Frustration boiled in Aster’s blood. The brothers had left her. Again. She was not a child who needed a babysitter, and she certainly wasn’t going to live out her life trapped on this island instead of trapped in a cage by Randall Fields. A thought skittered across her mind.

There was someone in a cage she owed some payback to, though.

She hadn’t missed when they had told Robin that The Surgeon was on the island, contained somewhere, nor had she missed Robin’s reaction. The man was worse than scum. He was deranged and needed to be put down. If she could figure out where he was, then she could find out what the hell that man had done to her while she was in his tender care. They had talked about trying to breed her like some kind of dog, testing to see if her ability was genetic or not. She, of course, was supposed to be impregnated too, so that if none of the other children had the ability, then they could test against a child carried in her own womb. The whole idea made her sick to her stomach.

Pacing around the big house was no help, especially now that Robin’s family was there as well. Her father was the biggest waste of space she’d ever seen. The man was dying without getting his gambling fix. Even though he looked like he’d been beaten until he lost consciousness, the only thing he could think about was where he might be able to lay some money against some ponies.

The other daughter, Robin’s sister, looked like she’d been through hell. Poor thing was shell shocked. She wouldn’t look at either of her parents, even though her mother was begging her to let her explain. Their voices were digging under her own skin. She could only imagine how Caitlyn felt. Robin’s parents seemed so self-centered that it amazed Aster that the banshee had risked anything to get them out of that hellhole, let alone her life itself.

She pulled a pair of running shoes on and decided to go exploring, because if she stayed in the house with those people, then she was going to snap, and she liked Robin. She didn’t want to upset her. Not that she could really do anything. One self-defense class and one judo class did not a warrior make.

Finally, out in the fresh air, the sounds of Robin’s family imploding were fading, and she could breathe again. Although, without them to distract her, her mind inevitably drifted back to the one place she had been trying to keep it from going all day.

Dem.

What the hell had he been thinking showing up in the kitchen like that? He seemed just as confused by everything as she was, and it pissed her off. He was supposed to be this immortal warrior. Surely he should have some parts of his life figured out by now. She kicked a rock, wanting to scream and throw a temper tantrum, but that made her feel like a little kid. She had to let her frustrations out somehow, though. She couldn’t help it, not if she wanted to stay sane. When the rock hit something metal, she stopped, her head turning toward the sound.

There was nothing there.

No structure, no seats, nothing that should have made that sound, and yet she had heard it. Walking over, she had to maneuver around some trees and under a bush. The rock had traveled further than she had intended, but then she felt it. Something hard under her foot. It wasn’t a natural hard, either; no rock or tree stump felt like that. She scuffed her foot back and forth, scraping away some of the dirt and leaves that had built up over the top, before hearing that familiar echo of metal.

Dropping to her knees, she began scooping away all the leaves and dirt that she could, following the line of metal she had found until that line became a patch, which became a square, which became a door. There was something hidden beyond it—she just knew it. Not like a vision or knowing, but on a gut level, she could feel it.

There had to be a handle somewhere. A door didn’t exist for no reason, especially not on an island untouched by anyone other than four siren brothers. Her fingers slid around the edge, the rough edges of metal scraping and pinching as she went. When she finally found it, her breath caught.

Pulling with all her might on the lever she had found, she expected something to happen, but nothing did. Bracing her feet on the dull sliver of metal she had dug out, she pulled again. It gave just a little, but it lit a fire in her. She pulled again and again. Each time the door gave a little more.

The lever gave way, like a damn breaking, little by little at first, and then all at once. She fell flat on her ass, but she didn’t care. Her arms might be jelly tomorrow, but it would be worth it if she found The Surgeon. Swinging the metal door up, she could see that it was built like an old cellar door, two sides opening out, and the lever had been locking them together. She didn’t need both of them open, though. One was enough for her to slip through and begin searching for her prey.

