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As I turned back to Leo, I could practically see a circular buffering logo in his bloodshot eyes. He snarled towards me, and I gave him my most professional smile as I squeezed his shoulder slightly.

“Hello, my name’s Emerson Richter. I believe you’ve been looking for me. Now, I’m told you have someone important of mine. Tell me where he is, and you might get to leave this building with some of your teeth still in your mouth.”

Shaking off my hand, he cracked his knuckles. It would’ve been intimidating if I didn’t more than match his size. And this man didn’t smell like an alpha. “How ‘bout you gimme the diary, and no one ‘ere gets hurt?”

Summoning my inner-Trystan, I pretended to think for a moment. “Hm, can’t say I know of any book here, at least not one with enough pictures for you to be able to read. I do know of a lumbering idiot already on his last warning, though. Maybe you know him? Huge frame, terrible breath, learned to tie his shoes last week?”

His fist met my lip, and I tasted blood. Perfect.

I chuckled, wiping my chin with my thumb as I leaned into my alpha instincts. “Oh, I’m so glad you threw the first punch. Now, I get to do this.”

He dodged my first punch, but he didn’t expect the second one to hit him square on the nose. It crunched under my knuckles as the perfect sound of payback, but I didn’t ease up. My fists kept swinging until he was on the ground, his breathing reduced to a wet wheezing.

As security finally crowded behind me, I squatted next to Leo, looking him up and down. He’d live, unfortunately.

“You’re going to have a hell of a time dealing with assault charges against a lawyer. So, if I were you, I’d start talking.” Fisting his shirt, I tugged him off the ground enough to growl in his face, pushing every drop of alpha fury into my words. “Tell me, where is Trystan? Where the fuck is my omega?”

Chapter Seventeen

Trystan

Theairwasstickyand damp on my skin when I woke up. I didn’t have the energy to open my eyes, but I could feel my pulse throbbing in my forehead. Weird. I didn’t remember drinking. Didn’t remember much of anything after Emerson went to work.

Wait. I’d showered—had to clean up after the night we’d had. Then pancakes, but I didn’t get to eat them. My stomach cramped. I definitely hadn’t eaten in a while. But why didn’t I…

The door. Roman.

Fuck.

I forced my eyes open and took in my situation. Whoever brought me here had dumped me on my stomach, and judging by the numbness in my cheek against the concrete floor, I’d been here a while. My lack of movement and the pain in my biceps meant my hands were bound behind me. Why was this becoming a familiar way for me to wake up? But unlike last time,whatever held me pulled at the skin of my wrists and ankles. Ah, my old friend, duct tape.

A soft, familiar voice reached my ears. “Trystan? A-Are you awake?”

Craning my neck, I searched for the source of the voice and spotted a small blond curled in the corner. “Pearl? Fuck, what are you doing here?”

She looked awful. Hair that had previously been in a tight, high ponytail was dishevelled around her pale face, barely held up by the light pink scrunchie atop her head. Dark circles surrounded her eyes, a mix of a lack of sleep and the remains of makeup. Dirt covered her pastel leggings and sweater. How long had she been here?

Pearl’s lip quivered. “I don’t know. I was helping out after-hours yesterday, then I was gonna go to the gym. He offered me a lift, and I got in the car, but…everything’s fuzzy after that. I woke up here alone, and I’ve been so scared…”

She sniffed, and her body shook, but she looked too dehydrated to cry. Rolling up into a sitting position, I bum-shuffled over to her and leaned next to her, attempting an awkward, armless hug.

“Hey, it’s okay. We’re gonna be okay, Pearl.” I pressed my cheek on the top of her head as she leaned into me, sniffling quietly. As shitty as our situation was, at least she seemed to find some comfort in my presence.

The room we’d been left in was sparse, nothing but a concrete floor and a table and chairs in the middle of the room. Hell, we didn’t even have flattened cardboard to sit on. Worst basement prison ever.

A tiny window—too small for me to climb through, but possibly big enough for Pearl—let in sunlight from the top of the wall opposite the stairs. I doubted the door up there would beunlocked, but we’d need to get free of the tape before we could find out.

“We need something sharp to break through the tape. Look around for a stone, a wire, anything with an edge will work.”

Pearl’s eyes lit up. “Oh! I have a key inside my scrunchie.”

My brain took a second to reboot. I’d never heard those words in that order before.

“You what?”

She grinned and pushed her head against the wall, rubbing her ponytail back and forth, steadily loosening it. “There’s a pocket in my scrunchie I keep my spare house key in. Some jerk stole my bag at the gym a few years back, so I’ve always kept a spare for emergencies and for going on runs.”

“You’re a fucking genius.”