Page 47 of Claimed By Blood

Ah, that explains why Finn felt like he was having the sex of his life earlier, but not the sadness that came afterwards. “What about Draven?”

“He was with me, but he disappeared…” Silas shrugs. “He’s not answering my messages, but he does that sometimes. Nothing to worry about.”

I grimace, because this just confirms what I already know. Draven is so used to being on the outside of the pack that getting him to communicate and work as part of a team isn’t going to come naturally. He’s not in trouble—at least, our bond doesn’t give me the impression that he is—so Silas is right. Now’s not the time to worry about him. Nodding, I step forward and, holding my breath, allow my body to drop into the stinking drain.

I splash down into the tunnel with a hiss of disgust. There’s nowhere to walk except directly in the dirty, stinking water. Morwen’s landing makes more of it slosh over the edge of my boots, and it takes everything I have not to snarl at her as cold, wet sludge meets my toes.

And the area is tight. Enclosed.

Wide enough that I can reach out and touch the ceiling and the walls on either side of me with my hands. That, combined with the darkness, makes it hard to breathe. My chest starts to feel too tight, and I try to drag in a deep breath to counter the feeling.

I can move my arms. I’m not in the coffin. I can move my arms. I’m free.

“Well, this is homey,” Silas mutters, interrupting my silent, internal mantra.

I was so entangled in my own thoughts that I didn’t even notice him drop down beside me. With a start, I move farther down the tunnel, making space for the rest of our party.

Only Frost doesn’t drop down like the rest of us. He crawls in, using his fingers and toes to cling to the brick walls. I’ve seen ghouls do it before—scaling buildings like spiders—but I had no idea he had the same ability.

I shouldn’t be surprised given that he has all of the other ghoul strengths.

“Neat trick,” Morwen grouses.

“It’s not like the walls are much better than the water,” I mutter.

But I’m just as envious as she is. Even the weeping slime-covered brickwork seems like a better option than the grey, stinking water we’re wading through.

“Can you scent which way he went?” Silas asks, craning his head to speak to Frost.

“No need,” I say, pointing to the crude arrow scraped into the dripping wall “Apparently he wants us to follow him.”

“Could be a trap.” Morwen draws a long, wicked-looking knife with an eager grin.

“Probably,” Silas agrees.

Another splash from behind us makes us all jump, but it’s only Vane. “You forgot your comms,” he scolds, holding a box out to all of us. “Gid, Finn, and Mia are all on the other end.”

I didn’t forget. I just left mine behind because, despite my plan, I never expected to actually find Samuel so quickly, but I flash him a sheepish smile just the same.

“And Immy?” I check.

He freezes as the others start plucking earpieces from the box and hooking them over their ears. “She was in her room.”

I take my own earpiece from the box and link it to my ear just as Gideon’s voice echoes from it.“Mia’s gone to stand in the hallway. She confirmed your sister hasn’t left.”

“She also hasn’t triggered any of my virtual alarms or attempted to bypass our firewalls,”Finn adds, and I’m glad to hear that—despite the lingering sadness and irritation down our bond—he sounds okay. “As far as I can tell, she hasn’t made a single attempt to contact anyone using her phone or tablet since we left New York.

“Good.” If Immy isn’t sneaking out, or obviously reporting to Cain, perhaps she meant what she said.

Sloshing down the tunnel, I do my best to restrain my own runaway hopefulness. Cain might be wrong about many things, but his absolute refusal to trust someone before they’ve proven their loyalty is the reason he’s probably survived this long.

In this case, I might benefit from exercising a similar level of paranoia.

Of course, my sire would never have brought her along with us in the first place.

Now isn’t the time to start doubting myself. Shutting down those thoughts, I tune my focus into following Samuel’s trail. We’re all staying quiet, but the sloshing of our footsteps echoes off the walls. Slowly but surely, the darkness and the sound of my own harsh breathing start to bring back memories of another damp, cold, underground tomb. No matter how many times I try to shrug the memories off, they just keep coming back. Eventually, I just can’t take the silence anymore.

“Are we heading away from the town?” I ask, after almost half an hour of walking.

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