by Olivia Ash
I lift my chin defiantly, wondering where his armies are. This hallway is a long, empty stretch without doors—the only access points for a military are around the various corners about fifty feet on either end of us, and I would have heard them lying in wait.
Then again, I didn’t hear Ian. Between his eerie ability to stand utterly still and the painfully loud speakers, he screwed with my ability to detect the enemy.
This has to be a trap. Otherwise, it would be too easy to kill him.
“Looking for the trick?” Ian says into the phone so that his voice booms again over the speakers.
“Cut that out,” I demand, annoyed.
“No, I think I like it.” He grins obnoxiously. “It makes me sound like God, don’t you think?”
Jace briefly looks over his shoulder, and a sudden look of panic crosses his face.
“Move!” Jace shouts, shoving me out of the way. I hit the wall hard, my head banging against it as a massive pulse of energy shoots down the hallway at us. Jace tries to swerve out of the way, but it hits him hard in the chest. He rolls, a hole burned in his shirt, steam rising from his body as he lies unconscious on the floor.
“Jace!” Though my head aches, I push myself to my feet, ready to race toward him.
“Stay where you are, princess,” a familiar man’s voice says from behind me. He looks at Jace and whistles in delight. “Man, I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to do that!”
I grit my teeth, looking over my shoulder to find Guy Durand with a massive handheld cannon, smoke billowing from the strange mechanical fixture attached to its barrel. He aims it toward me, sneering, and the end begins to spark to life.
“Stop, idiot,” Ian snaps.
Guy’s smile falters, and he lowers the cannon like a wounded dog who just got yelled at by its master.
With a disgusted sneer, Ian taps something on his phone and shoves the device in his pocket. “Well, Rory dear, I apologize for the help’s behavior,” he nods toward Guy like the man is an insect. “He’s new.”
I frown, not sure what to do.
There has to be a bit of a fight—I can’t let Ian think he got me too easily.
But with Jace hurt, there’s suddenly a very large wrench in my plan.
My eyes flit down to the thunderbird. Thankfully, his chest slowly rises and falls, but it looks like he’s hurt pretty bad. Though I want to run to him, to check on him, I don’t want to get a pulse from that cannon, too. It won’t do any good if we’re both unconscious.
“Cuff them, moron.” Ian snaps his fingers at Guy.
The former Fairfax dragon grumbles and sets down the cannon far away from me. Strange metal domes hang from his belt by chains, their barrels large enough for hands to fit through, and I suddenly see where this is going.
It’s cute that he put the cannon down, though. He must have thought this would be easy.
I tense, looking inward and tapping into my magic as I prepare to take him out.
The click of a gun cocking snaps through the air.
I tilt my head slightly to see Ian with a pistol aimed at Jace’s head. The Vaer Lord watches me with one eyebrow raised, as if seeing what I’m going to make him do.
Damn it.
Begrudgingly, I lift my hands in surrender.
Guy roughly slides the heavy cuffs over my fingers like mittens, the metal domes engulfing my hands completely.
The moment the iron touches my skin, my body feels weaker. My knees buckle slightly as the device seems to drain the magic from me.
Ian shoves his gun in a holster hidden beneath his suit coat and walks toward me, roughly tapping the metal cuffs with a thick finger. “A little measure for added protection, since you so enjoy punching people.”
As Guy locks the second pair of cuffs on Jace’s hands, the dojo master groggily comes to. He glares up at Guy, still groggy, but clear-headed enough to know who he’s looking at.
His nose wrinkled in disgust. “I should’ve killed you when I had the chance.”
“Guess so,” the former Fairfax dragon says with a sneer. “Get up.” He kicks Jace roughly in the side. The dojo master grits his teeth, hissing briefly in pain, but manages to hide most of the agony.
The thunder of boots hitting the ground echoes down the hallway, and two dozen soldiers round the far corner. Each wears the black uniform of the Vaer and carries a rifle. They approach in fluid fashion, perfectly in step, no doubt a show of force from Ian.
