, but Daniel placed a restraining hand on his arm. "What price?" Daniel called back.

"Simple," Rigor replied. "I walk away. Clean slate, new identity, the works."

"Not happening," Daniel said. "But cooperate, and I can ensure you're not charged as an accessory to kidnapping and human experimentation."

Rigor laughed. "You think I care about charges? Pearson will have me killed the moment I'm in custody."

"We can protect you," Daniel countered.