Page 20 of Kidnapping of a Myth

“Lord have mercy on my soul for you don’t,” Eamon groaned. “Just promise you’ll tell me when it gets too much. I lost you once. I won’t do it again.”

Before Bel could respond, his phone rang, shattering the quiet, and he answered it with unnervingly fast reflexes.

“Hello… hold on.” He raced for Wendy’s laptop and opened the most recent email. “I’m looking at it now.”

Bel peered over his shoulder, concentrating on the numbers typed in the message and not the water cresting Michael’s knees.

“Thanks. I owe you.” Eamon hung up and lifted his gaze to Wendy’s hopeful stare, and Bel felt his triumph before the words fell from his lips. “He found Michael.”

“Where is that?”Eamon pointed to the location on the map. “It looks like it’s still on the estate.” The numbers his contact had emailed were coordinates, but according to the maps, the area was a stretch of nothing. No roads, no buildings, and definitely no sign of a bunker.

“It is,” Wendy confirmed. “But it’s on the opposite side of the property. Nothing’s out there.”

“The perfect place to hide.” Eamon pulled his keys from his pocket. “We need to move if we’re going to reach it in time.” He captured Bel’s hand and dragged her toward the front door so fast that she had to jog to keep up.

“Wait!” Wendy chased after them. “I’m coming with you.”

“No, you’re not,” Eamon and Bel said in unison.

“But—”

“The Tinker wants you dead.” Bel slipped her hand free from Eamon’s grip and whirled around to catch the younger woman by the shoulders. “He’s hoping you venture out there to look for your brothers. So stay here, watch the footage, and keep us updated. We have no idea if following this lead will trigger the water to flood faster. I need you to be my eyes.”

“I want to be there when you find him.” Wendy’s gaze darted around the foyer, reminding Bel of trapped prey. “Michael needs me.”

“You’ll be waiting right here for him when we get back,” Bel said. “It’s too dangerous for you to leave the house.”

“But you’re going,” she argued

“Yes, but you’re not a—” Bel caught herself before she confessed too much. Wendy wasn’t what? A cop? An immortal who could withstand fatal explosions? “You’re safer here, and if something happens to us, call Sheriff Griffin from the Bajka Police Department. Tell him I sent you. He’ll help.” Bel tried to leave, but Wendy captured her in a hug, desperation and fear bleeding from her limbs to poison Bel’s muscles.

“You are police, aren’t you? That’s why Eamon brought you,” she whispered, and Bel stiffened. “I don’t care. I’m glad you’re here, but please, I’m begging you. Bring my brother home.”

“I’ll do everything I can.” Bel returned the embrace, the younger woman feeling suddenly so small in her arms, and then she slipped into the passenger seat and slammed the door as the vehicle accelerated.

“We’ll find him,” Eamon said as he pushed the car to her limits, and Bel tensed despite knowing his inhuman reflexes controlled their speed. She’d never driven with a race car driver, yet instinct told her not even a professional could handle momentum this intense. She’d learned more about the terror that was Eamon Stone in the last few hours than she’d learned over the past weeks of their evolving relationship, and hisreality scared her. Not only because such invincibility ruined her understanding of the world, but because he’d deemed it safe to reveal his true self to her. The beast no longer hid behind the man because Eamon trusted her with his truth; loved her enough to expose the darkest and most terrifying parts of his person.

“I hope so.” She focused on his face and not the greenery flying past her window in a nauseatingly blurry display. “But what about John? Where’s the older brother?”

“I know you’re worried about him.” Eamon guided the careening car off the main lane and onto a service road, and Bel flinched, fully expecting the speed to launch them into the trees, but he handled their trajectory with perfect precision. “But don’t think about him right now. We can’t help him yet, so concentrate on the boy we can save.” He reached out and captured her hand, and she tried to ignore the fear his driving one-handed inspired. “I need you to understand that I’ll stop at nothing to get Michael out of that bunker.”

“I know.” She glanced at him with a creased brow, unsure why he was reminding her of something she already knew, but the moment their eyes met, she understood his meaning. Dread pooled in her stomach. He wasn’t reassuring her of his help. He was preparing her to witness his downfall.

“No matter what happens to me. Get the kid out.” He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles.

“Eamon…”

“Just worry about the child.”

They fell silent, clinging to each other as uneasiness filled the car. It grew so thick that she feared it would suffocate her because, if disaster struck, Eamon would force her to choose between him and the boy. He wouldn’t allow her or Michael to come to harm, and as a police officer, she was sworn to serve and protect. Bel knew she would save the child, and she almosthated Eamon for reminding her of her humanity. For reminding her she couldn’t save the one person whose soul had braided so intricately with hers that she would forever belong to him. She didn’t know when it happened. She didn’t know when her nightmare had become her salvation, and at that moment, she hated him for loving her. For making her confront the dangerous feelings threatening to drown her, only to face a reality where she might lose him.

Eamon slammed on the brakes, jerking her from her misery, and the car skidded to a stop before a sudden clearing. He moved to open the door, but before he could escape the vehicle, Bel reached across the divide and caught his hand.

“Don’t you dare die on me,” she ordered, and Eamon’s features softened as he nodded. It was one movement. One simple, almost undetectable motion, but it was all she needed, and she leaped from the car.

“Are we in the right place?” she asked as she scanned their surroundings. It was an expanse of nothing, a seemingly endless span of jagged rocks that vaguely reminded her of a quarry. The tan stones stretched into the distance, ending against the small cliffs that bordered the property. It was a harsh and barren stretch of earth, one that didn’t match the rest of the estate, and she sensed it the instant she saw it. The terrain was all wrong. There was no bunker here.

“These are the coordinates he emailed me,” Eamon answered, double-checking his phone. “He said that the signal was difficult to trace. Not impossible, but whoever this Peter Pann is, he knows his stuff. He bounced the signal through multiple IP addresses, but my contact finally narrowed it down to this location.”

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