Page 28 of Eternal Light (Fated in the Stars #5)

In the Heart of Turmoil (Luca)

Of all the places Luca has been—all over the world—and all the times he’s woken up wondering where the fuck he was, he has never smelled this much like debauchery: red wine, come, and…motor oil in a bakery?

What the fuck.

The day from hell floods back like a tsunami.

He can feel Nix leaning on him, and the scent of his mate’s sweet vanilla with that subtle thread of magical patchouli, gives Luca comfort where otherwise he would be freaking out.

Probably because his stomach is roiling, and it feels like ants are crawling all over his skin.

It’s the BBS—so horrifyingly familiar because it means he’s been away from Gideon for far too long. Then again, to be fair, any time away from Gideon feels way too long.

He nudges Nix to wake him up, because he meant what he said in the garage before—he does not like to be alone with his thoughts when they’re all over the place.

What if Carnell figures out Luca is sick because of Broken Bond Syndrome? He’s never asked Gideon, but he would guess Gideon hasn’t told his father he has a soulmate.

He’ll have to think of a plausible story Nix can tell if he suddenly starts puking his guts up. He doesn’t want to think about what comes after that.

“Nix.”

“I’m awake. Just resting my eyes. Are you feeling okay?” Nix asks, running his hands absently over his belly—soothing them or himself, Luca can’t be sure.

“Shit. You must be starving.” His own hunger pains are persistent, and Nix is eating for four: their kids, himself, and to compensate for Grayson’s magical draw.

“S’okay. Been there, done that.”

The reminder is like a punch to the gut, and Luca may look lazy to an outsider, but he is a brilliant problem solver.

“I’m going to get us some grub,” he says, planning to bang on the door until someone comes and brings them a sandwich. Luca would eat grits ( ew ) if it meant Nix eats, too.

“No. Lauren told us to lie low. I’m fine. The girls are fine.”

Their call to Lauren had been short and sweet. She’d said she’d tell the others where they were and that they were alright, but said not to rock the boat until she had a plan.

“You say that, but I can tell you’re feeling like shit. Who’s going to kick ass if Withers comes back when you’ve collapsed from lack of food and water?”

Nix smiles and kisses his cheek. He pulls out their stolen phone to show him it’s almost out of battery. It’s almost midnight, but there’s a running timer counting down the minutes of oxygen they have left in the cellar.

As Luca watches, it goes from fifty-two minutes to fifty-one minutes and fifty-nine seconds.

“We’re going to have bigger problems soon. Best stay calm.”

Calm? Ha. Luca is quickly moving from calm to I-need-Gideon-right-the-fuck-now.

Feeling helpless is such a foreign concept these days that it’s adding to the runaway train that is a full-blown panic attack.

“Luca!” Nix says firmly. “Look at me.”

Luca does, and Nix smiles his best reassuring smile. He’s pumping out the sweetest vanilla-and-baby-bread scent, and Luca can’t help but tip forward into Nix’s throat to get an even more intense version.

“There we go. Good boy. Okay. I think it’s time I tried a few things to get us out of here. I have three plans, and none really sound great, given that they all have an element of risk. Can you help me decide?”

Luca nods and murmurs a vague affirmative—the idea of a problem to solve resetting his brain like magic.

“Good. Okay, Plan A is I start trashing the wine in here to create enough noise that Carnell hears and opens the door. It’ll solve our O2 problem, but will undoubtedly piss him off.

Plus, there’ll be a fuckton of broken glass and we’re barefoot.

I heal pretty quick, providing there’s no glass actually embedded—but you are extra vulnerable. ”

Ouch.

“What’s Plan B?”

“Well, Plan B involves me pulling the control panel off the wall in hopes that the default is the door pops open, and then we can get out of here like the super spies we are. Undetected. The downside is we could potentially fuck the system even from the outside, and then they won’t be able to get us out of here at all. ”

“Shit.”

“Yeah. But it’s the fastest of the plans.”

“And Plan number three?”

“I call the emergency services number with the last of the battery. But…I’m not sure they’ll take us seriously, and I don’t know if there’s someone in the police department who’s on Carnell’s payroll.

Plus, it brings outsiders into our plan, and when Carnell turns up dead, they might come looking for me. ”

Luca won’t tell Gideon that Nix intends to do the honors again.

If it gets them home and out of this mess, Luca doesn’t care two figs about who does it. The shortest distance between alive and dead has Luca’s vote.

“Okay. Is there anything that says we can’t do all three? In order of desperation?”

Nix’s eyes widen; he hadn’t thought of that at all.

