Page 83 of Almost Midnight

Well, to most people, at least.

To Nick’s eyes, it was unmistakeable.

The vampires sitting around Brick all wore identical uniforms.

They were all outfitted for battle.

Then Nick glanced back at the single non-vampire sitting among all of those chalk-white faces and knives and swords… and did an abrupt double-take when he looked at his face. It didn’t occur to him until that exact instant that he hadn’t until then.

The identity of that person trulydidsurprise him.

Forrest Keanu Walker was the lone mortal sitting there, surrounded by vampires who seemed to hover over him protectively.

Well, that explained the cryptic comments about an H.R.A. facility.

If Walker was here, then he clearly hadn’t gotten here because the H.R.A. decided to let him go. They would have deported his ass to one of the former-U.K. protected areas if they had, and told him never to return to North America again.

Fuck, though, it was hard to be angry once Nick focused on Walker’s face.

The male hybrid looked thinner, nearly gaunt.

He definitely looked worse for wear since Nick had last seen him.

While Nick didn’t know precisely how long ago that had been, he knew conditions in the H.R.A. facility where they’d housed him must have been pretty damned horrific for Walker to lookthisfucking bad in such a short period of time.

It looked like they hadn’t fed him at all.

He also showed obvious signs of torture and abuse.

A days-old bruise covered most of one side of his face, and Nick could tell he’d been mistreated in other ways, just by the way he sat in his chair. His open collar showed a dark red ring around his neck that only had one meaning for a seer that Nick knew of.

Those H.R.A. fucks had collared him.

Nick couldn’t help looking the rest of the hybrid over, feeling sick and angry as he did.

Unlike the vampires he sat with, Walker didn’t wear armor, but a white, tunic-like shirt and black pants. His hands had cuts and more bruises, as did his lower arms. His bare feet poked out the bottom of his pant legs under the table, looking swollen, dark red, and possibly broken in a few places. Another shocking purple and black bruise was visible on the top part of his chest, and probably on his abdomen, given the hyper-straight way he sat.

They’d beaten the shit out of him, probably for days.

They’d broken his feet, likely with organic cables or chains.

Nick finished looking at Walker, who seemed almost touched by the appraisal.

When Nick met the man’s gaze, he got a reassuring smile in return.

Nick’s eyes didn’t linger on Forrest Walker’s reaction to his concern; instead, they swiveled towards Wynter, who was watching the interaction closely.

Nick raised an eyebrow at her, tilting his head in Walker’s direction.

“You’ve been busy,” he commented.

Wynter opened her mouth, her eyes a touch harder, but Brick spoke before she could.

“Not her,” Nick’s sire said, that typical self-importance in his voice. “Me.”

Nick’s gaze turned back to the auburn-haired vampire.

“You?” he said flatly. “You broke into an H.R.A. high-security prison?”

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