Page 63 of Prisoner of the Lycan Prince

Hands seized me. Fear exploded in my chest as I was shoved face down on the concrete.

“No!” Arlo shouted. “Don’t!—” His voice ended in a grunt as the sound of flesh striking flesh echoed through the warehouse.

The men held me down. My breath came in gasps as I turned my head, my cheek pressed to the concrete. “What are you doing?” I asked, my voice high-pitched and foreign in my ears.

“Hold her arm out to the side,” Armand ordered.

I fought but it was useless. Hector gripped my elbow and straightened my arm. Another man stepped on my forearm, his boot digging into Einar’s claw marks hidden under my sweater. Pain lashed me, and I couldn’t hold back my scream.

“Now, now,” Armand said, crouching next to my head. A knife glinted in his hand. “You’re getting ahead of yourself, chère. You should save your strength. And your cries.” He pushed my hair off my forehead. “I assure you, the worst is yet to come.”

I panted, fear clawing at my guts. The knife filled my vision. “Please, don’t do this,” I begged.

“I don’t have a choice,” Armand said. His tone turned polite, almost reasonable. “Draithmere is spelled. Only its inhabitants can find it. But your father was kind enough to give me a sample of your blood, which allowed me to hire Urzeb to track you.” Armand flipped the knife once, the hilt slapping into his palm. “Scorab demons can find anyone with even the smallest drop of blood. It’s a pity they’re such assholes, non?”

My heart pounded against the concrete. My mouth was so dry that my tongue stuck to the inside of my cheek.

Armand sighed. “I admit, the loss of my wolves irks me. But I can face Rothkilde without them. Now that he doesn’t have his Legerdemain handler, he’s vulnerable. And when he’s vulnerable, he can be killed. I just need a powerful enough motivator to make him break the chains of his prison. That’s where you come in.”

Fear choked me. Tears and sweat stung my eyes.

Hector stepped on my wrist.

Armand smiled.

Then he sliced my pinky off.

Chapter

Twenty-One

EINAR

Consciousness returned like floodlights filling a pitch-black room. I lay on my side with the familiar cool, dry air of the crypt in my nostrils.

Harper.

I jumped to my feet, expecting to hear the clatter of my chains against the concrete. But I was unbound.

“Prince Einar!” Goliath stepped from the shadows with Adina at his heels. Signs of fatigue clung to both of them, their clothes rumpled and their eyes sunken.

“How long have I been out?” I demanded, panic rising. “Where’s Arlo? Why didn’t he chain me? Is Harper safe?”

“Armand Reverdin took her,” Goliath said, his tail tucked between his legs. “He got Arlo, too. He would have taken me, but Myrna distracted him.”

Red descended over my vision. If I hadn’t just emerged from an episode of madness, I would have immediately spiraled again. Even so, my beast threatened to snap its restraints.

“When?” I rasped.

“Two days ago,” Adina said.

Armand had Harper. He fucking had her. Werewolves had entered Draithmere and taken the only woman I ever…

I tried to smother the thought, but it broke through anyway, the force of my realization almost taking me to my knees.

I loved her. Harper was the only woman I’d ever loved. And I’d failed to protect her because I was weak. Broken.

“Your Highness?” Goliath ventured. He and Adina stared at me, a mixture of wariness and expectation on their faces.

---