Page 79

I’d been gearing up for an unpleasant discussion with Byron Harper in the alley behind the Elderflower Inn when Luca had confronted us. He must have followed Byron outside and overheard part of the conversation, because he was clearlynot happy.
I couldn’t really blame him. He and Mia were friends, if not more, and he’d just found out that Mia’s husband and one of her lovers had both been hiding one hell of a secret from her. I’d dreaded the fallout that was about to crash down on me... but now, I’d happily go back in time and face the mess head-on, if it meant avoiding what had come next.
When the headlights turned into the alley, accompanied by a screech of aging brakes, I’d had absolutely no clue what was happening. Luca had immediately panicked, cursing as he scrabbled away from the vehicle, trying to get deeper into the alley. An instant later, a strong hand grabbed me by the arm, shoving me after him. Byron had placed both of us behind him, caging us in with his spread arms.
The alley was blind—a dead end. Getting back to the door of the restaurant would have meant heading straight toward the blinding lights, and I could already hear the squeak of car doors opening. Dark shapes swarmed toward us, silhouetted against the piercing yellow-white headlights.
“What the hell?” I’d demanded, not sure if I should be pushing past Byron to stand next to him, or pulling Luca deeper into the alley. Behind me, the omega whimpered.
Everything descended into chaos. Hands tugged Byron forward, away from us. The sound of grunts and fists on flesh echoed against the brick walls. Someone grabbed me by the hair and pulled, dragging me off balance. The brutal impact of something too hard to be a fist crashed into my lower back, and I crumpled to the concrete as pain exploded outward, paralyzing me.
Everything around me had gone distant and confusing, punctuated only by the ebb and flow of crippling agony from my back. When I regained more awareness after a dizzying couple of minutes, I was sitting on a hard bench with a cloth bag over my head and my wrists trapped behind me. Harsh panting came from my right, and high-pitched, terrified keening came from somewhere across from me.
The bench beneath me had shifted, throwing off my balance. My injured back impacted cold metal, sending my awareness spinning dizzily again.
“Byron?” I’d choked out. “Luca?”
“Shaddup!” came a sharp, angry voice. The blow that rocked my head to the side was more shocking than painful, my attacker unseen through the muffling cloth of the hood.
My brain finally started putting two and two together at that point. We were inside a van with at least one of our attackers, being taken god knew where. Whatever was binding my wrists felt sharp and unforgiving. A zip tie, maybe. It was hard to breathe, the inside of the cloth hood already growing humid and stifling as the stale air built up.
As insane as it sounded, we’d clearly just been kidnapped from right outside a fuckingMichelin-star restaurantduring a busy dinner service. Had anyone even noticed? Would a van pulling up and the sounds of a struggle filter into the busy kitchen with its clatter of pots and pans, the hiss of the grill and the noise of people calling back and forth?
There’d been no way to tell where we were being taken.
“What do you want with us?” I’d demanded, the words muffled inside my bag. “This must be some kind of mista—”
The words were cut off by another cuff to the side of my head. This time, I’d tasted blood where my tooth cut into the side of my cheek.
“I told you toshut up, motherfucker,” snarled our captor.
Across from me, Luca whimpered again.
I shut up.
The journey seemed like it took an hour, but it was probably less. At the end of it, we’d been dragged out and frog-marched inside a building that smelled like dust and decay. Our staggering footsteps echoed around what must have been a large open space. Then we’d been dumped in this locked room, our wrist ties cut, and the bags pulled from our heads.
“Stay here,” said the guy who seemed to be in charge of our kidnapping.
It was an unnecessary order. The door slammed, a lock clicking ominously. The room was dark—not quite pitch black, thanks to a barred and dusty window on one wall... but not far off. The only light that reached us was the faint glow of the city outside.
I heard a scuffle, and a darker shadow among all the other shadows disappeared into the farthest corner. It was Luca, his ragged breathing coming short and quiet.
“Byron?” I asked cautiously.
“Yeah.” The word was a bare rasp of a whisper.
“Are either of you hurt?” I tried.
Luca didn’t reply. The rhythm of the soft, frantic breathing in the corner remained unchanged.
“Stab wound.” Byron’s voice was tightly controlled.
My stomach dropped. “Where?”
“Thigh,” he said. “Don’t worry about it. You?”
“Bruises,” I said, hoping that if there was any more serious damage, it would keep. “What about Luca?”