Waves of painful awareness crashed through Meg, pulling her out of the darkness. Her body had morphed to a strange combination of concrete and taffy while she was out, the drug leaving everything dull and impossible to extract herself from. She lay perfectly still and tried to figure out where the hell she was. The last thing she remembered…

Alys.

Dorian.

Did Theo and Galen know she was gone yet? She had no idea how long she’d been out, but surely she wouldn’t go missing in the freaking palace for more than thirty minutes without someone noticing. No, they had to know she was gone by now.

“Good morning, Consort.”

She dragged her eyes open and squinted into the bright light of the room. It was empty except for the cot she lay on and the chair occupied by Dorian. Meg stared at him for a long moment, and then slowly pushed herself up into a sitting position. She doubted her legs could hold her at this point, but having a conversation with the enemy while she was on her back was out of the question. Another glance around the room offered no clues to where they’d taken her.

Dorian gave her a warm smile, the kind meant to be reassuring, but all it accomplished was sending alarm bells blazing through her. “I think it’s time you and I had a little talk.”

“Why?” She pressed a hand to her forehead. Everything hurt, but her head most of all. It throbbed in time with her heart, the pain somehow bigger than her skull. “Why keep me alive? It’s obvious you want me out of the palace. Why bother going through this song and dance and wasting everyone’s time?”

He chuckled. “I can see why my son likes you.”

He’s not your son anymore. She bit the words back. Antagonizing him wasn’t a smart idea, no matter how much she wanted to throw sentences at him like swords, to try to deal him even a portion of the pain he’d dealt Galen over the years. Instead, she did her best to swallow down her anger and focus. “We have a lot in common.”

“A unique kind of fire.” He leaned forward and braced his elbows on his thighs. “From a trailer park to the palace in Thalania. I have to say, your ambition outshines even my own. It’s rather impressive.”

It’s not like that. I didn’t plan on this. More words, stuffed down deep. Meg leaned carefully back against the wall the cot had been shoved against. The room kept spinning, and the last thing she wanted was to collapse and reveal just how screwed up the drugs still had her. She was in no shape to make a run for it. Even if she was physically capable of it, she didn’t know where she was, what the layout of this place looked like. She needed more information, and the only current source of information was smiling at her like he’d just won the lottery.

Whether it was the Mega Millions or Shirley Jackson’s Lottery depended solely on Meg.

“You have a point. Get to it before I puke on your shoes.”

“Mmm. I should apologize about the drugs. Alys gets a little over-excited at times and she wasn’t sure she could convince you to follow along without a little… assistance.”

“Lovely.” She’d never particularly liked Alys, but Meg had always chalked that up to what the woman represented—an ever-present reminder that Meg would never be good enough, would always be stepping in some kind of mess every time she left her suite. She had ignored her instinctive dislike because she blamed herself.

Way to go, Meg. The enemy was right under your nose and you had no idea.

Dorian shifted. “You’re obviously a woman who knows her worth, and knows how to make the world work for her.”

Would he say that if he saw her staggering student loans? Or how close she’d been to going under completely before Theo and Galen walked into her life? Meg was resourceful, sure, but that sort of thing only went so far. Sometimes the world just kicked a person in the teeth and kept on kicking until they were curled in a ball, helpless on the floor. Meeting Theo and Galen was nothing short of chance, and everything that had happened since sometimes felt like the best kind of fever dream. Up until recently, Meg had taken no ownership of that, but she wasn’t about to admit as much to this man.

When she didn’t immediately jump in, his smile widened. “I think we can help each other.”

She laughed. She couldn’t help it. “I’m sorry, but do you usually try to kill people before you recruit them? Doesn’t seem like the most effective policy.”

“Ah. Yes, well.” Dorian grimaced. It was the tiniest of breaks in his smile, but present all the same. “Plans change and, as I mentioned, Alys is… overzealous.”

