Dylan collapsed beside his brothers in a small living room-style waiting room in their unused-until-today surgical ward. Hell, The Arsenal didn’t even have a medical team on site yet. Fortunately, Logan had come along and recruited a trusted surgeon to assist. Edge had dragged the spook doctor from a certain death, and he wasn’t about to bug out when she was down. He’d called in favors to make sure she got the best treatment possible.

Logan’s surgeon friend, Maisey Winn, seemed competent enough for a bitchy piranha. She took one look at Dylan “helicoptering” her patient and tossed his ass out. The door was locked.

He grudgingly admitted he’d gotten too close to this one. The protectiveness would go away once Mary was okay. He and his five brothers had a weak spot when it came to women getting hurt. The fact she was an operative who’d saved Nolan’s ass made it personal. She was a fellow operative, deserved their respect and protection. Whoever did this would pay.

Jesse, Marshall, Nolan, and Dallas kept him company in the small area. Cord was at a table pounding away at the laptop. He hadn’t so much as twitched except for his fingers on the keyboard.

Dallas flashed an empathetic grin only little brothers offered. Something was up. Dylan supposed they’d handled whatever crept around the corner. They always did. For now, he paced. What was taking so long?

The double doors swished open, and Logan came out in scrubs. He collapsed on the leather couch and settled elbows on his knees. Exhaustion created thick circles beneath his eyes, but it was the glinting rage in his gaze that unnerved Dylan.

“I’ve got a bead on her girl. Driggs dragged her to some Bogota hellhole,” Cord added from the table. “I’m trying to spoof into her feed, assess the situation.”

Damn. They’d already known it was an elaborate ruse. How would Edge react? The bastards had played one of the best back office operatives in the business.

“They used enhanced interrogation techniques on Edge. She was drugged, which would explain the dizziness and stumbling. Losing consciousness,” Marshall finished.

“Son of a bitch.” Dylan sat.

Martin Driggs was the money man behind Hive who’d struck gold when the real brains and balls behind it died in a car accident. Dylan didn’t trust the son of a bitch.

“I’m glad you were available on short notice. How is she?” Marshall asked.

“I have Edge stabilized. Her arm’s set, her injuries are all treated—what I can, at least. Three ribs will mend on their own, but I’ve wrapped them. Since we found the drugs onsite, I was able to put her on a detox regiment.”

“And the rest? Walk us through what happened,” Jesse ordered. “You’ve treated enough people in her condition to give an accurate account.”

“I really hate that question.” Logan dragged his hand across his face. “Interrogation likely started off fairly routine. Waterboarding. Sleep deprivation. White noise.”

The pause thickened the silence. The man’s jaw twitched.

“Rape,” Nolan finished.

Logan nodded.

Fuck. Dylan focused the rage rolling through him and waited for the rest.

“The cocktail skewed Edge’s reality enough to make enhanced interrogation methods plausible. It could’ve been anything. Between the beatings, the untreated broken arm, and the drugs, I doubt she maintained silence.”

“You think they got what they wanted,” Cord commented. “That she broke. No way.”

“More than likely, yes. Not many could’ve remained silent under those conditions, especially for the duration she endured. They had her for at least four days.”

“She’s Edge,” Dallas replied. “Cord’s right. She didn’t crack.”

“Good thing we arrived before they decided she wasn’t worth the continued effort,” Jesse glared over at the table. “You got a line on Quillery yet?”

“Enough of one. I embedded a coded message in her data stream, to come to Texas with all haste. She’ll figure out the rest.”

“I’ll clear my calendar and let my employer know I’m out of pocket indefinitely,” Logan replied.

“We’re not reading anyone in on this,” Marshall warned. “The Agency can’t know, especially if this is Hive related.”

“Understood.” Logan rose from the sofa. “That woman in there bailed my ass out of a cesspit last year. She was on vacation. Quillery was drunk, so she handled the mission alone, leading a SEAL team and two Hive operatives straight to my location through an eleven-hour, one-way trek through jungle when the Agency denied the fact I existed. I’ll pick having her back over theirs every time.”

“You’re in on whatever this is.”

“I’m in on whatever this is,” Logan repeated. “Someone will need to fill Edge in when she’s awake. I recommend sedating her until she’s recovered some.”

Marshall nodded.

“Has anyone tracked down Addy yet?” Logan asked.

“Cord’s working on it,” Nolan replied.

“I am?” Cord’s voice rose from the table. “I’m not the back-office genius.”

“You’ll do,” Marshall commented.

Dylan smirked as his brothers went at one another. The gallows rapport eased the tension in the room. Logan captured his gaze and nodded.

He followed the doctor through the double doors and into a small bedroom that’d been turned into a hospital room. Jesus. Too many wires came from her. Machines beeped and squawked. How could anyone rest with all the noise? And the lights.

Obnoxious fluorescents spilled into her eyes from just above her bed. Dylan reached over and flicked them off. There. That’d be more comfortable. He lowered the noise on the machines and dragged a chair near the bedside.

