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Maria was frowning at Gloria, but her expression was one of thought—not annoyance. “I have a law degree,” she said, pondering as she touched her chin. “And I am a better lawyer than him. But I get your point.” She placed her fierce attention on me. I instinctively shrunk back at the look, but, thankfully, she ignored my mistake. “Bianca, we’ll get you out of here, okay? Titus is here too, and—”
“Titus is here?” Ada sat straighter at this revelation. “They did manage to capture him?”
“Yes.” Maria pushed the loose locks of her blond hair behind her ear. “We were also ambushed. Albert Yates said that he had information for us when …”
“Information?” Gloria asked. “On what?”
Maria’s gaze flickered in my direction, and my breath caught.
It was for me. It was my fault.
“Albert works at the courthouse, there was no reason not to trust him. Some of his information had checked out recently.” Maria’s reply sounded so far away. “He said that he had information on Jason Patterson.”
Every mention of him was a constant reminder of my shortcomings. After all, if I was a stronger person, I could have said something to stop them ten years ago.
Maybe I could have prevented most of this.
My breath sounded loud in my ears. I wasn’t safe—not from Mr. Richards and not fromhim. This was proof—we’d been caught by someone who’d known about Titus’s research, and who knew how to get him to let down his guard.
We were taken by someone who—potentially—shared a connection with them.
I wasn’t safe—I would neverbesafe.
I could feel myself falling, my hold on reality slipping through the cracks in my shattering sanity. It would be too easy to return to a place where I didn’t have to feel anymore.
But Titus was here, and he’d gotten caught on my behalf.
I had to pull myself together.
I had to help him. It was a need I couldn’t even begin to explain.
I wanted to see him.
Focus.
The door skidded open, cutting the shifter’s arguments short, and Jameson strolled down the stairs. His slick hair was no longer smooth and immaculate, but rather was now filled with static. And the smooth confidence he’d been displaying before was nowhere to be found. He stopped at the door, touching the keypad.
“Aw,” Maria taunted, sarcastically. “Are you having some trouble with your prisoner? Can’t seem to hold him?”
“Not for much longer.” He might have looked frazzled, but his stride was strong and purposeful ducked under the cell door as it slowly slid up.
I cowered—there was literally nowhere else to go—and buried my face into my knees.
The self-assured tone was gone from Maria’s voice when, suddenly, she asked, “What are you doing?”
I could feel him towering over me, and he didn’t reply, didn’t even pause, as rough fingers twisted through my hair, and a sharp pain radiated from my head and down my neck as he pulled me to my knees. My eyes watered, but I couldn’t rub them, nor do anything to relieve the pressure on my head. He’d pulled me taunt against the chains, and my arms were trapped by my side as the manacles cut into my wrists.
Jameson grabbed my chin, his narrowed eyes studying mine. They swirled with a mixture of green and gray, and a slight hint of fear.
“She can do it again,” he said finally, addressing the two different men who’d followed him into the cell. “Get it ready.”
My body tensed as they pulled out the small, shiny objects once more, setting them around the circle.
“Are you insane?” Gloria cut in, struggling against her bindings. “YouknowDeclan and Bryce Dubois. You know how they can get. If you kill her, even accidently, they’ll—”
“I do know them,” Jameson replied. He let go of my hair, and I fell to the floor, pressing my face against the cold surface. I was dizzy and, even though I wasn’t even in that circle yet, it was getting harder and harder to breathe. “But I have no choice. I also know that Declan has nothing but loathing for the organization. He’ll thank me later, after I’ve succeeded.”
Someone grabbed at my ankle, and another at my wrists, releasing the locks. It was then that true fear gripped at me. I panicked. Maria was saying something in the background—a barrage of threats falling onto unhearing ears. My senses whirled together in a confusing mix of light and wind. I kicked out at one of the hands, clawed at the others, but to no avail. Though I was sure I’d drawn blood from one of them, it didn’t matter. The same deafening weight pressed into me the second I’d been placed back onto the floor.
