Callista hadn’t just taken her. She’d buried her—hidden her away like some dirty secret.
“She picked that place on purpose,” I said, jaw clenched so hard I could taste copper. “Isolated. Forgotten. No cameras. No witnesses.”
Lu nodded, confirming what I already knew.
“She’s trying to disappear her,” I growled. “Erase her.”
Scar stood up sharply, cracking his knuckles like he was ready to take down a wall. “Then let’s make sure she never gets the chance.”
I looked around at all of them—my team, my brothers. Their faces were set, cold and ready. Good. Because I wasn’t walking into this quiet. I wasn’t walking in like a man.
I was walking in like a god of fucking war.
“Gideon,” I said, voice razor sharp. “Call in the rest of the team. Lock down cells. We go dark.”
He nodded. “What’s the play?”
“We don’t wait. We don’t ask. We take her back.” I looked them each in the eye. “No one touches what’s mine.”
Lu stepped forward. “I’ll get us close without being seen.”
“Then move.”
The fury in me burned clean now—no chaos, no panic. Just a singular, violent promise.
I was coming.
And the world would burn before I left without her.
Chapter 29
Seph
I woke with a gasp, my whole body jerking against cold, unforgiving metal. Pain bloomed instantly—sharp and hot where my wrists were bound to the chair. The pressure made me wince, and when I tried to move, the restraints dug deeper, biting into my skin like they had a personal vendetta.
My head throbbed. Every heartbeat slammed behind my eyes, blurring the edges of the room as I forced them open. The air was thick, heavy with rust, gasoline, and something moldy. It curled in my throat, made me want to gag.
The space was dim, broken only by slivers of light bleeding through cracks in the boarded windows. Peeling paint flaked from the walls, and the floor was a mess of dirt, broken glass, and dried-out footprints. Everything screamed abandoned. Everything screamed wrong.
And then I heard her.
Footsteps. Light. Measured. Familiar.
“Persephone?” Callista’s voice sliced through the dark like a knife. Cool. Controlled. Too calm.
“Callista?” My voice cracked from dryness and disbelief. “What the hell is going on? Why am I tied up?!”
I heard her before I saw her. The rhythm of her pacing was uneven. She was nervous. Good. She should be.
“Keep your voice down,” she hissed. “They’ll hear you.”
“Who?!” I fought against the restraints again, the chair screeching against the floor. “What are you talking about?”
Silence answered me first—thick, suffocating. Then she stepped into view.
Her face was pale, her lips tight, eyes too bright. I’d seen her like this before—right before she ran. Right before she abandoned me.
“I didn’t want it to go like this,” she whispered.
