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But how to get them?

* * *

Ipassedanother two sleepless nights before my luck changed and Zed called me with news.

“I was just in town to ask around and someone said they’d seen Ryan last night.”

I’d been lying in bed when Zed called, but I was up in an instant once I’d heard that. Zed had to be sure his information was good, or he wouldn’t have told me. I knew he was almost as worried as I was. He'd been the first to search the clinics, but Ryan hadn't been there. “Where did they see him?” I asked.

“Walking across town, apparently.”

“I'm gonna check his place,” I said, already jumping out of bed and getting dressed. Pulling my pants on with one hand, I ended the conversation with Zed and tried calling Ryan again. By the time I'd managed to button up, it became apparent that he still wasn't answering, but I didn't let that deter me.

I grabbed my shoes and left the house as quickly as I could. If Ryan had returned last night...

Why wasn't he answering his phone?

Why hadn't he told anyone that he was leaving in the first place? Didn't he know that we worried? Hehadto know that by now. He was always telling me not to. Like that was even possible.

I shifted, took to the air and reached the outskirts of the town where the embassy was located in record time. Ryan had a small apartment in a house just next to the embassy building and I knocked on his door as soon as I'd shifted back. Part of me wanted to just kick his door in. The only reason I didn't do it was that he could be standing right behind it and I'd never forgive myself for hurting him.

“Ryan!” I shouted. “Are you in there? Please open the door!”

And then, as if through a miracle, he did. Ryan opened the door. I stared at him. And then I pulled him into a hug. He made a surprised noise, as if my actions were in any way surprising. I was so relieved I could have cried.

“What were you thinking?” I demanded. “Wherewereyou? I was worried sick about you!” I realized that maybe I had to let him get some air if I wanted him to speak, so I loosened my hold on him a little. It was only then that I saw the bruising on his face. He'd been standing in a dark hallway before, but I'd pulled him out into the light. “What happened?” I whispered, suddenly feeling cold.

He opened his mouth, then closed it again, as if he wasn't sure what to say. “Come in,” he said eventually. “I'll... explain.”

I followed him into the apartment, my chest feeling painfully tight. What kind of explanation could there be for his disappearance and the state he was in? Where had he been? Who had done that to him?

Whoeverit had been, if I ever met the bastard…