Chapter 91
“He’ll skin me alive!”
He started thrashing again. Harder this time.
And then-
His jaw clamped down with a sharp, audible crack.
I surged forward. “What-”
Foam bubbled at his lips. He convulsed, silver–tinged saliva spilling down his chin. His eyes
went wide. Terror. Regret.
And then–nothing.
Brock dropped to his knees beside him. “He bit down on something. Shit. Mouth capsule?”
“Yeah,” I said quietly, pulse thudding in my ears. I leaned forward, sniffed near the rogue’s
mouth.
“Cyanide. Laced with silver.”
Brock leaned back, wiping a hand across his face. “Those aren’t cheap.”
I stared down at the body. “No. They’re not.”
“Someone’s backing this faction,” Brock said grimly. “Someone with money. Access.”
“And discipline,” I added. “He was more afraid of Pierce than of death.”
A gust of wind stirred the ashes near the drum.
I turned toward it, my jaw tight. “Get me everything from that burn barrel. All of it. Every flake of ash, every charred shred.”
Brock motioned to the others. “Bag it up. Handle it like evidence. We take it to the
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packhouse. Now.”
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I stood in the middle of the ruined yard, the rogue’s corpse at my feet, the burned drum to
my right, and the wind blowing grit across the tracks.
Pierce was obviously a man we’d need to deal with very, very carefully.
I’d find him. He wasn’t just a ghost anymore.
He had a name. A network. And money.
ELENA
The first thing I noticed was the cold.
My cheek pressed against something firm and scratchy. My limbs were heavy, leaden,
tingling with numbness. My head pounded, like something was trying to claw its way out from behind my eyes. My mouth was dry–so dry–and every breath scraped down my
throat.
I pushed up slowly, every movement a battle. The room was dim, square, and windowless. The only light came from a flickering fluorescent panel above the door. Bare walls. Metal cot. No windows. No Aiden.
I blinked hard, trying to clear my vision.
“Aiden?” I croaked, but the sound barely left my throat.
Panic stabbed through me. Where was he?
I pushed myself to my knees, bracing against the wall. My pulse thundered. The last thing I remembered was the pool, the too–sweet drink, Aiden pulling on his hoodie-
I swayed and grabbed the cot for balance.
Where was he? Where was my baby?
I opened my mouth to scream his name–but a soft noise stopped me cold.
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Clink. Clink. Shhhh.
A whisper, faint and urgent, like breath through a grate.
I looked up.
+25 Bonus
A square vent cover near the ceiling was loose, just enough to see movement behind it. I stared, frozen, until a small hand gripped the edge.
Then a familiar hoodie appeared.
Aiden.
My eyes flooded with tears, and I pressed a fist to my mouth, catching the name before it escaped.
He crawled out just far enough to peek down at me, dirt–smudged and wild–eyed. Smiling that crooked grin.
He put a finger to his lips. “Mom,” he whispered, barely audible. “I’m okay. I didn’t drink
- it. I pretended to be asleep too.”
I nodded, my throat thick.
“They put us in here together,” he continued. “I waited ‘til they left, then climbed up.
There’s a vent that leads out–at least I think so.”
“How long-?” My voice was raw.
“An hour or two. Maybe? They took your phone. You were out a long time.” He blinked, his voice shaking just a little. “I thought maybe-”
A clatter echoed down the hall.
Aiden went rigid.
Voices.
Footsteps.
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My heart lurched as he scrambled back into the vent.
I stood, arms out to help him, but he dropped down beside me just as the lock clicked on the
door.
He yanked the vent cover shut behind him with trembling fingers.
We both stared at it, breath held.
The panel didn’t sit quite flush.
Would they notice?
J
I looked down at him. For some reason, I knew it would be a bad thing if they found us both awake.
“Lay on the cot,” I whispered quickly, as I heard a key being inserted in the door’s lock. “Pretend you’re still asleep.”
He nodded and quickly flopped down.
The door creaked open.
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