Her fingers tightened around his. “Bring her back to us.”
“I will,” he promised. “No matter what it takes.”
As he turned to meet the security officers, the cold fury in his chest crystallized into deadly purpose. Whoever had taken Talia had made a fatal mistake. They had attacked his family, taken one of his children.
They would soon discover exactly what that meant.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Kara’s head throbbed as consciousness returned in painful waves. The clinical smell of antiseptic filled her nostrils, and bright lights pierced her eyelids before she even opened them. When she finally did, the world swam before resolving into focus.
Rory’s face hovered inches from hers, his eyes wide with fear. His fingers fluttered rapidly at his sides—a sure sign of his distress. Behind him, Thraxar paced the small medical room, his tail lashing with barely contained fury.
“Rory,” she whispered, her throat dry and scratchy. She reached for him, and he immediately pressed himself against her side, his small body trembling.
Thraxar was at her side in the next moment, his large form seeming to fill the entire space beside the bed. “You’re awake again.” Relief and rage battled in his voice. “How do you feel?”
“Like someone used my head for target practice.” She tried to sit up and winced. “Help me up?”
His strong hands supported her back as she shifted into a sitting position. The room tilted briefly before settling. “Talia,” she said, memories flooding back. “They took Talia.”
“Yes.” The single word contained volumes of promised violence.
She closed her eyes, trying to piece together the fragments of memory. “I was having such a good day.”
The morning had been perfect—waking up beside Thraxar, his scales warm against her skin, watching his face soften as he looked at her before he left for his first day at Jerra’s shop. He’d kissed her deeply, promised to return early, and headed out with a lighter step than she’d ever seen from him.
She and the children had spent the morning arranging their meager belongings in the house, making plans for what they would need. Talia had found an old broom and swept the main living area with determined concentration while Rory arranged his collection of objects in various corners, marking his territory in his own way.
By afternoon, they’d ventured into the small garden, clearing away dead plants and discovering a few hardy vegetables that had survived neglect. Talia had laughed—actually laughed—when a small lizard-like creature scurried across her bare toes.
“We were making dinner,” she said, the memories becoming clearer. “Rory was helping me chop those purple root vegetables we found in the garden.”
Rory made a soft humming sound beside her, his fingers now tracing patterns on her arm.
“Talia was stirring the pot,” she continued. “And then…” She frowned. “Rory made a sound. Not his usual sounds—it was different. Like a warning.”
Thraxar moved closer, his attention fully on her. “What happened next?”
“I started to turn, but something hit me—a spray of some kind. It smelled sweet, then everything went dark.” She looked at him, panic rising. “Did they hurt Rory?”
“No.” His hand covered hers reassuringly. “He was unharmed physically. He was hiding under the table when I returned.”
She turned to her son, examining him with both a mother’s and a nurse’s eye. He seemed physically intact, but the trauma was evident in his rigid posture and the way he kept one hand firmly wrapped in her medical gown.
“Can you tell me anything about who took her?” Thraxar asked, his voice gentler than she’d expected given the tension radiating from his body.
“I didn’t see them. It happened too fast.” Guilt washed over her. “I should have been more alert. I should have?—”
“No,” he said firmly. “This is not your fault. The security team is searching the area, but they found little evidence. Whoever did this knew what they were doing.”
A medical worker entered the room, checking her vitals on a nearby monitor. “The neuroinhibitor is clearing your system nicely,” they said. “You should be able to leave soon, though I recommend resting for the next twelve hours.”
“I don’t have twelve hours,” she said, already pushing herself toward the edge of the bed. “Someone took our daughter.”
The medical worker’s expression softened with sympathy. “I understand, but pushing yourself too hard won’t help find her.”
Thraxar made a low rumbling sound in his chest that Kara had come to recognize as frustration. “The trail grows colder with every passing moment.”