by Lara Adrian
Sia winced as he spoke, tenderness in her eyes.
“She lived in a rundown apartment building in one of the bigger cities. There were always men coming and going, often dozens in a day. Sometimes she sold them drugs. Other times she sold them her body. After a while, she started selling mine. She pimped me out to women, men, multiples. Anyone who would pay.”
Sia made a sickened, strangled noise. “You were just a child.”
“At fourteen I was hardly a child,” he corrected tonelessly. “But I knew nothing about sex or addiction. I didn’t know enough about people to realize she was using me.”
“She did more than use you, Trygg. What she did was unconscionable.”
He shrugged, in no need of sympathy. He knew his gaze was sharp and cutting as he held hers now, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t allow himself to care what Sia thought of him or he might finally break like he never had before.
“I traded one form of enslavement for another. Dragos kept me prisoner with a UV collar. Vicky chained me with kind words, at least at first. I let her trade me because I thought she cared about me, even loved me. When I finally saw through her lies, I told her I was leaving. To make sure she understood I was serious, I shaved my head to get rid of the long black hair she insisted I keep. She was livid. She came at my face with a kitchen knife.”
Sia swallowed, her horrified gaze drifting to his scar. “Oh, Trygg.”
He smiled coldly. “I could’ve stopped her before she cut me. I allowed it to happen. I let her ruin my looks, then I turned the blade on her and slit her throat. I left that same night and never looked back.”
Now Sia’s horror seemed to tilt on its axis. Good. Better she look at him with wariness, even fear, than let her last moments with him be ones of pity.
Trygg chuckled humorlessly. “I told you what I was, Sia. A killer. Maybe now you understand.”
She shook her head. “You defended yourself. But why did you let the wound stay after you left Vicky? You’re Breed. Your body should have healed itself before leaving a scar like that.”
“I didn’t want it to heal. I wanted a reminder, so I starved myself for blood as long as I could afterward. My body was too depleted to mend.”
“And you keep your hair shorn as a reminder too,” she murmured softly. “Trygg, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for everything you’ve had to endure.”
He blew out a harsh breath. “Don’t be. You asked for answers, and I gave them to you. Now, go back to your perfect, sheltered little world with your people and leave me to my business here.”
He turned away from her as a dismissal, waiting to hear her footsteps leaving the room. But she didn’t leave. She came up behind him and her hands rested gently on his back.
“What more do you want, Sia?”
“I want you. Don’t you see that?” Her cheek was warm where she pressed it against him. “Don’t let me walk away like this. I want to feel your arms around me again. I need it, Trygg. Even if it’s the last time.”
He stiffened, steeling himself to all of the emotions that warred inside him at the thought of her leaving for good. When he pivoted to face her, he knew his eyes were ablaze with amber. “One last fuck before you go, is that it?” His words were cruel, but they were the only defensive weapon he had as he stared into her stricken gaze. “I don’t perform on command anymore, Sia. And I don’t need your pity.”
She staggered back on her heels. Tears welled in her wide blue eyes, but they didn’t fall. Her breast was heaving, her mouth slack as she mutely shook her head.
Then she slowly turned away from him and walked out the door.
Chapter 13
Sia felt numb as she left Trygg’s quarters.
Her heart broke for the unimaginable pain and abuse he’d described. She ached to comfort him, but he hadn’t wanted that. He wanted nothing from her anymore, and his rejection opened up a hollow inside her unlike anything she’d ever known.
All the more reason for her to go and never look back.
But leaving Trygg was the last thing she felt ready to do.
Bella and Melena were waiting in the room when she returned. They took one look at her stricken face and rushed to her, ushering her back inside with tender words of concern.
“What happened? Are you all right?”
“Come in and sit down, Sia. You look as if you’re about to collapse.”
She felt like she could crumble, and the depth of her sorrow shocked her. “I really should go,” she murmured, shaking her head. “You’ve all been so kind, and I appreciate that more than you can know. But I have things to attend to before I—”
The sound of heavy boot falls pounding in the corridor drew all of the women’s attention.
Melena’s brows knit in apprehension. “What on earth?”
She and Bella hurried out to the hallway. Sia followed anxiously behind them, just in time to see Trygg jogging past dressed in full combat gear.
“Has something happened?” Bella asked.
He slanted the women a look as he passed, his gaze barely skimming Sia’s. “The tracer we put on Santino’s email address just spit out an alert. He’s got a cargo shipment leaving the port of Naples in two hours, heading for Trapani.”
“What happened to reconnaissance?” Melena asked Lazaro as her mate and Savage joined Trygg in the corridor, all of them garbed for combat. “I thought JUSTIS was going to handle the takedown?”
“No time for reconnaissance,” Lazaro said. “Lucan wants this handled now. JUSTIS can thank us afterward.”
Melena and Bella offered hasty but tender good-byes to their mates, while Sia stood by awkwardly, watching Trygg head out to the waiting vehicle with grim, solitary purpose.