“So we start with a ruckus, move on to the control panel, and then, as a last resort, call the cops? We’ll have to set a deadline, because we are down to ten percent battery.”

They’re good plans—less than ideal, but still good.

But Luca has one more to add—and it’s like he read Nix’s mind from earlier.

“Hey, do you think you could break the glass? What if we try that first?”

Luca is thinking about the YouTube video he watched on glass-blowing and wine-making about a year ago, and how he could use broken glass to create a weak point for Super-Nix, when he looks up to find Carnell’s butler standing on the other side of the glass.

If the guy didn’t work for a psychopath, Luca might let himself believe he had kind eyes. He’s tall, and his face is lined with the evidence of hard living. Maybe mid-thirties, but the burden of working for Carnell shows in his expression.

The code box beeps, and fresh air floods into the room as the door opens.

“I’m Connall. Hurry,” he says, with no explanation about where they’re going or why.

He disappears toward the hallway, but Nix doesn’t hesitate. He grabs Luca’s hand and drags him after the virtual stranger—who smells like winter snow.

They take the stairs two at a time but stop abruptly at the top, where the alpha listens for movement on the other side of the closed door.

“Where are we going?” Nix whispers.

The butler raises a finger to his lips and opens the door. The brightly lit, state-of-the-art kitchen is empty and spotless.

“Out,” Connall whispers, pointing to a door that must lead to the rear of the house—convenient for deliveries and service staff.

Why this man would help them is baffling, but Luca is ready for an ally and wastes no time reaching for the doorknob.

“The code to the gate is—”

Except the butler doesn’t get to finish his sentence before another voice stops them all cold.

“Well, hello there.”

Connall stops, and someone not traumatized enough to spot it might have missed the anticipatory tensing of his broad shoulders. The big man is ready for violence of some kind, and he steels his expression before turning around.

“Mr. Withers.” The butler bows but offers no explanation for his actions or their presence in the kitchen.

The house’s A/C unit clicks on, flooding the kitchen with the smell of rotten meat.

Dressed in short silk pajamas covered in Versace’s emblem and velvet slippers, Withers settles against the countertop, head supported by his hand. The style reveals bare legs and arms covered in open sores and yellowish pus—so much so that the fabric clings in places.

It’s as ridiculous as it is gross, like seeing a grim reaper dressed for lounging in a luxury brand—and Donatella will not be calling on him as a new ambassador.

“Where are you taking our guests? I was just on my way to fetch them, and yet here they are. With you,” Withers says in a sing-song tone.

Connall’s eye twitches, and his nostrils flare, but he maintains a straight face before stating, “They must be hungry. I am sure Mr. Carnell prefers them alive.”

It’s a very subtle criticism of Withers’s treatment of them.

Withers is—sadly, and to Luca’s current detriment—not fooled.

But the two men are playing a strange game of chicken that Luca is also sure he wants no part of.

For a butler, Connall has a big aura.

“I gotta pee,” Luca blurts out when it looks like Withers is going to break and do something they’re all going to regret.

Connall’s mouth twitches, but he points to a small alcove off the large kitchen. “In there. I’ll get you some food.”

Luca grabs Nix’s hand, and in seconds, they’re locked in the small powder room. Luca drops onto the toilet to pee—because he was not lying about that—while Nix drinks from the tap in great gulps.

They switch places once he’s finished so Luca can wash his hands, dragging them along his neck to remove even more of the oil and wine.

“Shit,” Nix whispers, as he runs the tap to wash—and to create ambient noise. “We were so close.”

“Again,” Luca sighs.

After Nix turns the tap off, he dries his hands on the pristine white towel. He then crouches down to search through the cabinet under the sink.

“What are you looking for?” Luca asks, but there’s nothing under there except a First-Aid kit and extra toilet paper.

Opening the First-Aid kit, Nix rummages around until he finds an anti-nausea med. He pops a single dose out from the bubble sheet and hands it to Luca.

Next are two painkillers.

“That should help a tiny bit. We don’t want you to get too sleepy,” he suggests, tucking a lock of Luca’s hair behind his ear.

“You’re my favorite.” Luca kisses him and throws the meds back with a bit more water. “Thanks.”

They’re interrupted by a loud knock, and Nix shuts the cabinet door as quietly as possible.

“We’re almost done. Geesh. Rude much?” Luca yells.

Withers is on the other side of the door when they cautiously open it, leaning back against the narrow strip of wall with his arms crossed like he has nothing better to do and nowhere else to be.

“Come along. Carnell wants you on the patio.”

At midnight?