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I nod, not trusting myself to speak. The compulsion that drove me here has receded, but I can still feel it lurking at the edges of my consciousness—a shadow waiting to consume me once more. Lena’s blood, her body, the primal connection we’ve forged, has temporarily broken Dmitri’s hold.

But for how long?

“Can you walk?” she asks, already moving with efficient grace, gathering clothes for us both.

A hollow laugh escapes me. “Physically? Yes. Otherwise…” I let the words trail off. How do you walk away from the knowledge that you’re a murderer? That the case you’ve been investigating leads directly back to you?

Lena pauses, her expression softening. “One step at a time, Victor. That’s all any of us can do.”

She’s right, of course. So I stand on shaky legs, put on my pants. They’re torn at the knees but not as badly as the rest of my clothes. I must have run through all sorts of brush to reach her.

To capture her for Dmitri.

The thought sends a fresh wave of self-loathing through me, but I push it down. Later. I’ll reckon with it all later.

“There’s a tunnel,” Lena explains as she finishes dressing. “It leads directly to Abe’s main house. Safer than going outside, especially now.”

She moves to the far wall, pushing aside a heavy bookcase with inhuman ease to reveal a metal door set flush against the stone. It swings open silently, revealing a passageway lit by small electric bulbs spaced along the ceiling.

“Abe thinks of everything,” she says with a grim smile. “Even escape routes.”

The tunnel is cool and damp, the air heavy with the scent of earth and stone. We walk in silence, my thoughts churning with each step. What will Abe say when he learns what I am? What I’ve done? Will he see me as an abomination to be destroyed, or simply another victim of Dmitri’s madness?

More importantly, what happens when the compulsion returns? When Dmitri’s voice fills my head once more, commanding me to bring Lena to him?

The tunnel gradually slopes upward, ending at another metal door. Lena knocks—three short raps, then two longer ones. Acode, I realize, as the door immediately swings inward to reveal Valtu, tousled and alert despite the hour.

His eyes narrow as they land on me, taking in my disheveled appearance, the fact that I’m shirtless, and the tension radiating from both of us. “What happened?” he demands, stepping aside to let us enter what appears to be a wine cellar. “You’re back.”

“We need to speak with Abe,” Lena says. “With all of you. It’s urgent.”

“It’s early.” Valtu’s gaze shifts between us. His expression darkens, he sniffs the air. “You tracked her. How?”

“I don’t know,” I manage, meeting his accusatory stare. “I just did. But they’re going to come looking for her, looking for me.”

That gets his attention. Without another word, he leads us up a narrow staircase to the main floor of the house. The living room I saw during my first visit is transformed in the pre-dawn hours—shadows gathering in the corners, the ocean beyond the windows a vast darkness under the fading moon.

“Wait here,” Valtu says tersely. “I’ll wake the others.”

He disappears down a hallway, leaving Lena and me standing awkwardly in the silent house.

“It’ll be alright,” she says, reaching for my hand. I let her take it, though I don’t deserve the comfort she offers.

“Will it?” I ask, not bothering to hide the bitterness in my voice. “I’m Dmitri’s son, Lena. His weapon. I’ve already killed once under his control. Maybe I killed someone else. I’ve certainly killed people without anyone making me do it. There’s nothing ‘alright’ about any of this.”

Before she can respond, footsteps announce the arrival of the others. Abe appears first, wearing a silk robe hastily thrown over pajamas, his hair mussed from sleep. Ezra and Adonis follow, both looking considerably more put-together despite the early hour. Valtu brings up the rear, his expression guarded.

“Callahan,” Abe says, genuine relief in his voice. “Thank God you’re—” He stops abruptly, noticing something in my face or posture. “What’s happened?”

“Dmitri sent him,” Lena answers when I remain silent. “Compelled him somehow to track me down. Bring me back.”

A tense silence falls over the room. I force myself to meet their gazes, to withstand the judgment I deserve.

“But you didn’t,” Ezra observes, studying me with newfound interest. “You broke the compulsion.”

“Lena broke it,” I correct him. “I would have taken her straight to him otherwise.”

Or worse. But I don’t let my mind go there.