The tunnel beyond the door was dark. She could see that it sloped down fairly sharply, but after a few feet, all visibility ended. Before she went down, she wedged the door open, holding it down with a few rocks. At this point, she highly doubted her arms would be functional the next day.

Pulling up the flashlight app on her phone, she began to descend, slowly at first, but by the time the descent ended, she was jogging down. As she rounded a corner, lights flickered on around her, evidently motion-activated. The floor she had been walking on was packed dirt, but now it was concrete, smooth and hard under her feet. A shiver went down her spine as she remembered the concrete room from when Randall held her captive.

She was in control now, though, and that bastard would get what he deserved one day. She would make sure of that.

The air was dry and almost musty, but there was a slight breeze coming from vents that were positioned every once in a while. The tunnel curved, and she noticed a pathway going off to the side that went back up. Instinctively she knew up would take her further away from her goal, so she pressed on, following the curve of the tunnel.

A second pathway split off to the right, and she followed it. The ground stayed flat under her feet, and as she walked, more lights flickered on, illuminating a door ahead of her.

Her heart jumped in her chest.

If she was going to lock someone in a theoretically unbreakable cage, then she would probably put it underground behind more than just a couple doors, but then, she wasn’t an immortal warrior. The sleek metal door loomed large in front of her, a flat handle the only thing standing between her and what she hoped was on the other side.

Doubt swamped her before she could press the handle. What if she couldn’t take seeing him again? If she flipped out and had one of the panic attacks she had been hiding from everyone? It would make her just as weak as Randall thought she was. That thought above all others drove her forward.

Pushing the door open, she didn’t expect the large room on the other side. The ceiling was much higher for most of the room than the ceiling in the tunnels, coming down lower in the back. Workout equipment covered most of the space. Huge free weights were just on the edge of the mat next to her. On her other side were a series of machines, a few of which she even recognized, although they looked much beefier than any she had used.

Cautiously, she put one foot in front of the other until she saw it. The cage.

It was in the back where the ceiling was lower. The bars actually went up into the surface and down into the cement floor. She could understand why the brothers thought the cage was impregnable. She inched closer, her feet silent on the workout mats that covered the floor.

He was there, up against the back wall of the cage, asleep.

Rage coursed through her. How dare he sleep peacefully? He should be tormented by the memories of what he had done, and not just to her but to those who had come before her. Aster wasn’t naive enough to think that she was the first or the only one he had experimented on. His breaths came slow and steady as she crept around the outside of the cage, silently picking up a jump rope abandoned on the floor.

If he was truly asleep as she suspected, then she would only get one shot at this. Her heart beat in her throat as she secured one end of the jump rope around a bar of the cage. She took the other end and tied a trucker’s hitch knot, making the tightness of the jump rope adjustable. Now came the scary part.

Making a loop over his head, she was ready. All she had to do was get the rope around him. She balanced on one foot, the other raised, ready to push him forward as her hands got the rope in position.

Nudging him with her foot, she was able to get the rope in place before he fully woke up, pulling it tight around his neck.

“What the hell?” he yelled as his hands tore at the rope now securely positioned around his throat.

Turning his head around, he saw her as she finished the last knot. Instinctively he reached for her, which just ended up choking him as she danced out of reach. She sat down on the cold concrete floor at the other end of the cage and waited while he struggled, trying to get the knots undone so he could breathe easier.

It wasn’t going to work.

Eventually he would accept that and they would talk, but for now, she would wait. A smile crossed her face. She knew without a mirror handy that it wasn’t a happy smile. It was one comprised of the grim pleasure of vengeance.

“Whenever you’re ready, I have some questions I would like answers to. Whether I loosen or tighten the rope around your neck depends on your responses.”

He turned to her then, his pitch-black eyes trying to intimidate her. The trouble was, she had known he was a monster before she set foot in there. Taking off the mask of faked emotions didn’t show her anything new.

“I can wait,” she said, watching his anger and hatred toward her rise.

There was nothing he could do to escape the net she had him snared in, and he was going to answer her questions whether he liked it or not.