In moments, the team had departed, leaving the women to monitor the mission back at the command center. Sia probably should have taken that as her cue to leave, but nothing could have persuaded her to go when she knew Trygg and his comrades were heading into a potentially lethal confrontation.
She hurried into the war room with the two Breedmates and settled in for what she feared was going to be a long, worrisome night.
* * * *
Just under two hours later, Trygg and his teammates arrived in the crowded, ancient city of Naples. The port was busy with tugboats and container ships loading and unloading in the dark. Impossible to determine which of the half dozen holds might contain Santino’s goods.
Trygg and Savage split up to cover more ground on foot, each of them keeping to the shadows as they sniffed around the crates and cartons of incoming and outgoing supplies. Lazaro had set out on his own to see if he might spot Santino or any of his lieutenants lurking around the wharf or in town. If the kingpin’s messages were anything to go by, tonight’s shipment was a high-value, top-priority one for his organization.
Which almost certainly meant a shitload of Red Dragon.
“Got a lot of movement on the south dock,” Savage reported over the receiver in Trygg’s ear. “I’m going in for a closer look.”
“Copy that,” Trygg murmured.
He had his eye on another cargo ship—a smaller one that was calling little attention to itself as its lines were cast off and it moved quietly away from the far end of the moonlit wharf. Whatever this unremarkable ship carried, it was apparently already secured inside.
Trygg’s Hunter instincts prickled to attention.
This was Santino’s ship, he had no doubt.
Although his orders were to surveil the docks and report to his teammates with any unusual activity, there was no time to waste. If he wanted a look at what that ship carried, he was going to have to get on board.
“I think I found something,” he whispered into his comm device. “I’m going in.”
Without waiting for a reply, he sped to the end of the dock and leapt off. His Breed agility carried him straight up to the rear deck. He landed soundlessly, dropping into a tight roll that took him behind a large wooden crate.
A group of five crew m
embers in gray coveralls manned the deck. They didn’t notice him as he crept along in the dark, making his way to the stairwell that led to the holds below as the ship pushed farther out to sea. He waited a few minutes until the coast was clear, then he ducked inside and headed down the metal steps.
In his ear, Lazaro’s deep voice crackled in a broken string of impatient words. “Trygg. DC. Intel. Abort.”
Shit. Even garbled and full of static, that didn’t sound good.
But Trygg was already in the cargo hold, and he could smell the sickly sweet odor of Red Dragon coming from the cartons stacked row upon row in front of him. He freed the lock on one of the containers and threw off the cables that secured it. Prying open the lid of the large carton, he peered inside. It wasn’t what he expected.
Instead of a carton packed to the gills with the Breed-killing narcotic, there were only a few sealed bags inside. Just enough to leave a scent for anyone searching for them. Anyone Breed, that is.
Specifically, someone from the Order.
Jesus Christ.
Trygg reached in and moved some of the bags aside.
The real cargo lay beneath them. Trygg’s nostrils filled with the acrid metallic odor of explosives. Enough to take down half a city block.
Or a small cargo ship.
* * * *
“Oh, my God.” Melena’s face went slack as she ended her call with Lazaro. “It’s all been a trap.”
Bella gaped. “A trap? What do you mean?”
“They were set up. The intel Trygg’s email worm provided was false. Santino only wanted the Order to think he had a shipment of Red Dragon leaving Naples. He was hoping to lure them out to intercept the shipment for some reason.”
Bella’s gaze was grave. “There’s only one reason for him to do that.”
Sia saw the worry in her friends’ faces and knew her own must look equally stark. “Where’s Trygg?”
Melena gave her a sober look. “Lazaro lost contact with him a couple of minutes ago. He’s been trying to warn him, but something is hampering their comm devices. Lazaro thinks it’s some kind of a signal block.”
Sia’s heart sank with dread as each second ticked past. “Where is Trygg, Melena?”
“He’s on the ship. He jumped on board by himself as it was leaving port.” She shook her head in sober apology. “Lazaro doesn’t know if any of his attempts to reach Trygg have gone through or not.”
“Someone has to warn him.” Panic flooded her, along with a crippling sense of grief.
No. Whatever this trap of Santino’s might be, it would not claim Trygg. He was too strong for that. Too smart.
But that didn’t keep the fear from taking hold of her.
The man she loved was in danger, cut off from communication and possibly totally unaware that he and his comrades had just played right into Santino’s hands.
“Someone needs to find Trygg before it’s too late.”
Melena nodded. “Lazaro and Savage are working on that. They’ll get him, Sia.”
“What if they don’t?” Her voice rose along with her alarm. “What if they’re too late?”
Anxiously, she paced over to the large illuminated map on the war room wall. Two red dots glowed in the area of Naples. The third was missing. Trygg’s signal, cut off by the same block preventing his teammates from reaching him.
“Where is the cargo ship located?”
“I don’t know exactly,” Melena said. “Lazaro didn’t say.”
“Find out, Melena. Do it quickly. Please.”
