Page 160 of The World Undone

My chest hollowed at that possibility. If it had been—if I’d been this affected from one brief encounter with one of those creatures, how had Atlas survived months locked with one? How had Sarah?

The bond still hummed inside of me, its normal glow and strength dampened, but it was still there. That meant Max was okay. Or at least alive. Maybe that was the best I could hope for right now. I wasn’t sure any of us would ever be okay again.

If I could get some of my strength back, I could reach her, warn her—keep her from coming here.

“On the chance that I’m wrong,” Jarrod continued, oblivious to my attempts, “I wanted to have options, collateral here that might influence Ms. Bentley to see things my way. She’s young, troubled. But I’m sure that with the right amount of…suggestion, even she can be convinced to see reason.” Jarrod’s gaze drifted over to where I assumed Rowan was glaring daggers at him, his expression bored and a little annoyed. “But if you continue that racket, I might be convinced I only need one of your lives to trade in exchange for her cooperation. Tell me,” his expression curled into a dark smile, “who do you think she cares more for? A brother who doesn’t even share her blood? Or a mate?” His eyes glistened, bloated with cruelty. “Of course she has four others, so perhaps it’s the illusion of family she’d prefer to save—the only remnant of childhood she has left. She does strike me as the sentimental type.”

“Where are we?” I barked out, sitting up, despite the wave of nausea and pain the miniscule movement sent through me. I needed to keep his focus off of Rowan. There was no way in hell I was letting his bloodthirsty thoughts anywhere near reality.

Max had lost too much.

I refused, after everything, to deliver her a dead brother.

He studied me, surprise raising his brows. “You don’t feel it, then? I was told you might.”

I swallowed, my mouth drier than sandpaper. “Feel what?”

His eyes narrowed, confusion and anger battling out across his features. “The stone.”

The stone.

It was here?

I glanced around the room again, or whatever small slice of it I could see from my cage, but nothing about this dungeon stood out. It looked like a miniature version of Headquarters’ lab, though unfamiliar enough that I knew I’d never been here.

“Perhaps that creature took too much from you.” Jarrod shrugged, then walked out of my sight line. “Oh well, not necessary that you sense it, but I must say I’m disappointed all the same. The scientist in me is truly so curious to test the limitations of this bond of yours. Perhaps we should have started there. If things were less,” his eyes narrowed in thought, “urgent, we would have.”

Metal clanked against metal, the sound echoing harsh and abrasive in the sterile room.

I shivered at the possibility of which tools he was gathering. Somehow not seeing them made it all the worse.

We’re almost there. Hang on.

The words were a whisper at first—a gentle breeze given form. And then, I’d half-convinced myself they’d been nothing more than my imagination, my subconscious desperately clinging to some possibility of survival, creating hope where there was none.

But then I heard them again, louder this time.

“Don’t worry though, I’ll put you under again. I’m not a monster.” A soft chuckle, like he’d made a joke. “I don’t believe in pain for pain’s sake, despite what you might think of me.”

“Tell that to the town you cremated,” I spat out, bile coating my tongue. How many people had died at this man’s hands? Or, if not his hands, at his orders?

“A tragedy, to be sure. But one that was meant to prevent a much larger one, in the end,” he mused, still fussing with tools I couldn’t see.

“Your job is to protect people,” Rowan said, his voice dark and on the edge of breaking. “To save them.”

“I’m trying,” Jarrod barked. He dropped whatever he was doing and walked back over to us, his posture rigid, expression unhinged. “To save us all. Don’t you get that? These deaths, however tragic, are nothing compared to what will come, if we don’t destroy hell.” His eyes locked on mine. “You used to believe in our work, Ms. Connolly, our mission. I’ve read your files. You were a fierce hunter, rising through the ranks. Who knows?” he shook his head, eyes wide, incredulous, “another decade or two and you could have been appointed a seat on the council. Instead,” disgust ate away at his expression, “you’ve thrown it all away. And for what? A girl? A vampire who’s convinced you he’s not evil? Teammates come back from the dead as a werewolf and whatever the hell the younger Andrews boy is now. Tell me, Ms. Connolly—how many lives have they taken since you’ve turned your back on us?” His lip curled as his gaze cut to Rowan, then back to me. “You’re no different than me. You act all holier than thou, but look at the trail of violence you’ve left in your wake since abandoning your post. Since abandoning the mission passed down to you from your ancestors. You had potential, but you were too weak to see it through.”

“I believed in The Guild, yes,” I fought to keep my words even, to distill the rage boiling in my blood down to something more usable. “I thought I was part of something important, that we were working towards the greater good. Then,” I sat up straighter, ignoring the sharp bolts of pain shooting through my spine, “I got more information. And I changed my opinions and actions accordingly. That’s not weakness, that’s critical thinking.”

A shadow fell across his features, but before he could respond, a crash echoed through the room, explosive and thundering.

Jarrod flinched, the little color he had in his face dissipating quickly.

I couldn’t see beyond the boundaries of my cell window, but I could feel them all.

They were here.

Jarrod dropped the small blade he’d been gripping, the sharp, tinny clank as it hit the floor almost comedically soft compared to the sound of my team’s entrance.

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