Page 51 of Mysteries, Menace, and Mates

“And to second Signor Orsini’s prayer: May the gods watch over all of us.”

Amen to that.

If Horvan had his way, he’d have them on speed dial.

VIC WASusually a positive person, but after being kept in a cramped, windowless room, not another being in sight save for the guard who brought him his meager food ration, he was starting to panic.

I’m not getting out of here, am I?

He’d tried to connect with Saul and Crank, but so far his efforts had been fruitless. He’d become so disheartened, he hadn’t even tried during the last two days. Theron’s initial comment about using him as a pawn in whatever twisted game he was playing filled Vic with dread, but that paled into insignificance next to the inference that anyone coming to rescue him would find only a corpse.

Then he heard the click of a key in a lock, and he stilled. He’d already been fed—and that was far too generous a term to be applied to the hunk of bread and half a plastic cup of water they’d brought him that morning—so this was something new.

When the door opened and Theron loomed in the doorway, his heart sank.

I guess I’ve run out of time.

“Bad news, I’m afraid,” Theron said in a light, cheerful tone, confirming Vic’s fears. “They’re not going to find you.” He kept his hands behind his back, and that was enough to put Vic on alert.

“They’ll never stop searching for me,” Vic affirmed, his voice cracking.

Theron’s cool smile sent shivers through him.

“Of course. Believe that if it helps. But you should know… they won’t be looking here. Indeed, I have it on excellent authority that they’re searching for you in Alaska.”

“And how do you know that?”

That cool smile again. “I have my sources. In fact, I can have those sources feed false information to your Fridan friends. I could have them searching for you all over the globe.”

A fucking mole. A traitor.

And there was no way of warning Horvan or Aelryn.

“It’s very warm in here, wouldn’t you agree?” Theron brought his hands out from behind him, and Vic saw a bottle of water.

You fucking bastard.

Theron cracked the cap and took a few sips. He grimaced. “Damn, I hate it when the water isn’t chilled.” He stared at Vic as he upturned the bottle and poured its contents onto the stone floor. Theron gave him an apologetic glance. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did you want some?” He pocketed the empty bottle with a cold smile.

You fucking monster.

“What do you hope to gain from keeping me here?” Vic demanded.

Theron buffed his nails on the lapel of his jacket. “Absolutely nothing. So enjoy your last breaths, because your time is about to run out.” He pointed to the camera in the corner of the room, not that Vic hadn’t spotted it about two seconds after they’d thrown him in there. “Your demise will be recorded for my amusement—and to torture your mates, of course.” He let out a dramatic sigh. “To think they came so far and tried so hard, only to watch you die due to their failures.”

And with that, he closed the door and locked it.

Vic took a deep breath.

I have to hold tight. I have to believe they’ll find me.

He closed his eyes, fighting to calm his racing heartbeat, and opened himself up.

Saul? Crank? Can you hear me?

Then he choked back a sob when a familiar voice filled his head.

Baby?

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