With his eyes now used to the dim light, he looked around and confirmed, yep, former office, including an old, battered metal desk shoved in one corner.
And no cameras. None he could spot, anyway.
It was a trap.
Not only had he walked right into it, he did the exact things he would have chewed Dewi—or any other Enforcer—a new asshole for doing.
Well, at least it was him and not one of the others. He was a Prime and had a distinct advantage.
With another breath he sniffed and only smelled humans, no wolves or other shifters.
First things first.
Taking his time and being careful not to make any noise, he stood and stretched, his spine and other joints creaking and popping as he did. He could easily shift and free himself, then shift back, but that might cause him more problems.
Slowly shuffling over to the door, he pressed his ear against it and listened. From the sounds of the voices and from the various scents he picked up, he guessed there were at least four men.
None of them spoke English. Meaning the Cyrillic writing on the papers hanging on for dear life to the corkboard was likely Russian, too.
Still moving slowly, he knelt next to the door and lay his head on the floor so he could peek under.
It appeared to be a large barn or old warehouse building. Four men sat around a card table, drinking and playing a game, all of them wearing sidearms and with long guns on the floor around them. At least ten bedrolls were scattered nearby, along with tactical backpacks and other gear. While he couldn’t see any windows, part of a skylight in the tall ceiling was visible, and it looked dark outside.
The men jumped up at the sound of an approaching vehicle with a diesel engine, likely a truck. Peyton watched one man grab a rifle and head out of his sight, the other three standing with their hands on their sidearms, waiting.
A moment later, muffled laughter outside, and then the man returned carrying a large paper grocery bag and followed by another man.
Food.
They set the food on the table, and the new arrival spoke to the others before glancing toward the door.
Peyton fought the urge to flinch as the man asked a question of the others and received a response.
While no linguist, Peyton felt increasingly certain the men were speaking Russian.
When the new arrival picked up a can of soda and a wrapped item the size and shape of a burger and headed toward Peyton’s room, by the time the man slid open what sounded like four barrel bolts on the outside of the door, Peyton had returned to his previous position, eyes closed and pretending he was still unconscious.
He sensed the man standing there. “You. Food,” he said in thickly accented English.
Peyton didn’t react. But the door was open, and the other men could see into it from their current vantage point.
He heard the man step inside the room and then the sound of him setting the can and sandwich down near the door. “Food,” the man said louder. “Eat.”
One of the other men called out to this man in Russian. The man answered, pausing, standing there.
Finally, he walked over, and Peyton somehow managed not to react when he felt the toe of a tactical boot roughly nudge him in the ass. Now he smelled the man, and he was not only human, he was definitely one of the men who’d abducted him because he could smell himself on the man’s clothes. Perhaps one of the men who loaded him into the helicopter.
The man called out something else to his compatriots, left, and locked the door behind him.
Peyton waited at least a minute before sitting up again, his stomach now growling over the smell of what surely was a hamburger.
But he had no idea if the sandwich was drugged or not, and if he popped open the can of soda, it might be heard by the men.
At least the interaction likely answered the question of whether or not there was a camera observing him. They’d have already known he was awake. The fact that the man was willing to touch him made Peyton suspect they had absolutely no clue what he was capable of.
Who knew if they even realized he was a shifter, much less a Prime?
Ignoring the burger’s tempting aroma, Peyton returned to his vantage by the door and stared at the men. He had no phone, not even a watch to know what time it was. And as he knelt there, he realized he had another pressing issue, and if he didn’t want to give away the fact that he was awake, he’d need to deal with it.
