Page 174 of Elven Crown

She thought she saw his arms trembling as they held him off the ground, but then he let out a furious snarl and pushed himself to his feet.

“What kinda sick fucks would evenmakesomething like that?” Whit asked as he clenched his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“The sick fucks we’re gonna put down before this is over,” Maxwell snarled.

“Diego?” Rebecca asked through the pounding aftermath squeezing her head. “Diego! Hey!”

“Oh man…” Shell took two hesitant steps toward the front of the stage. “He’s okay, right? He’s not—”

“Stand back!” Maxwell barked, reaching toward her with a hand. He didn’t seem physically capable of much else.

The troll woman stumbled to a halt, looked back and forth between the shifter and their operatives on the stage, then stepped back again and wiped the quickly building sheen of sweat from her forehead. “But he’s okay, though, right?”

“He’s breathing,” Rebecca replied. “So are Titus and Burke, from what I can tell.”

“Yeah, but for how much longer?” Rowan asked. “After that, I’m surprised he was even still conscious when we got here.”

He nodded toward the stage, frowning against the residual effects of the last power surge. “I would’ve put my money on the big guy, personally.”

The searing gasp from the stage made everyone freeze before they realized it was Diego coming back to himself.

He lifted his head, though not all the way. A string of drool slid from his open mouth before he spit as far to the side as possible for how tightly he’d been bound.

“Yeah, and you would’ve lost,” he croaked. “But hey, I’ll take that bet for next time if you’re still down.”

A surprised laugh escaped Rowan before he ran a hand over the top of his head, swiping back the strands of russet-colored hair that had broken free from the loose ponytail falling down the center of his back.

“Holy shit,” Whit said, gaping at the Cruorcian. “You okay, man?”

“Sure.” Diego sniffed, then spat again. “Fucking peachy. Sign me up for the day spa once a month from now on, why don’tcha?”

The other operatives let out strained chuckles, but even Diego’s wry humor wasn’t enough to cut through the tension swirling around the room. Nor did it lessen the severity of their current situation, or the consequences of what would happen if they couldn’t get out of here soon.

Consequences Rebecca didn’t have the energy or presence of mind to consider at the moment.

She didn’t have to consider them to know this would only get worse for them the longer it took to diffuse the explosive wards around the stage and get the hell out of here.

With the acrid sting of burning metal and the crackling weight of magic in the air like heady ozone, Rebecca studied the emptytheater hall, wracking her mind for any viable plan that might work.

If they’d been attacked by their unidentified enemy right now, they couldn’t have been less prepared to put up a good fight, no matter what form of combat.

Then it hit her.

Maxwell had already called it when he’d said their team was almost certainly walking into a trap tonight.

Whoever had built this torture chamber of a kidnapping and magical-hostage situation had very specific targets in mind, and they’d put this whole thing together.

Not every rescue team would have traveled on foot across an abandoned amusement park, site unseen, to recover their abducted comrades. Not to mention walking right into the center of the action with no enemy in sight the way Rebecca’s team had walked right into this theater hall, with so much confidence in their ability to handle whatever the enemy might throw at them.

This had all been set up specifically for magicals like those belonging to Shade, who’d built not only a privatized task force but a community. A family, even. A home of so many misplaced individuals ready and willing to walk into the fire if it meant saving one—or three—of their own.

Individuals who would have responded to the growing urgency and necessity of such a rescue mission with not only their heads but their hearts as well. Who would have pushed themselves onward through anything at the sound of their imprisoned friends screaming beneath intermittent torture.

The psychotic mastermind behind this whole thing had known that added detail would only make the team move that much faster. That it would make them that much more determined to reach the finish line and get this done, maybe even tolet desperation take over until they did something brazen and stupid in their rescue attempt.

That was the kind of twisted asshole who'd known the kind of loyalty and perseverance with which Shade’s entire task force operated.

As if the enemy had been able to read their minds far before Rebecca and her team even made it to the park.

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