So Alys had been the one to shove her down the stairs. Meg suspected as much after the whole poisoning incident, but she tucked the confirmation away for later use. She pressed her palm to her forehead. The dizzy spells weren’t abating, and though she’d mostly threatened to puke on Dorian out of spite, it might be a very real possibility in the near future. “Why don’t you stop pussyfooting around and tell me what you’re offering?”

Another low chuckle. She hated that he almost sounded like Galen when he laughed like that, loathed even the tiniest of similarities beyond their blatantly shared physical traits. He straightened. “You want to stay in the palace. I want to ensure my goals are enacted by the Crown. Like I said, I think we can help each other.”

Clarity sifted through her, slower than she would have liked. “You want me to, what, be your mole?” Meg frowned. That didn’t make sense. He had to know she had absolutely no incentive to do what he wanted. “Why?”

“You’re uniquely positioned.” Dorian examined his palms. “I think I’ve made it quite clear I can get to you—and anyone in the palace—if I want to.”

“You have,” she said slowly. “But I’m already here. If you’re going to kill me—”

“Oh no, my dear. Not you.” He looked up, the warm seeping from his expression, revealing the snake beneath. “But it would be increasingly unfortunate if people around you simply began dropping like flies. Poison is such nasty business, and so easy to administer. Maybe to a shiny new Head of House. Or perhaps to a certain princess who meddles in things she had no business interfering with. Or even the King himself. The possibilities are truly endless.”

Meg stared. Was he really planning on blackmailing her with the safety of the people around her? Devious, to be sure, but… It still didn’t make sense. If that was his play and he was just as brilliant and everyone seemed to think, he would have gone about it in a different way. “So you’re just going to take my word for it and let me go if I agree to this?”

“The consequences for you breaking your word are high enough to warrant consideration.”

They were, but… Meg shook her head, the room giving another sick turn around her. Something was wrong. Something… She exhaled harshly. Dorian wanted her dead. That was the one consistent factor that ran through this whole nightmare. She’d done nothing in that time to make him think it was possible to turn her, and he wasn’t a stupid man. Evil, yes. But not stupid. He had to know she would go directly back to Galen and Theo and tell them everything.

Then why not murder her here and now? Why not take her out while she was still drugged and just dump her body somewhere? That was more logical than this weird blackmail situation. The only thing he offered by allowing her a chance to get back to Theo and Galen was…

Hope.

He offered hope.

What better way to hurt someone than to give them a moment when they were sure everything would be fine, and then snatch it away at the last moment? Meg closed her eyes, but that only made her dizziness worse. “Will it be a sniper set up to take me out the second I’m within touching distance of them? You can’t let me get back into the palace and the relative safety it offers. Another accident won’t work now that everyone’s guard is up, and you burned Alys’s cover when you had her take me.” The words tasted foul on her tongue, but realizations hit her, one after another. What had he mentioned… “Poison. It’s got to be poison. How long will I have? A day? A week?”

She opened her eyes to find him appraising her with new interest in those dark eyes. He pushed slowly to his feet, towering over her, but made no move to come closer. “Smart little thing, aren’t you? Brave and foolish like my son. Cunning like Theodore. No wonder they couldn’t resist you.”

“I won’t do it. I won’t go back just to hurt them.”

Dorian shrugged and headed for the door. “It doesn’t really matter what you think, my dear. You are just a pawn in a larger game. My boy had a chance to return to the fold and chose not to come to heel. Now he’ll be brought to his knees as everything about him turns to ash. Starting with you.” He walked out of the room and closed the door softly. The sound of the lock clicking into place echoed through Meg’s head, making everything hurt more.

Time. I just need time. He brought me here for a reason instead of just having Alys dose me. I have time, and it’s not over until I’m dead.

She slipped back to the cot and rolled carefully onto her back. She just had to think. To plan.

There was a way out of this. She just had to find it.

Galen stared through the binoculars at the house on the cliff. “Going to be tough.” They stood on the boat they’d rented earlier today from a town several miles away.

“Walk me through it.” Theo’s voice curled through the space between them, a comfort and a glaring reminder of their missing piece.