I glare at him over my shoulder, and he grins back.
Jace gets to his feet, teetering slightly and wincing in pain. Though my hands are cuffed in front of me, I lean my shoulder into him, trying to help him up.
“I’m fine,” he says quietly, glaring at the men around us. “Stay focused.”
“Want to see your sister?” Ian asks smugly. “Before I kill her, of course, since you broke the terms of our agreement.”
“We never had an agreement,” I snap back. “And if you kill her, Ian, nothing in this world can save you from what I’m going to do to you.” I nod toward the soldiers. “Not even them.”
He grins, giving me a once over. “You’ve been fun prey, Rory,” he says with a chuckle. “Truthfully, I expected a better rescue attempt, but it will still be sad to see this end.”
With that, he snaps his fingers and walks down the hallway. Guy roughly shoves me after the Vaer Lord, and I shoot the traitor an evil glare as I follow.
So far, it seems like Ian hasn’t picked up on the nuances of my plan. Good, because it’s all finally starting to come together.
Now, to see if all the pieces of the puzzle fit as I thought they would—or if everything is about to fall apart at the worst possible time.
With stakes this high, there’s no middle ground.
Chapter Thirty
A metal door in the wall slides open, and Guy roughly shoves me and Jace through the doorway.
The spacious room inside is mostly empty, except for a familiar metal hospital bed similar to the one Zurie was strapped to. And, laying on it—
Irena.
My throat tightens, and it takes everything in me to not run to her. Finally, after all this time, I’ve found her.
And she does not look good.
Her skin is ghostly white, so pale I almost expect to see clear through it. Her hair is dry and frizzy, a few strands clinging to her cheek. Four monitors arranged above her head display various vitals, and I anxiously look for the pulse.
It’s weak. Her heart’s barely beating.
My training kicks in, and I scan the room for weaknesses and exit points. Unfortunately, there’s no green goo in sight. No antidote. Damn, I was really counting on it being in here.
I grit my teeth in frustration, trying not to let my emotions get the best of me, and continue my scan. Metal panels line the room, but one panel on the wall opposite me is not like the others. The color is slightly off, as if it’s made of different material than the rest.
A secret door.
Based on the blueprints, this is probably one that leads to the tunnels. That’s a good sign because, aside from that one option, we’re screwed—no windows, no other doors, not even a vent big enough to crawl through.
Jace leans into me, and despite the danger, my skin blisters with warmth and longing at his touch. My body instinctively leans toward him as we each scan the room, formulating backup plans.
“She doesn’t have long,” Jace mutters to me with a small nod toward Irena.
“I know.”
Ian walks in behind us and takes a deep breath, like he’s outside enjoying the fresh air. Hands in his suit pockets, he casually strolls around the small room with a grin on his face.
“I’m a little disappointed,” he admits, running his palm along his red silk tie to flatten it. “I expected more of a firefight. A bit of foreplay, maybe.” He chuckles, his gaze drifting to my chest and along the curves of my thighs.
I wrinkle my nose in disgust. “Pass.”
He
shrugs, like it’s my loss, and snaps his fingers. “Squad one, line the walls. Two through four, the hallway.”
Six soldiers enter the room and stand at attention along the walls of the sparse medic ward, surrounding us. Their guns held tight to their chests, they stare blankly ahead, with all the personality of mannequins.
But I suspect Ian prefers it that way. He seems like the sort who enjoys personality and fire only long enough to snuff it out.
The remaining soldiers snap to attention in the corridor outside as the only other exit slides shut, sealing me and Jace in the room.
“And you, well,” Ian adjusts his suit coat as he looks at Jace with disappointment. “I did warn Rory that I would kill any of you that she brought with her, but I guess she called my bluff.” He smirks at me briefly, but quickly returns his attention to Jace. “You might be useful. I wonder what we can get out of Harper in exchange for you? And my, my, what will she think? I suspect she’ll be quite disappointed. The mighty Jace Goodwin, breaking laws? Costing the family millions, maybe billions?” Ian chuckles. “And so easily taken captive, no less.”
