“You okay with this?” Titus growled, glancing at the locked eight-foot-high gate, and swung the bolt cutters up.

He was the one risking his job, risking everything, and yet he was worried about me? Something had softened between us. There was a need as he reached for my face and brushed a strand of hair behind my ear.

He needed touch, needed comfort.

“I’m more than fucking ready. Now, I dunno about you, but I think it’s better the guy with a criminal record gets to do the honors.”

Rival took a step and reached for the cutters. He lifted his head, meeting Titus' gaze. “If this shit goes south, we’ll need you doing what you do.”

“He’s right. You can’t risk your job. Anything that brings you under suspicion is something we need to avoid.”

He looked from me to Rival, and I saw the changed man. I’d only ever seen him as the perfect officer, straight down the line…only seeing things in black and white, and yet, here he was, dancing in the gray with a night-walking witch and a hellhound.

He handed Rival the cutters and stepped away. I stared through the fence to the towering warehouse beyond. I couldn’t remember a thing—I reached for the back of my head, not the blow—not the drive here…I looked around, searching the compound for a car or a van.

Under the harsh morning sun, the towering old clapboard warehouse was quiet, and sullen. Not a place for terror, and not a place for death.

The cutters ground through the chain links with a snap. I stared at the ground, finding fresh tire marks, and shuddered.

Heat raced, tearing through my core. I clenched a fist as, deep inside, something whispered…something dark…something dangerous.

“You okay?”

I jerked my head up at the concern in Titus’ voice. The cutting stilled as Rival straightened. Flames burned, flaring a little brighter as he focused on me. “Lorn?”

I forced a smile and nodded. “All good, just trying to remember. It’s nothing…honestly, it’s nothing.”

They stared for a second, searching the lies for a fragment of the truth. I clenched my fist tighter as Rival gave a nod and turned back to the fence. But Titus wasn’t as convinced, dropping his gaze to the strained muscles at my side, and then turned his gaze toward Rival.

He wouldn’t push me, wouldn’t force me into saying anything I wasn’t ready to say. Rival worked fast, opening up a gash wide enough to duck through. He gripped the cut edges of the metal links and yanked. “Ladies first.”

I flinched, and then couldn’t fight the small smile. I’d never had anyone looking out for me, not like this—and, as stubborn and independent as I was, it felt nice.

I ducked my head and scurried through, listening to the heavy twang as Titus was close behind. A breeze picked up, something cool and urgent. I lifted my head to the morning sun and blinked into the blur. But the heat wasn’t there, not like it was a moment ago.

“We go in together, okay, Lorn?”

I nodded as Titus reached for the waistband of his jeans and pulled his Sig free. It hit me then…like a runaway train.

He was human…vulnerable. I swallowed that thought and surged forward. Boots crunched, striding wide as we headed for the warehouse.

“Stay together,” I snarled. “We need to stay together.”

Rival glanced at me, and then at Titus, and gave a nod. In this moment, he wasn’t rogue. In this moment, there was more than him.

We hit the corner, glanced along the side, and then made for the massive double doors. One push and Titus shook his head. “Need to find another way in.”

Memories flashed through my mind. Tires screaming, tearing through the night. Pain lashed the back of my head, pain and terror. My pulse sped with the image. I tried to reach for my neck, just as I had in that moment, and was thrown against the side as we turned, and then turned again.

“Hey,” Rival murmured. His fingers brushed my arm, the first contact slow, waiting for me to respond. “If you can’t do this, it’s okay.”

I forced a smile. I’d been through worse...hell, I’d suffered worse at my own damn hands. I looked at the weathered wooden walls. “I’m good. I need to do this,” I lifted my gaze to his. “I need to see.”

We skirted the corner as a thud echoed, and a second later it came again, calling, urging us forward. I followed Titus along the side, lifting my gaze to the high windows above.

The soft bang was followed with a screech of metal. My heart leaped as Titus peeked around the corner and then moved. I’d never felt fear, not true fear—not my own fear. Not until now.

The small door cracked open, only to slam shut a second later. Titus neared, stared through the opening as it opened, and then reached for the door.

And then he was gone, slipping into the dark void. Pain savaged my chest as I stumbled, shoving forward just that little too hard.

The hinges screeched, sending a scream through the space. I blinked, trying to force my eyes to adjust, and stared at the murky sight.

It was the smell that hit me. Hot, and foul, bitter pennies in an ocean of filth. Acid rose in the back of my throat. I pushed in, swallowed, and then swallowed again.

Shadows clung to the edges. I focused on the light from the high windows, following the rays down to the open space. An old boat sat to one side, and then a dark blue van.

The van…fragments rattled around inside my head. I stepped closer, drawn to the eerie feeling of familiarity. “That’s what I was in.” I jerked my gaze up, finding Titus. “That’s the van they took me in.”

But Titus couldn’t move. He was still staring at the ground and murmured, “Jesus.”

I tried to move, tried to step. It was just blood, just parts, I told myself. I’d seen more than my fair share, still, the horror never leaves you. Not the witches you held as they died, and not the arms and legs left behind by a savage demon.

I tried to push them all down. Tried to cover the horror and fear with a smart mouth and one eager middle finger. 

But, sooner or later, the things I’d seen caught up.

Titus bent, lifting things before they fell back to the floor with a thud. Rival moved to my left, slipping away to what was a tiny office.

But it was the van I wanted. The van with its dark secrets. The van with the smell of the demon who took me.

“She’s not here.”

I turned to Titus as he stood amongst the carnage. He leaned forward, sucked in a hard breath, and murmured, “She’s not here. Thank God.”

I yanked open the back door of the van. She could’ve climbed inside, could’ve hidden until daylight and then snuck away. The inside was dark, and empty. I leaned in, touching the cold metal floor, and found the glare of white, like tiny pieces of paper.

“Hey guys,” Rival called.

He moved into the doorway of the tiny office. “They’re printing tickets for some gig tomorrow night.”

“Don’t tell me,” I snarled, and snagged the ripped stub from the corner. “Wicked, right?”

He gave a nod and then stared at the thick wad of tickets in his hand. “A little too coincidental for my liking.”

That was the truth. Everything came back to that club. Everything came back to this drug. I leaned in, searching the darkened corners, as the gut-clenching sound of Titus gagging turned my head.

“We need to find her,” Titus called. “I can’t let this rest. Can’t walk away from this without knowing she’s alive.”

I climbed out of the darkness and turned. “We’ll find her. I promise you, I’ll do everything in my power.”

A sound slipped through the air, soft, guttural, standing the hair on the nape of my neck. I turned toward the shard of light, finding movement in the dark.

“Titus,” I called.

But he was already moving. He was already lifting his hand, scanning the hidden corners of this place with the barrel of his firearm.

And out of the darkness they came, slow and quiet. Silver eyes glinted in the dark. Midnight bristles stood on end.

Fragments of white caught my gaze as Rival dropped the tickets and surged forward. White cardboard fluttered to the ground, like bits of confetti in his wake.

But as the wolves stepped forward into the light, all I could think about was Titus. I left the van behind, lunging toward him, as Rival answered the threat with a sickening snarl of his own.

He hunkered, falling to the floor on all fours. Flames were alight in his eyes as he left the man behind—for the beast.

Bones crunched and then snapped. He shuddered as fabric tore. He lifted his gaze, terror nailing me to the spot. “Lorn,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”