Page 60 of King of the Cage

“Your little fiancée. I think she’s got herself into trouble again. She rushed out of the house and went somewhere in a taxi, an old hotel uptown. She looked — she looked scared.”

Giada Santori, scared? I couldn’t quite picture it. The very thought of it was wrong.

“What hotel?” I demanded. In questioning the guy from Hade Harbor, a member of The Enclave, he’d talked about a hotel in Manhattan where different kinds of ceremonies took place. I knew what Declan was going to say before he said it.

“The Tartarus.”

Fucking hell, selkie. Can’t you stay out of trouble for one second?

“I’m on my way,” I said, gunning the engine and putting my food down even harder.

It had takenme an hour to get to The Tartarus, when it should have taken three. Sneaking, stealing a costume, and tracking Giada down in the dark hotel had taken longer than it should have, as well. Everything would have been fine if she’d managed to get out of the window. Instead, we were being led down the darkly carpeted stairs to the lower level by cattle prod. I could fight our way out, assuming no one had a gun, which was a pretty big assumption to make. It was a risk I’d only take if I had no other choice.

“The Offering stays here,” one of the guys said and jerked his head toward an empty room. He waited, staring at Giada.

“That’s me, is it?” she snapped at him. My girl had fire for days.

The guy withdrew a long, wicked knife from a pocket in his pants. “Yes. You.”

I shouldered in front of him. “Hey, point that at someone your own size,” I growled.

Giada’s hand came to rest on my arm. “It’s fine. Go and see what this fiasco is all about. I’ll be right here. Waiting,” she murmured.

Before I could agree, she was bundled into the room and locked in alone. I could handle that. I’d prefer she was alone than with any of these guys.

“You heard the lady. Lead the way, gentlemen,” I quipped, using humor as a way to leash my urge to crack their heads together.

I was led to a room off the main hallway. I stepped inside, just as a hard thwack hit me in the stomach. I doubled over. Man, that was a heavy hit. From experience, I could tell it was a baseball bat. I landed on my knees, and my mask was ripped off.

Someone sank a hand into my hair and gripped my bun, yanking my head so far back I was forced to blink into the bright overhead lights.

“Buy me a drink before you pull my hair like that,” I wheezed, then fought to get my breath back. “I might get the wrong idea.”

“Who gave you the invitation?” a deep, modulated voice demanded.

I could hardly say Giada, since she wasn’t a member, either. The only name I had to drop was the guy I’d killed up in Maine, the one who’d written me a recommendation to bargain for his life.

I chuckled. “Duncan Fitzgerald, remember him?”

A pause ensued, and then that deep voice spoke again. “Fitzgerald gave you an invitation?”

“That’s not all he gave me. If you’d let me up, I’ll show you.” I coughed. That blow to the diaphragm smarted.

“Get him up.”

Strong arms lifted me, ramming under my armpits. They deposited me in a hard leather wingback chair, and my eyes appreciated the respite from the blinding lights.

The person sitting opposite me across the dark wood table was wearing a black bulky cloak and white plague doctor mask. He was flanked by men, all masked and anonymous. Those eerie, dark eyeholes stared down at me expressionlessly.

I fished the letter I still had in my pocket from Maine and my last encounter with Duncan Fitzgerald and placed it on the table. It appeared pretty official, if I did say so myself, with a red wax seal and even a thumbprint.

The person behind the table stared at it and then handed it to one of their lackeys. “Verify it.”

They turned their creepy beaked mask toward me.

“Tell me, Brandon O’Connor, how you ended up with a recommendation to take the tests to become a brother of The Enclave.”

“What can I say? I guess I’m just a fan of adult dress up parties. Any excuse for a mask and a cloak, am I right?” I grinned broadly at the man behind the desk.

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