“All right.” She called her mate and asked him for the information. When it seemed to take more than a few seconds for the reply, Sia marched over and took the phone out of her friend’s hand.
“I need the exact coordinates, Lazaro. As close as you can pinpoint.”
She stood in front of the map as he rattled off an approximate location several miles out to sea. Sia concentrated on that spot on the map. It wasn’t exact, but it would have to do.
It might be the only hope she had.
Sia tossed the phone back to Melena, then turned all of her focus onto the bracelet on her wrist. The tiny orb of Atlantean crystal began to glow. It kept burning brighter, until it finally lit up like a supernova.
And then she was gone.
Chapter 14
Sia splashed down into cold, dark water.
Her body plunged below the surface, down and down and down, as giant waves rolled above her. A sudden, bright orange light erupted as she struggled to climb back up. The percussion shook the sea all around her, her head throbbing with the sudden boom of a massive explosion.
No!
She fought her way to the surface, gulping in mouthfuls of salt water with each panicked cry.
No. She couldn’t be too late.
“Trygg!” She started screaming his name the instant her head emerged from the waves.
The sea lapped at her face, briny and cold. Filling her lungs, soaking her clothes, the waves threatened to drag her under. She swam toward the fireball that bobbed several hundred yards away, her heart breaking as she stared at the total obliteration of what had been the cargo ship Lazaro had directed her to.
“Trygg!”
Sia swiped at her salt-crusted eyes and peered into the darkness. But as she searched the waves and floating debris, he was nowhere to be found.
She sucked in a mouthful of air and dove down, forcing her eyes open and using her preternaturally keen sight to look for shapes in the black water.
The search was grueling, horrific. Trygg hadn’t been the only man on board Santino’s booby-trapped ship. Sia swam past limbs and other grotesque remnants of the crew who’d apparently been unaware they were sailing to their deaths.
But then she saw the large shape of a man she’d know anywhere.
And to her relief, Trygg’s body was intact.
She swam to him, propelled by a grim sense of elation. He was alive. But he was unconscious in the water, his face down, bleeding profusely. By some miracle, he had survived the explosion, but it wouldn’t take long for the sharks to come. There was no time to assess the severity of his wounds. She needed to get him on dry land first.
The lights of Naples and the rest of Italy’s coastline twinkled in the far distance. Sia could make the long swim with Trygg in tow, but the steep, jagged island of Capri was closer.
She swam with Trygg’s unmoving body into the arched shelter of a cave at the base of the rocky island, calling upon her Atlantean strength and speed to take them there swiftly. Laying him gently on the small, sandy incline inside, she tore away his shredded black clothing and took in the extent of his injuries.
She wanted to be thankful that he was alive, but his wounds were far more severe than she’d realized in the water. Everywhere she looked, his skin was torn and riddled with lacerations and contusions. His face too. His rugged, scarred, beautiful face.
“Oh, Trygg,” she whispered, leaning down to rest her cheek against his. “I’m sorry I didn’t reach you sooner. Please wake up.”
He was Breed, and while she didn’t know how long it had been since he’d last fed, no amount of human blood would be able to mend so many injuries. And these were just the ones she could see. Internally, he must be hurting too.
Before long, he would be dying.
Sia could do nothing to stifle the sob that broke loose from her throat. “Trygg, please don’t leave me. I love you. I can’t lose you like this.”
He didn’t respond. His breathing was shallow, too slow.
He needed blood badly.
If he had a Breedmate like Melena or Bella, their blood might be strong enough to nourish his dying cells and organs before death took him. But Trygg needed something even more powerful than that.
Sia had the power to save him.
Her Atlantean blood was immortal. She could revive him, but like a Breedmate, to feed him her blood meant binding him to her forever. But worse than that, she would be doing it without his consent.<
br />
Shackling him to her much the same way he had been enslaved by Dragos and then Vicky. Except that with Sia, that shackle would be unbreakable.
It would be forever.
She couldn’t think of anything she’d enjoy more than having him at her side for the rest of her days, but Trygg might disagree. He might despise her for taking the choice away from him, even if death was the only other alternative.
He choked on blood and water, tiny bubbles spilling over his lips. She didn’t have much time to decide. If she waited much longer, not even she could save him.
On a miserable groan, she pulled one of his daggers loose from its sheath on his belt. The blade glinted like quicksilver in the darkness of the grotto.
“Forgive me,” she whispered, then sliced the edge of the razor-sharp steel into her wrist and held the bleeding wound to his mouth.
* * * *
Trygg’s senses came back online as if he’d been jump-started by the sun itself.
Light poured into him, warm and silky and profoundly powerful. Wave upon wave roared through his body, mending every limb and organ, infusing every cell. Bringing him back from the depths of a cold blackness that he was certain should have been his death.
Had been, he realized, as his conscious mind began piecing everything together.
The cargo ship.
The decoy shipment of Red Dragon.
The payload of hidden explosives that blew up just as he was leaping off the deck of the boat to escape Santino’s trap.
And now this.
The light.
The power.