Galen took a deep breath and told him what they’d discovered up to this point. Maybe Dorian had started in Williamshire, but he’d left right around the time they got surveillance up, traveling to his place in Greece. They’d followed covertly, and, for all intents and purposes, he appeared to have settled in here.

Satellite images told them that storming the house by land was damn near impossible. It was even tougher to get to than Galen’s place, and he’d intentionally purchased that house for its location and natural defenses. Only one narrow road approached his old man’s house, and there were snipers set up on the hills on either side of it. In fact, judging from the heat signatures, he had an entire team around the house.

Which was why they were here, dressed in knitted sweaters and boat shoes and with every single female member of Kozlov’s security team draped around the boat in tight clothing and making a show of drinking themselves stupid. It might be off season for this kind of thing, but idiot rich men had been partying on the Aegean since time began. The security staff would note their existence, but as long as they acted the part, that’s all they’d do.

He expected his old man was otherwise occupied.

No. Can’t think about that right now.

“What if she’s—” Theo’s thoughts had obviously shadowed his down that dark path.

“She’s alive. If he wanted her dead, better to do it in the palace and prove how ineffectual we are.” He hated how quickly his mind grasped his father’s intentions, even after decades of avoiding the man. Dorian was always scheming, always looking for a toe up and an opportunity to kick out the legs of the people around him. He had a plan in place when he’d taken Meg, and something so simple as death at his hands wouldn’t satisfy it. “I’ll bring her back, Theo.”

“I know.” Theo cleared his throat. “You come back safely, too.”

“I will.” Another promise he couldn’t guarantee that he’d keep. He finally looked at Theo, at the worry written across every line of his face. “Thank you for staying in the boat.”

Theo made a face. “I’m no use to you up there. Isaac’s team is better trained and they’ve worked together for years. You can slip into that dynamic without an issue, but I can’t.” He ran his hand through his hair. “But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“I know.” They walked down below deck to where Kozlov had laid out the plans for the house and now stared at them as if he could divine their secrets. “Best guess, she’s in the basement.”

“Makes sense.” Less chance of an escape that way. Galen surveyed the plans and the map surrounding them, filled with markers to indicate where the patrols were. Galen and Theo took seats on the other side of the minuscule table. “We come up this way.” Galen touched the cliff face next to the docks. Dorian had two men on the docks themselves, and another two covering the narrow staircase up the cliff to the house. He really only needed two men since it bottlenecked too effectively for a swarming attack.

They weren’t going to swarm.

They were going to scale that fucking cliff and take out everyone who got in their way. Galen clenched his fists. “We go as soon as it’s dark.”

“Yes.”

One of Kozlov’s people guided their ship away from the house, keeping up the meandering path of a part-time sailor with more money than skill. It wouldn’t do them any favors to bring attention their way or cause anyone in that house to ask questions that would raise suspicions.

The hours passed slowly and too quickly, all at once. They went over the plan again and again, until Galen practically vibrated with the need to move, to act, to do something other than sit in this too-tiny space filled with emotions he had no answer for. Going out on deck wouldn’t be any better, and he’d end up tracking the sun in the sky and calculating the distance left to travel.

For once, Theo offered no distraction. He simply sat in silence, his thoughts likely occupying the same dark space. Without looking over, he laced his fingers through Galen’s. “We will get her back.”

“Yes.” Meg believed in the power of words and actions, and if they couldn’t act in this moment, they still had their words. “We’ll get her back,” he confirmed.

Theo nodded and went back to watching the light glint off the water outside their boat.

Time passed, the seconds solidifying into minutes, minutes hardening into hours. As the last sliver of sun sank beneath the horizon, the low sound of a motor cut through the silence. Kozlov pushed to his feet, though his height required him to bend to avoid knocking his head on the ceiling. “It’s time.”

Meg woke feeling… not refreshed. Nowhere near refreshed. But when she opened her eyes, she felt a little less like death. The room no longer spun and her headache had decreased into something just shy of tolerable. She lay still for several long minutes, counting her inhales and doing her best to calm the thoughts racing in circles through her mind.

