Page 7

“Yeah, it’s me. You look like shit.” He grunts, eyes fluttering shut. “Stay with me, okay? You definitely have a head injury, and you need to stay awake. Tell me what happened.”

“Anex happened,” he says as I unzip my bag, rummaging through for the scissors I carry with me. The blades are short, surgical, and I use them to cut the front of his shirt, ripping off a strip of fabric. I reach for the cup on his tray of food and dunk the fabric in the water. Balling it, I shove it in his hand and lift it to his mouth. “Apply pressure if you can.”

I fall into routine, finding the package of bandages, rubbing alcohol, and salve I carry with me. Pretending the ache in my chest isn’t one of revenge and anger. This is my friend, my best friend, and his father is the one that hurt him like this. It’s wrong. Everything about this hell of the Fallen is wrong, but there’s nothing I can do about it but tend to his wounds.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” I ask, cleaning his knuckles with the alcohol.

He winces at the sting. “You know what happened.”

Imogene.

My heart leaps in my throat. “Did he do or say something specific?”

His eyes open and his crystal blue gaze holds mine. “He wants her.”

There’s no mistaking what he means. I see it every day down here, the girls Anex keeps for his own services. “I think he made that clear when he branded her with his initials.”

“No, Silas,” he pushes up on his elbows, a struggled huff of air escaping his lungs. “Hewantsher, for his own. For his pleasure and under his control.” He hisses when I swipe the ointment over the scraps on his hand. “He’s going to claim her on the equinox.”

“What?” I ask, a tremor rolling up my spine. “The equinox?” There’s no mistaking what that means. It’s a ceremony. It was to be Rex and Imogene’s ceremony before everything fell apart. “He wants to mate with her.”

“He’s going to, Silas.” There’s an undeniable pain in his voice. “He will unless…”

“Unless we save her.”

We fall into silence, both of us well aware that the other would have done something if we could. We have no freedom. No money. No confidence we can get her to safety.

Rex sighs. “Any word from the guys?”

“Nothing.” I gesture for him to turn. “Let me check your head.”

The contusion is about the size of my fist—but there’s a clear outline—the butt of a gun. I gingerly press my thumb against the spot, and he shouts, “Son of a bitch, Silas!”

“Sorry, I was just testing it.”

“Well, it hurts like a motherfucker.”

I stand, walking across the room to lean against the small metal desk. “It’s a bad injury. Like I said, you probably have a concussion, but this isn’t my area of expertise.”

“Yeah, you’re better at massaging vaginas and soothing psychic trauma.”

His tone is snide—dismissive, but I know he’s just upset. I’m upset. “You’re right. The damage your father does to the Fallen down here—it’s not as violent, but it’s also no less brutal.”

“So, he still plans on selling them?”

“Any day now, I suspect.”

“And you?” There’s no mistaking his concern. “What’s he going to do with you?”

“I don’t know.” I push off the table and start to collect my supplies. “But I’m pretty sure if he found out I’m in here helping you, he’d put me out there with them.”

“You’re right.” Something in his eyes is clear, like he’s struggling through the fog. “You being here is dangerous. Not just for me and you but—”

“For Imogene.” I straighten and grab my bag. Not wanting to leave my friend, not hurt, not ever. I start for the door, pausing with my hand on the knob. “I’ll get to her,” I tell him. “I’ll make sure she’s okay.”

“No,” Rex snaps.

“You don’t want me to check on her?”