Edge was paler than before. He grasped her good hand and squeezed gently enough for her to feel the contact. “You’re safe, Mary. They aren’t getting to you again. We’re here.”

WATER FLOODED HER NOSTRILS. Don’t breathe. Don’t breathe. Her lungs burned. She kicked and punched. Pain shot up her arm, down her legs. Water continued flooding her nose, her mouth. The wet rag molded against her face. Dying. She clawed at the invisible hands pinning her down.

Alarms blared around Mary. Confusion silenced the screams ripping from her throat. Pain engulfed her, signaling she was alive. Her side hurt. She forced a shallow, hesitant breath. A strong, warm hand held hers. A rugged, gravelly voice boomed in her ear.

“Open your eyes, Mary.”

Soft lighting in the corner helped ease the transition as she ignored the pain and focused on the man looming above her. Fear clawed her insides, but her mind fired off a name before panic ensued. Dylan. She tugged her good hand from his grip and reached for the mask over her face.

“Easy, Edge,” he whispered. “They’re going to switch it out, okay? You’re safe, you’re at The Arsenal. Breathe for me, sweetheart.”

Mary took a hesitant breath, then another. Cool, fresh oxygen entered with each inhalation. She maintained the death grip on his hand and focused on the green depths of his eyes as she dragged in one breath after another.

Not drowning.

At The Arsenal.

Safe.

She repeated the three thoughts, allowing no others as her mind buzzed and her senses battled to understand her surroundings. A cool breeze swept across her skin from the left. Her right hand was in a cast up to her elbow.

“Hi there, Edge. Remember me?” A handsome man with dark brown hair falling around his stubble-covered jawline appeared in her peripheral vision. He seemed familiar. “Logan Callister.”

Ah, yes. The spook doc left in a jungle by his bastard comrades.

“You ready for me to switch you out of that mask?” he asked gently, his movements not bringing him any closer.

Mary nodded and earned a smile. She took another hesitant breath and angled her body closer to Dylan on the other side. Logan showed her a clear tube, which he set on the bed beside her.

“This will help you breathe until you’re doing better on your own. It goes into your nostrils, but won’t obstruct your face in any way, okay?”

Mary nodded. Breathing was good. Great. He switched the stuff out with a practiced efficiency, never once making her feel frightened or uncomfortable. Not that she’d feel comfortable anytime soon. Everything hurt. Painkillers numbed some of the aches but did nothing to erase the memories.

They’d almost broken her. If Dylan and his brothers hadn’t....

What ifs didn’t solve problems. Focus on facts. Get answers.

She relaxed back into the pillow behind her and watched Logan cautiously.

Dylan must’ve called him in.

Former Army Ranger. CIA doctor. An unknown variable. She hadn’t wanted outsiders involved. Too many lives hung in the balance as it was.

Vi.

Machines screamed as she caught Dylan’s hand.

“Vi.” The name squeezed out of her sore throat.

“Settle back, everyone’s okay.” The calm, even order mixed with assurance eased her angst.

The empty cell thundered through her thoughts, a shock rocking everything she’d survived. She hadn’t been there. No.

I heard her screams.

Her pleas.

Questions listed in her mind. She’d get answers later. An overwhelming floating sensation spread through her.

“I’ve given you a mild sedative. Nothing too strong, just enough to combat your anxiety, okay?” Logan asked.

“No drugs, stay awake. See Vi.” Mary forced the fractured thoughts out. Why was talking so hard?

“She needs rest, Dylan.”

She couldn’t rest until she saw Vi, knew for sure she was safe. Unharmed.

“No. See Vi.” She sounded like a belligerent child, but she couldn’t form whole sentences. An itchy, raw sensation crawled along her throat. No matter how much she rubbed, she couldn’t ease the ache.

“We had to insert a breathing tube during surgery. The discomfort will go away soon. You woke earlier than I expected.” Logan did the whole stethoscope in the ear thing and settled the cool metal circle on her chest. “Do you know where you are?”

“The Arsenal,” she replied.

“That’s right. It’s Thursday. Do you remember when you were taken?”

“Friday.” Almost a week ago. Her gut twisted. Memories flooded her, but she pushed them back. No good came from reliving what they’d done.

“Do you prefer Edge, or Mary?” Logan asked.

“Edge keeps me focused,” she responded.

His lips thinned to an almost imperceptible presence on his face. “Are you okay with Dylan being here while we go over things?”

“Yes.” The response was immediate, a bit shocking.

While Mary didn’t know him personally, she trusted him more than anyone else right now, and she needed someone in her corner. This was more than she was trained to handle. He’d shown up, rescued her.

“Would you like me to go over your injuries?” he asked gently.

“No,” she gritted through clenched teeth. “I remember what they did.”

“The ribs will heal on their own. Your arm should take four to six weeks. I operated to inflate your lung.” Logan sat on a stool beside the hospital bed. “Anything else you’d like to know?”