She had no idea where she was.

She had no idea what the building looked like outside of this little room.

She had no idea how she was going to escape, or what she’d face if she was able to.

The only thing she knew was that she had to try.

One last inhale and she pushed slowly up to a sitting position. When the room stayed firmly in place, she stood. So far, so good. She walked carefully around her room, examining it from every angle, letting her legs get used to pulling their weight again. The space was exactly what she’d seen the first time. Four white walls. A cot welded to the floor. No windows to speak of.

And no bathroom.

Good.

Meg let weariness wash over her. She’d never been an actress, but she’d have to pull that skillset out of her ass right now. It didn’t take much playing pretend to shamble back to the door and insert hoarse panic into her voice. “Hey! Hey, I need to use the bathroom.”

“Hold it.” A gruff male voice that most certainly wasn’t Dorian.

Thank god.

She hit the door again, harder. “I just got my period. I can’t hold it. It’s going to look like a murder happened in here if I don’t get some feminine products and a bathroom. Now!” Meg held her breath. This kind of ploy would never work on a guy who was the least bit familiar with how menstruation worked, but she’d wager Dorian didn’t hire his men for their feminist mentalities.

Sure enough, a low curse sounded on the other side of the door. “Back away and sit on the bed. I’m coming in.”

“Thank you. Oh god, thank you.” She obeyed the command, but she cupped between her legs for good measure, as if she really was terrified about bleeding out on the floor. “Please hurry.”

The door opened mere seconds later, but she counted three separate clicks before it did. Taking no chances there. She couldn’t let them put her back in this room. She’d never be able to escape if she stayed locked up here. She wasn’t sure she could escape, but she’d damn well try.

The man who walked through the door looked like he’d been pulled from a casting lineup for Nameless Mercenary #2. He had tattoos peeking above the collar of his shirt and his muscles bulged out from beneath a black T-shirt that was at least two sizes too small. Fatigues and shiny black boots finished off the look. He even had a scar through one of his eyebrows, a perfectly straight shiny white line that almost looked fake.

He looked around as if expecting to be doused in blood at any moment. “Come on. Don’t… get it anywhere.”

“I’m trying.” She kept her hands strategically placed and followed him out of the room and into a narrow hall. If Meg had Galen’s skills, she could have pulled some fancy move and incapacitated the man—or maybe just punched him into unconsciousness—but all she had was herself. She shuffled along behind him, doing her best to take in everything without looking like she was doing exactly that.

They turned one corner and then another, until he all but shoved her into a bathroom. “There should be something in there. Hurry up.” He slammed the door in her face.

Meg wasted no time. She rifled through the cabinet for something useful, but it only held the usual things. Manly razors. Shaving cream. A handful of toothbrushes and two types of toothpaste. She eyed the bar of soap in the shower. Maybe she could embed the razors into it and use it as a slashing weapon? She’d seen it done in a movie once but…

No, it might work against one person, but she couldn’t fight her way out of this place with that kind of weapon. She hadn’t seen a weapon on her guard, so there was no guarantee he had a gun, and…

Stop. Breathe. Focus.

She used the toilet and then made a show of rattling around and making pained noises after she was finished. Her gaze lifted to the tiny window positioned near the ceiling. It was too narrow for a grown man, but Meg could probably wiggle through. She sure as hell had the motivation. She just needed the time.

“Hey! Hurry up in there.”

She jumped. Time was one thing she didn’t have. Yet. Meg pasted the most pitiful look on her face and cracked open the door. “There’s nothing in here, and the toilet paper is so thin, I’ll bleed through it inside of an hour, even if I layer up. Should I do that?” Come on, she silently urged. You don’t want to have to drag me to the bathroom once an hour until Dorian decides to enact his evil plan.

The same thoughts must have been dragging through her guard’s mind because he gave her a disgusted look. “Stay in there. I think the upstairs bathroom has something.” He took a step back and looked at her, his dark eyes soulless. “I mean it, little girl. Stay the fuck in that room if you know what’s good for you. I might be nice, but the rest of my team isn’t, and if they find you out alone…” He shrugged. “You won’t like it.”