Jace tenses his jaw in anger, wrestling with the cuffs like he wants to snap them off and wring Ian’s skinny neck.
Subtly, I elbow him in the side, trying to get him to chill.
We can’t let pride screw everything up at the last moment.
Because everything we’ve done, everything we’ve pulled together, all comes down to this.
To Drew.
Once Drew’s in the security center, he can guide Tucker to our location. Once he’s in command of the facility’s inner workings, he can give us the distraction we need to break free.
But we’re here—in Irena’s room—and the tides have yet to turn in our favor.
Ian’s still in control. The guards still have access to the room—and we have no way out.
I tense, adjusting my weight as the strange metal cuffs continue to drain my energy. I try to flex my fingers, but I can barely move them.
Deep down, I hope these cuffs aren’t draining my power for good. Harper mentioned magic-draining technology exists—technology that can steal my gifts away forever—but all I can do is hope Ian isn’t currently using it on me.
I really don’t like relying on hope.
“You,” Ian says disdainfully with a nod toward Guy. “The adults are talking. Go wait in the hall.”
Guy grumbles under his breath, casting a brief glare toward Jace. I figure he wanted to be part of the ridiculing, wanted a part in causing Jace as much pain as possible.
Without a word, he obeys, shoving roughly past Jace on the way out. The two share a brief and intense glare, and it’s clear that one of them is going to die the next time they meet.
Looking for something to get Ian talking, I nod after Guy Durand as the door slides shut behind him. “If you hate him so much, why let him live?”
“He’s useful,” Ian says with a lazy shrug. “Ish.”
“And me?” I prod. “What’s useful about me? I’m just a girl who fell in a hole.”
“Oh, you.” Ian laughs, waggling a finger at me like I’ve been naughty. “Quite the understatement, don’t you think?”
“Not really.” I shrug, trying to goad him into saying something he shouldn’t.
Ian’s smart, sure, but he still has his weaknesses, and my guess is his biggest weakness is the desire to show off. To have a grand event.
And I very purposefully denied him one.
Our capture was easy. He barely had to lift a finger. He barely got to play. And now, he’s going to make up for all the fun he missed out on in capturing me.
I try not to grin as my plan comes together. I don’t want to get cocky, since so many pieces are still missing.
Absently, I scan the speakers embedded along the ceiling, wondering if Drew’s close to the security center yet.
Or if he got caught, too.
I tense, trying to rein in my concerns, trying to focus.
“Do you know what your limits are?” Ian asks me, tilting his head in curiosity as he begins to slowly pace the room. “By now, I assume you know you’re the dragon vessel. Power of the gods and all that.” He mockingly shakes his hands, like he’s feigning excitement. “To think, all that power in that little body of yours.”
His eyes once more rove over my curves, and his gaze lingers a little too long on the space between my thighs.
Jace angles himself possessively between us, momentarily blocking my view of the Vaer.
“Oh, Jace,” Ian says mockingly. “Enough of that.”
Something buzzes, and Jace groans in agony. He falls to the ground as Ian continues to pace around us. He holds his thumb to a small black remote, grinning calmly as he watches Jace writhe in agony.
Jace grits his teeth, his body arching in pain.
I kneel, wishing I could hold him, comfort him, do anything.
“What did you do?” I snap, glaring at Ian.
Ian releases his hold on the button, and instantly, Jace relaxes. The dojo master gasps for air, curled over himself, his muscles giving out on him as he tries to stand.
“These cuffs are special,” Ian says with a nod toward our bound hands. “Designed for thunderbirds like our friend Jace here. After all, we have to keep creatures of magic and lightning in line somehow, am I right?” He grins and waves the remote in the air. “Who would have thought some high voltage electricity is enough to take down a thunderbird?”
“Fuck you,” Jace says through gritted teeth, the veins in his neck bulging.
“Such language,” Ian says, clicking his tongue in disappointment.
