Page 3

KINGSTON

Wren. All I could see was her. All I could feel was the agony I’d caused.

My little warrior had been through so much already. A lifetime of trauma and torture. And I’d just inflicted more.

“Play it.” My voice wasn’t mine. The only familiar pieces were the alpha vibes bleeding from each note.

Puck muttered a curse as Locke clicked the play button with his mouse.

“Come on, Diablos bitch. No more fight left in you?” a raspy voice taunted. And it was one I knew.

“Angus,” Puck snarled, leaning forward.

The president of the Death Walkers MC stepped forward into view of the camera as Wren swung from the hook, the toes of her shoes barely grazing a cement floor.

Thick chains had been wrapped around her wrists and connected to the hook, and blood was everywhere.

On her arms, her face, her body. There were even splatters of it on the floor.

“She’s loyal,” Angus said, amusement in his tone as he glanced at the camera.

“I’ll give you that. Funny that you broke up our li’l flesh ring when it looks like you’ve got one of your own.

None of our girls looked as bad as yours.

” He traced a scar on Wren’s arm with a knife, slicing into her flesh and making blood ooze.

A soft moan slipped from Wren’s lips, but I couldn’t see her mouth, her face. All that dark-brown hair—matted now—hung in a sheet and blocked her from view.

“She does make the best sounds,” Angus taunted.

Puck shoved back from the desk, letting loose a stream of curses, his British accent growing thicker.

Angus grabbed a chunk of Wren’s hair and yanked her head back. “Whaddya think, bitch? You want to play a little more? Show those bastards just how pretty you scream?”

“Go—to—hell.” Wren’s words were more rasp than fully formed syllables, but Angus heard her just fine.

He slammed his knife into her side, the force of it making Wren’s body bow.

Snarls lit the air around me, and fur rippled over my arms. I wouldn’t be able to hold my wolf back for much longer. Not now.

“Tell. Me. Where. They. Are,” Angus demanded.

Wren’s head lolled to the side as he released her, like she was too weak to even hold it up anymore. Agony tore through me. My mate. Hurt. Tortured. Close to death. Because of us.

Angus moved into her space. “You will break, but I hope not too quickly. This is too much fun.” He grabbed her hair again. “Say hello to your fuck buddies.” He lifted the blade to her neck, and then the video shut off.

No one moved.

I wasn’t sure any of us even breathed. All I could hear was the blood roaring in my ears, pounding with panic and failure.

“She’s trying to protect us,” Locke whispered.

We all knew it. She was taking the pain so we stayed safe. Fucking hell. We didn’t deserve her. None of us. But especially me.

“It could be an act. Faking it to get us to do something. They’re probably going to ask for a ransom,” Ender argued.

I whirled on him. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

I’d barely gotten the sentence out before Locke’s fist crashed into Ender’s jaw. He followed it up with a jab to the nose that had a satisfying crunch piercing the air.

“Fucking hell,” Ender growled as Puck moved in to push Locke back. I knew it wasn’t for Ender’s benefit; it was for Locke’s. As much improvement as he’d made in hand-to-hand, Ender was a trained assassin and could kill Locke in two seconds flat if he wanted to.

“I’m not even allowed to state a possibility?” Ender snapped, grabbing for a paper towel to put under his nose.

“You can, but you’ll have to deal with the consequences.” My voice held no emotion as I moved into Ender’s space. I’d gone completely cold. “And if you say something like that about my mate again, I will see it as a challenge to my alpha status and grant you the duel.”

Surprise and the briefest flicker of fear flashed in Ender’s eyes. My wolf loved the terror. It fed him, gave him energy for the battle to come.

“Is that understood?” I growled.

Ender’s jaw worked back and forth. “Crystal fucking clear.” Shoving the paper towel under his nose, he turned on his heel and stalked out of The Lair.

Puck’s hand dropped from Locke’s chest, and he ran it through his hair, tugging hard on the strands. “He didn’t ask for anything.”

At least one of us had it somewhat together and was thinking logically. Because he was right. There’d been no request. The Death Walkers didn’t want money; they wanted vengeance. And they were using Wren to get it.

I stared hard at the screen, the final image up now, the knife pressed to Wren’s throat. “We have to find her.” Who knew how much time she had before Angus decided the best sort of vengeance was to kill her? “Locke, can you do something with the video? Find her location that way?”

He was already moving, sliding back into his chair, his fingers flying over the keyboard. “The video itself won’t have a location, but the email might.” Locke’s hands blurred with how fast they moved. “If they sent it from a device, it may give us information I can track.”

I hoped like hell these vindictive bastards were dumb and had left countless trails for us to find. Ones that would lead us straight to Wren.

“She’s not healing,” Puck said, his voice low.

“I know,” I rasped. I could see that Wren’s more recent wounds weren’t closing like they should have. It could happen when our systems were overloaded. When there was just too much damage. It meant she didn’t have the same kind of protections she’d typically have.

Puck squeezed the back of his neck hard. “And she’s not shifting.”

I knew that, too. It meant she was too weak. Too drained. Too close to death.

“I can’t lose her,” Puck whispered.

My eyes burned with the worst kind of pain. “That’s not going to happen.”

I spoke the words with a certainty I didn’t feel, hoping I could somehow speak the outcome into existence.

The typing stopped, sending Puck’s and my focus back to Locke and his computer. “What?” I demanded.

Locke simply stared at the screen for a long moment, then slowly turned around. “The IP address from that email?”

“Yeah? Where’s it coming from?” Puck demanded.

Locke looked up at him. “Inside Arcane.”