Page 145 of Wilde and Deadly

The tunnel was a war zone.

Davey didn’t care about the black-clad bodies on the ground. He didn’t care about the blood smeared across the concrete. His gaze locked on Weston, who was on his knees, barely staying upright, and Sabin, sprawled on the ground beside him.

Sabin’s face was a mess of bruises and blood, one eye swollen shut, his usually easy-going smirk nowhere to be found. Weston was in only slightly better shape, swaying on his feet, blood pouring from a deep gash on his forehead. He was trying—and failing—to keep Sabin from slipping into unconsciousness.

But Rowan?—

Rowan wasn’t here.

His brain refused to process it. She had to be here. She had to be close. Maybe—maybe she was just out of sight. Maybe?—

His stomach bottomed out, the walls pressing in, the air thinning. He turned in a slow circle, looking, searching—like if he just looked hard enough, she’d be there.

“Where is she?”

Weston’s eyes struggled to focus. “The... the shadows,” he mumbled. “They came out of nowhere.” He swayed, and Cade’s hand shot out to keep him upright.

Davey’s breath was sharp and uneven, his heart hammering against his ribs. He yanked his radio off his vest. “Daphne, where’s Rowan?”

A crackle, then her voice, sharp and focused. “Still tracking. No signal yet. Backup en route. Elliot and Tessa left Liam and Bridger at the hospital— ETA eight minutes. Rest of the team, thirteen to fifteen.”

Davey swallowed down the panic and turned back to Weston. “What the hell happened?”

“He doesn’t need an interrogation right now.” Cade’s jaw ticked as he took in the full extent of his little brother’s injuries. Blood matted Weston’s dark hair, trickling down his temple and staining the collar of his tactical gear. His skin was ashen, eyes glassy.

“West,” Cade said, his voice low and urgent. “Sit down.”

That unfocused gaze went to the ground. “But Sabin…”

“We’ll help him now.”

“I got him,” Dom said, shouldering his rifle and kneeling beside Sabin. He pulled the compact First Aid kit off his vest. His hands moved quickly, efficiently, as he assessed Sabin’s injuries and tried to staunch the bleeding from the worst of his head wounds. “He’s okay, West. It looks bad, but his pulse is steady, and he’s a stubborn bastard. He’ll live.”

Apparently satisfied, Weston collapsed back on his butt and exhaled a ragged breath. Tears streaked from his eyes, leaving rivulets through the blood on his face. He probably didn’t even realize he was crying. The guy was deep in shock.

Davey crouched in front of him and made his voice as gentle as possible despite the fear and rage crashing through his system with the adrenaline. “Hey, West. What happened?”

Weston blinked slowly like he didn’t understand the question. “They… they weren’t there. And then they were. Like ghosts. Like— No, not ghosts. He was… is… was… a—” He cut off, squeezing his temple like he could press the memory into place. “Fuck. My head.”

Davey clenched his jaw. “West. Focus. Who took Rowan?”

“A shadow. But not… He was real. Solid. Like he stepped out of thin air. Moved like... like nothing I’ve ever seen. But I felt like I had seen him somewhere before. Like I knew—” He winced and touched the gash at his temple, hissing in pain. But his eyes cleared. “We didn’t stand a chance. They had some kind of cloaking tech. We didn’t see them coming.”

“Waiting for us,” Sabin muttered, voice hoarse. They all whipped toward him as he tried to push to his hands and feet. “Knew we were coming back. Had to be watching.”

Dom put a hand on his back, keeping him still. “Stay down, buddy. You took a hell of a beating.”

“Oui, okay, if you insist.” He sank back to the ground with a groan. “I’ll just lay here and get some beauty sleep, yeah?”

Dom huffed out a laugh. “You need it. That pretty face isn’t so pretty right now, but you need to stay awake until we can get you professional help.”

“My ma always says no help for me,” Sabin muttered, his eyes fluttering closed.

Cade scoffed. “Jesus. The man’s half-conscious and still cracking jokes.”

Davey ignored them, his focus still on Weston. His chest burned. He couldn’t seem to draw a full breath. “Who was it? West, you see where they took her? Any clue at all?”

Weston wiped blood from his mouth. “I don’t know. I thought—” He stopped and a flicker of confusion crossed his face. Then, he winced hard, squeezing his eyes shut. “Ah, fuck. My head’s splitting.”

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