Page 33 of Lock

“Where is he?”

I could hear the pure fury through the speaker.

“Where the hell is my son, Lachlan?”

I could tell it hit him then… I could hear it. The moment everything clicked into place on his end.

“He’s here.”

“Here where?” Rowan bit out. “You better not be saying what I think you’re about to say.”

“At the Crimson Havoc compound.”

I let the words fall slow, deliberate.

“He’s alive and asleep. That’s all you need to know right now.”

Silence came through the phone.

I could hear his breathing, harsh and heavy.

“If you’ve laid one hand?—”

“No one’s touched him but me.” The taunt slid out before I stopped it. “And that was to pick him up after he passed out in my van. For now.”

His inhale wasn’t subtle. I could feel his rage, but tangled in there was fear, alive and wild.

“I swear to God, Lock,” he growled, his voice breaking into something feral, “if you hurt him?—”

“You already did.”

The air in the hallway tightened. Even Grim’s eyes flicked my way.

“You want to say that again?” Rowan’s voice was low and lethal.

“You heard me,” I said. “You left him in a house with two half-dead guards and a fence a toddler could slip through. Mymen dropped them in under a minute. If we could do that… anyone could’ve.”

“You broke into my home!” Rowan roared. “You drugged my men. You stole my son. You think that isn’t war?”

“There it is,” Wraith murmured under his breath.

I didn’t flinch.

“Your men were obstacles,” I said, my voice flat. “They could have been casualties.”

“Fuck you, Lachlan,” Rowan barked.

“You should be grateful,” I added, ignoring him. “Your security was a joke. Anyone could’ve walked in tonight. We just happened to get there first.”

“You crossed a line, Lachlan,” Rowan spat.

“The point is one of your patched idiots split my brother’s skull,” I bit out. “Saint’s in a coma. And I want the man who did it.”

“You got proof?” Rowan snarled. “You got a name?”

“That’s why we’re talking,” I said. “You’re going to give me one.”

He laughed, vicious and humorless.