Page 89 of Ronen
Someone had my mate. Someone had dared to take what was mine. Not only my mate, but our unborn child.
I would burn this fucking town down if it meant I got them back.
“I’ll be there,” I growled, hanging up and tossing my badge on my kitchen table.
Chapter Thirty-One
Ronen
Consciousness returned slowly. My body felt heavy and lethargic. My eyelids felt weighted and didn’t want to open.
Where am I?
Giving up on trying to open my eyes for the time being, I tried to gather as much information for my surroundings as I could.
“Use all your senses, Ronen,”Papa’s training whispered through my sluggish brain. Keeping my breathing as even as I could, I stayed still, ticking off in my mind the information I could ascertain.
I was sitting on a hard chair; my hands tied tightly behind my back. Not just mine though; no, my hands were tied with someone else’s. There was another person with me. Someone else they had taken captive.
Sniffing, I scented the air.
Damp. Mildew. Dirt.
Wolf. A familiar scent.
I knew that scent.
Matty.
Matty was tied to me, our hands behind our backs, facing away from each other.
Was he conscious?
Who were the people that took us? What did they want?
Money?
We were from a wealthy family, but to be honest, none of us had ever worried about a kidnapping threat. Not with our family and especially not with my parents around.
While money seemed like the most obvious conclusion, my gut told me this–whatever this was–was something else. Something that had nothing to do with money.
The scrape of a sole across the floor had me tensing inside, while I did my best to stay limp in my chair.
“I’ve stared at this picture every day since I was eleven,” the man hissed in heavily accented English.
Forcing my eyes open to slits, just enough to barely see my surroundings in front of me, I realized he must be addressing Matty. The only things in front of me were dirty concrete walls, and a heavy steel door that was firmly shut.
“You need to get a better hobby,” Matty snarked dryly, his British accent thick.
The next sound I heard was flesh hitting flesh, and my brother’s head slammed into the back of mine hard.
I couldn’t muffle the grunt that I let out when our skulls smacked together, but neither one of them seemed to be paying me any attention. Letting my chin hit my chest, I went limp, making it seem like my cry had been involuntary while I was still unconscious.
“Bastardo!” The curse was spat in Italian.
“My parents are happily married,” Matty spat back in perfect Italian.
“You speak Italian?” The man demanded, and I just knew he was the snake. The cobra that had taken me.
