Page 84 of Fallen Stars

It pisses me off.

“I need to get out of here,” I say. “I need to find him. Now.”

“We’ll find him,” Tymber states with more confidence than any of us feels.

“How?” I bark out. “You’ve been working on this for a while. Obviously, he got too close and they took him.”

The heart monitor beeps faster once more.

“So tell me, how willyoufind him?”

“Dušo,” Mama chastises.

“It’s okay, ma’am.” Tymber runs his fingers through his hair. “Oliver, I promise I will do everything within my power to find him. He keeps extensive notes on his computer. I will go through all of them until we find him.”

“And now that I’ve been apprised of the situation, Stone Bay police will work alongside Mr. Woulf, missing persons, and additional law enforcement.” Travis rests his hand on the footrail of the bed. “We will not rest until we find him, Ollie.” His eyes hold mine, unwavering. “I swear to you.”

His word means more than Tymber’s right now.

“I’ll hold you to it, Travis,” I say on a shaky exhale. “Now, please leave. Go find my boyfriend.”

TWENTY-THREE

LEVI

A tremor ripplesthrough my body as I hug my legs closer to my chest. Resting my head on my knees, I inhale slow, methodical breaths and close my eyes. It doesn’t matter whether my eyes are open or closed; there is no light in the room. But something about closing my eyes gives me comfort.

A loud gurgle sounds from my stomach seconds before it twists into a vicious cramp. The last thing I ate was a measly fistful of stale crackers thrown at my face. The last thing I drank was a small bottle of water, also tossed at my head.

Both were… days ago. At least, I think it was days ago. I have no fucking clue.

Time doesn’t exist in this hellhole.

My mind drifts to Oliver. The absolute terror on his face seconds before a hood was dropped over my head. His thrashing and screaming as he fought one of our assailants repeats like an endless nightmare.

Is he here?

Is he locked in a cell like this one?

Is he alone and scared and as worried about me as I am for him?

Please, don’t let him be here.

I did this. I opened the lid to Pandora’s box, let the monsters out, led them straight to us, and all but identified myself when I put on that fucking hat at the festival.

Stupid. Fucking. Idiot.

Music comes on outside of the room and is cranked to a deafening volume. Since I woke up in this place, I have learned music means one thing. Torture. They use fast-paced, squealy rock music to mask the screams as people are beaten.

I know this because it has happened to me.

The shiver-inducing screech of the metal hinges mingles with the violent music as the door to my cell is opened. Bright light infiltrates the room and I wince.

A large man stands in the doorway, his biceps thicker than my thighs. I’ve seen him twice before now—when he threw crackers at my face and sometime later when he came in to punch and kick me for several minutes.

“There you are,” he says in a robotic voice. “Our new pretty toy.”

My fingers curl into fists as I press my back to the wall. “I’m notyours,” I bite out, though the words don’t sound as harsh in my dehydrated state.

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