Page 83 of Perilous Healing

“You have no say. Tell us where your detail is,” he growled. “Or you’re next. Woman or not, makes no difference to me.”

I step in front of her, my stomach still burning. “You won’t lay a finger on her. And as for your buddies? They’re likely rotting away in some enemy camp right now.”

“What do you mean, enemy camp?”

“Look at my face,” I say, pointing to the bruises courtesy of Michael.

“You’re welcome,” he says in my ear.

“We didn’t all make it back,” I repeat. “Now, I want to speak with River.”

The guard narrows his gaze on me but grabs me by the arm and yanks me forward. The second one grips Bianca’s arm and tugs her too. Her gaze briefly finds mine, but then we both focus straight ahead as we’re escorted back through the large metal gates.

The area’s empty, though that’s to be expected given the lateness of the hour. Curfew has likely been enacted already, and anyone out would be subject to River’s brand of questioning.

The guards lead us toward the house and up the porch steps. One raises his fist and knocks on the door. A few seconds pass in silence before it’s opened, and Yarrow is standing on the other side, a massive grin on his face. “Just in time!” he exclaims, then grabs Bianca and pulls her into the house.

I’m shoved in from behind, barely managing to catch my footing to keep from falling over.

Yarrow tugs Bianca through the house, his mood so vastly different than typical that it sets my nerves on edge. What changed? Is it that they met their quota? I think back to the empty streets.

Is it possible we’re too late?

He pulls her into the dining room, and she gasps, then tries to step backward. He wraps an arm around her throat and keeps her exactly where she stands. I rush forward, only to have the cool barrel of a pistol pressed to the back of my neck.

“I’d slow down if I were you,” a voice I don’t recognize says. “Wouldn’t want to spoil the fun just yet, would we? Move.”

I do as he says and continue forward, stopping right beside Bianca.

River’s tied to a chair directly across from us, his chest covered in blood, while a man to his right eats dinner. River is clearly dead, but hasn’t been for long as the blood is still wet on his chest.

The man wipes his mouth with a fabric napkin, then turns to face us—and smiles.

The recognition is instant because he’s the older version of Yarrow. A man with the same features, the same darkness in his gaze. Only less wild. The father is calculated while the son is rash.

“Well, well, well, what have we here?” he asks, fully facing us.

“This is my fiancée, father,” Yarrow says. “Selena Culvers.”

“Selena Culvers. She’s a bit dirty, but a looker.”

I start to step forward, but the man behind me tugs me back. Herman shifts his gaze to me. “And who are you?”

“The SEAL,” Yarrow replies, clearly disgusted.

“A big boy, aren’t you? Tall. Filled out. Want a job? I could use a new head of the Culvers organization. More of a management position, really. You can even keep her.” He gestures to Bianca. “My gift to you since, from what I hear, you’re fond of her.”

“I’ll pass,” I snap. “Why did you kill him?”

“His usefulness ran out,” Herman replies. “The question is, where were you two?”

“Bianca had a fever, I took her to a spring to cool her down.”

“And who is Bianca?”

“Me,” she replies.

“I thought your name was Selena.” He looks from her to his son.

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