Page 146 of Wilde and Deadly

“I’m sure it is. It looks like someone tried to cleave it open,” Cade said, his usually gruff voice gentle like he was soothing his daughter rather than his badass younger brother. “Lucky for you, you have a notoriously hard head.”

“Yeah, lucky. The bastard was big. And fucking strong. He could’ve killed me easily.”Weston’s breath hitched. His fingers clenched the fabric of his bloodstained pants. For half a second, it looked like he might break completely.

Then Cade’s grip tightened reassuringly on his shoulder and he exhaled. Blinked hard and looked at Davey. When he spoke, his voice was whisper. “I’m so sorry we couldn’t stop them from taking her.”

Davey’s world tilted on its axis.

Jesus. Rowan was gone.

Someone had taken her.

The walls felt like they were closing in, his pulse a hammer, his breath coming sharp and uneven. He had to move. Had to do something. But there was no one left to hit. No one to shoot. No one to punish.

“Fuck!” He spun away, his body coiled so tight he could snap. His fists ached to smash something—anything—but he restrained himself. The only thing that mattered was getting her back in one piece and that would be much harder to do with a broken hand.

“It’s Praetorian,” Sullivan said, breaking his icy silence, and nudged one of the dead men with the toe of his boot. “Brody—” His voice cracked. He cleared his throat and continued, “Liam said he was in contact with someone. It had to be a Praetorian team.”

Davey’s stomach turned to stone. His hands curled into fists. The thought tried to unmoor him—but he couldn’t afford that. Not now. He locked it down, forced the rage into something cold. Something sharp. Something lethal.

She was gone. Someone had taken her.

And whoever it was, they were about to learn exactly what it meant to steal from a Wilde.

“We’re going after them.” His voice was steel, cold and sharp and absolute. “We’re bringing her back, and we’re burning them to the ground.”

“No.” Cade’s voice cut through the tunnel, firm and controlled. “Think, Davey. You can’t go after Praetorian without proof.”

Davey turned on him, rage thrumming under his skin. “Rowan is gone. She could be?—”

He couldn’t say it. Couldn’t even think it.

Silence stretched between them, thick with tension. His breath came hard and fast, his body vibrating with the need to act, to do something. But Cade wasn’t wrong.

That didn’t make it any easier to accept.

Daphne’s voice suddenly came back, sharp and urgent. “Davey.”

He pressed his earpiece. “Go. Did you find her?”

“No, but Sully’s right. It’s Praetorian, and they just sent a message.”

Ice slid down his spine. “What do they want?”

Daphne hesitated. Then, carefully, “You.”

His pulse didn’t spike. It did the opposite—it slowed. His breathing evened out, his muscles coiled tight. A predator locking onto its prey.

“They want you to meet them at The Echelon.”

Cade grabbed his arm, his fingers digging in. “If you charge into The Eschelon and start a war, we’ll have every major power player in the world hunting us down. You want to get her back?” His voice dropped low. “You need to do this their way.”

Davey’s teeth ground together. “And what’s that?”

Cade’s jaw tightened. “Negotiate.”

Negotiate.

The word slammed against the walls of his skull, jagged and impossible. He flinched like Cade had just put a knife in his gut.

---