“Vi?”

Logan glanced at Dylan. They did the awkward man speak, chin lift, and grunt thing she’d seen too many times with Hive operatives.

“Mary, you were subjected to a highly concentrated regiment of drugs,” Logan said.

“I know.”

“Edge, they were hallucinogenic,” Dylan said. “They showed up in your tests.”

“Why would they do that?”

“That’s what we need to figure out,” Dylan replied. “We’ll save the full debrief until you’re more rested, but we need to know what you remember about Vi.”

“You said she wasn’t there. Why would you ask about her?” Mary sat up in the bed. She had to be around somewhere.

“She wasn’t there, Edge.” Dylan gripped her hand and squeezed. The firm contact drew her gaze, forced her mind to focus. “She was never there.”

“I heard her screams,” she whispered into the silence. “She had to have been there. I must’ve passed out and they moved her before you came.”

And cleaned up the cell she was in? Yeah, right. You aren’t that stupid, Mary. Focus.

“Were you kept together, or separate?” Logan asked.

“Separate, but I could hear her.” Mary wet her lips and forced her mind back to the cells. “They spent an hour with her, then they played cards and drank, then it was my turn.”

“An hour each time? An established pattern?” Logan asked. “How did you know how long?”

“A clock on the wall across from the cells.”

“Vi’s was next to yours?” Dylan asked.

Mary nodded mutely.

“Could you see the questioning area from your cage?”

“No, it was too far to the right. I could only hear.” She looked between the two men. “Ask Glenn. He was there. And another man with Vi. Glenn knew him. I didn’t get a name.”

“I’ll talk to him again,” Dylan said. “She wasn’t there, Edge.”

“I heard her,” she whispered. Phantom screams scraped across her mind.

Wait. Heard. She’d screamed the entire time they interrogated Vi. Her throat burned at the thought. But Vi...

“Vi only yelled when they had her, never when I was...” Mary cut off the statement as her mind processed the implication and added in what she’d seen when Dylan carried her to the cell beside hers. The empty cell. “She was never there.”

“The drugs, an established routine, pain, and sleep deprivation when combined with what they did to you would be enough not to notice if the voice was a recording,” Logan explained calmly.

“Or someone else,” Dylan muttered. “Did you talk with Vi? During the downtime?”

“Some.” More than she should have. “She didn’t talk back, but I assumed she was too injured, traumatized.”

Mary’s gut twisted as her mind attempted a recall of the conversations. Why couldn’t she remember?

“The drugs may have had some adverse side effects,” Logan commented. “You may never remember what all you spoke about.”

“She asked about the program, if I had it secured,” Mary whispered.

“Program?” Dylan prodded.

“HERA, something she and I created. Hive wanted it, but we refused. Then Peter was murdered and...” Mary swallowed. “Things got worse from there.”

Peter Rugers had been like a big brother to her and Vi. He’d co-founded Hive along with Martin Driggs. Though they’d both hated the other man, they’d worked alongside Peter happily. His younger sister, Addy, had become a best friend and was one of the best operatives they had in the field.

When Peter was murdered, she and Vi had activated their HERA platform and started a manhunt for whoever killed him. What they found surprised them both.

“Martin Driggs was behind this,” Mary said. “I have to talk to Vi.”

“Cord’s working on it. Driggs has her in some backwater Columbian village on assignment. Getting her attention without drawing anyone else’s is a challenge.”

“Get me a computer. I can do it.”

“All you’re doing is resting,” Logan stated. “Typing would do more harm than good right now.”

Right. The arm.

The fingernails.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t talk. I’ve been waiting to put you in your place a long time, Edge. Telling Command I’m not fit for duty? You’ll learn your lesson.”

Pliers clamped the edge of her nail. A scream ripped from her throat.

“Mary.”

The voice startled her. Warm hands cupped her face. Pasture green eyes studied her.

“Where did you go?” he asked.

“My nails.”

Dylan’s jaw twitched as his gaze sliced briefly to her fingers. “You recognize anyone? We captured two alive. Two dead. How many others?”

“I’m not sure. They all wore masks and kept me blindfolded some of the time. I have clues. Moles. Birthmarks. Speech patterns. Body frame types. They left a trail I can follow.”

“When you’re up to it, I’ll have Cord come in, sit with you. He’s good on a machine and can help until your hand feels better.”

The door knocked against the wall. A massive figure loomed in the entryway. Dylan half turned but made no move. Mary relaxed.

“We’ve got a situation up front,” the man said.

“Get Marshall or Nolan.”

“They’re part of the situation,” the man replied. “Someone penetrated our perimeter. They’ve taken hostages in reception.”

Mary leaned back and laughed. Pain coursed along her side, but she didn’t care. There was only one person who could’ve penetrated Arsenal defenses without setting off alarms. Well, except for her of course.

“Vi’s here. She’s okay.” The whispered statement dissolved the last of her unease. Her BFF would sort everything out. For now, Mary could rest.