Jace manages to sit upright, and I lean my shoulder against his to help him stay up this time. He nods weakly to me in gratitude, and I can’t help but wonder if the cuffs would have the same effect on me.
After all, I’m not a thunderbird.
I’m something more.
“Rory dear,” Ian says absently, tapping the remote against his chin as he looks off into space. “I’ve been debating what to do with you.”
“Oh?” I ask sarcastically.
“Quite. Kinsley wants to bleed you dry, of course,” he laughs lightheartedly, like it’s a joke they share.
“Of course,” I say dryly, as if that’s not horrifying.
“I rather enjoy your fire, though.” He begins to pace toward us, angling between me and Irena, making a point to step between me and the only reason I’m even here. “However, I think we can make you behave with the right—well, let’s call it leverage.”
His thumb hovers over the button on his remote, and he looks briefly toward Jace again.
“Don’t,” I say instinctively, trying to give Jace at least a little time to recover.
“I’m fine,” Jace says in a painfully terrible attempt to lie. He coughs and tries to stand, teetering as he finally gets on his feet.
“Ah, there we go.” Ian grins. “See? All we need is something to bargain with. Like Jace’s life, for instance.”
“Or Irena?” I ask, finishing his thought for him.
“Quite. Yes.” He lazily gestures toward her limp body. “That one worked brilliantly, don’t you think?”
“She’s barely alive,” I snap. “Give her the antidote.”
“I’ll consider it,” he says with a lazy shrug. “But given all the ways you’ve—”
The lights abruptly shut off, and I anxiously look at Irena’s vitals system. The monitors continue to beep and drone, likely running on a backup generator.
Thank goodness.
“What—” Ian hesitates, looking up at the ceiling as a few backup lights pop on.
His eyes flit briefly toward me, and I allow just one wry smirk through my stoic mask.
It would seem Drew has made it to the security console after all.
Thank freaking goodness.
“What are you up to, Rory dear?” Ian asks, tilting his head in mild curiosity.
“Just playing our game,” I say w
ith a shrug. “Don’t you like having fun?”
“Absolutely.” He snaps his fingers, and the six guards along the wall instantly point their guns at Irena. “But will your brand of fun get your sister killed?”
I square my shoulders, calling his bluff. “That would kind of defeat the point of this whole rescue, wouldn’t it?”
“It most certainly would.” Ian sets his thumb on the button, just waiting for any reason to press it.
It’s surprising to me for a shifter like Ian to focus so much on influence and control, rather than physical might. He hasn’t shifted, hasn’t thrown a single punch, nothing. He just introduces consequences and enjoys watching his prey dance for him.
But I won’t dance, and I’m done playing.
Even though my muscles ache from the draining effects of the iron cuffs, I shift my weight to my heels and silently reach for the magic in my chest. It burns and sputters, growing stronger as I reach for it.
My hands warm, the magic already itching to break free.
Ian shakes the remote. “Rory,” he says with a disappointed tone. “Are you truly going to make me do this?”
I don’t answer. Not now, not when I need to focus. I continue to keep my hold on my magic, waiting for it to build. Waiting for it to fill every vein.
With the heavy iron cuffs, the magic moves slowly. It drips and meanders, barely able to stir, but it’s there.
It’s growing.
I just need more time.
Ian sighs in disappointment. “Fine, have it your way.”
He presses his thumb against the button, and a searing blast of agony burns through me. It rips through my muscles, through my veins, through every inch of my body.
My hands reflexively tighten into fists, straining against the metal domes keeping me in line, holding me back, reining in the power that no one but me should ever control.
It’s agony.
My knees wobble, and my body desperately wants to give out. It wants to fall. It wants to writhe in pain and curl into a ball until this is all over.
But I don’t give up that easy.
I open my eyes, glaring at Ian through the pain. The electrical current is relentless, burning through me like lightning, but I fight it with everything I have. I channel all of my adrenaline, all of my anger, all of my pain into my hate-filled glare.