Great. Good to know. She let her bottom lip quiver. “I won’t go anywhere.”

“Better not.”

She shut the door and counted slowly to five, long enough for his heavy footsteps to move away from the bathroom. This was the only chance she’d get. Meg threw herself into motion. She climbed onto the back of the toilet and worked the latch of the window loose. It unlocked without a sound and she muscled it open.

Salty sea air drifted into the bathroom, as familiar as her own name. No telling how far they were from the ocean, but at least she had a starting point. Meg cast one last glance over her shoulder and hauled herself up and through the window. It was a tighter squeeze than she liked, and she had to wiggle to dislodge her hips from the opening, but the fact it was so close to the ground worked in her favor and she was able to claw herself free. She carefully closed the window and crouched in the shadows, trying to get her bearings. The house blocked what little moonlight the night sky offered, and all that lay before her was darkness. In the distance, she thought she caught the soft sound of water, but she couldn’t be sure of that. Maybe her nose was making her ears play tricks on her.

No telling which direction was the right one. The only thing she knew was that she couldn’t stay here. The guard would be back in a few minutes—if not less time—and then she’d be in trouble.

She was already in trouble.

Meg counted slowly to three and pushed away from the house. She had to move. Rocks cut into her bare feet, and she had to hold her dress off the ground to prevent it from dragging. Evening gowns were hardly created for stealth. She reached a waist-high rock ledge and paused. She knew these rocks. Well, not these specific ones, but this type.

Greece.

She was in Greece.

She squinted into the dark. The ledge stair-stepped up into the night, probably to some kind of cliff face. At least that’s what the land around Galen’s house did. If Dorian’s was set up in similar fashion, there would only be two ways out—a road or the water. She looked both ways, but in the end there was really only one option. Any route that allowed cars in and out would be watched much closer than the way down to the sea. She had no idea what she’d do if she managed to get to the water. Summer was many long months away, and a cruel wind bit through the flimsy fabric of her dress. Swimming meant a nasty case of hypothermia.

If she didn’t drown first.

Can’t think about that now.

She edged in the direction she was now sure she could hear water sounds from. Maybe they weren’t as high up as Galen’s place was. Maybe it was just a matter of getting to the water, to a dock, and stealing a boat. Meg had never actually hotwired anything before, but she’d give it her best shot.

Several agonizing minutes later, the rock ledge she’d followed fell away into emptiness. She caught sight of a couple bobbing lights that might have been buoys or boats far, far below her. Damn it.

“Someone’s been naughty.”

The voice skittered up her spine and she spun as a man shifted away from where he must have been standing this entire time, watching her make her slow progress. His teeth flashed in the low light, but that’s the only impression she got of him.

That and danger.

Meg took a step back, but he was too fast. He grabbed her arm and yanked her roughly enough that if his body hadn’t been there to stop her forward momentum, she would have fallen. “Pretty little thing, aren’t you? No wonder Mikos kept you locked up tight away from the wolves.” His grin made her skin want to detach from her body and flee into the night. “Should have stayed where he put you.”

“Let go of me.” She shoved at his chest, but he was too strong. “I’ll—”

“Scream?” He laughed. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

Meg kicked at him, but her bare feet did more damage to her toes than to his boots. It didn’t matter as he dragged her farther from the minuscule light emanating from the house. In desperation, she went for his eyes, scratching and trying to dig her thumbs in the way one of the lady self-defense classes her college had offered last year.

He cursed and released her long enough to raise his arm to backhand her. Meg threw her hands over her face. Oh god, this is going to hurt. Don’t pass out. Don’t you dare pass out.

The blow never landed.

The man’s hold on her was gone so quickly, Meg stumbled. She hit her knees and dropped her hands in time to see his limp body disappear into the darkness. And then she was pulled against a large male chest. Instinct had her fighting, but then his scent hit her. Beneath the salt smell of the ocean was a hint of cloves and tobacco.

Galen.