Anyway, he had a guess about where it was going anyway, and if that was the case, he could have found it in his sleep.
He just didn't want to. He would rather have died than go back to that place again.
Now he swam that direction with no hesitation. If Mira was there, he would go through a thousand circles of Hell to find her.
And Hell was exactly what he was heading back into. A Hell he had once escaped from. A Hell that had nearly destroyed him—and now he was about to walk back into it voluntarily, and give it a chance to destroy him again.
MIRA
Mira could tellby the change in the pitch of the helicopter's rotors, and then by the sinking feeling in her stomach, when it began to descend.
She was seated in the helicopter's large cargo bay, with one wrist handcuffed to the arm of her fold-down jump seat. There were rows of similar seats on both sides, and all of them were filled with stone-faced, unsmiling mercenaries in black tactical gear.
There was just one small window, and when Mira stretched to the extent of her handcuffs, she was able to see out. She had been glancing out the window occasionally while they flew, and all she could see was darkness. Now, however, the night had begun to lighten toward dawn. Everything was still painted in shades of gray, but they were approaching a forbidding island that seemed to be made entirely of rock. There was some sort of structure built on it. From the air, it looked like a fortress, and as they flew closer, Mira decided that was exactly what it was—a concrete fortress built directly on the bare rock. Sheer concrete walls plunged all the way to the white line of thrashing waves. The fortress was nearly dark, but a few lights gleamed through the early morning twilight. Some of them lit up a helipad.
Mira settled back in her seat as they landed.
So far, despite her captor's claims, no one had asked her any questions at all. She had been hustled into the helicopter and handcuffed in place, and then everyone else had climbed back on and they'd taken off.
Dane wasn't here, so they must not have found him. If they had even been looking for him. What if this was all a terrible mistake?
She tried that tactic as the big mercenary who had captured her uncuffed her. "I think there's been a mistake. I'm a U.S. citizen, and I want to talk to a lawyer."
There was no answer. The mercenary firmly, though not painfully, pulled her hands behind her back and cuffed them in place. He was dressed now, identical to the others, but she couldn't stop thinking about the bear collapsing into a naked human shape.
"Were you really a bear earlier?" she asked. "Can anyone else here change shape?"
A slab-faced woman, as big and bulky as any of the men, said gruffly, "We all can, sister."
"Don't talk to her," snapped someone else.
The bear mercenary gave his head a quick shake. "Be quiet," he said.
It sounded almost more like a warning than a threat. So far, he had been brusque with her, but not cruel or rough. She closed her mouth and decided to see what happened next.
Dane, what do these people want with you?
She could only hope that Dane had gotten away. She was now more sure than ever that he had somehow hidden himself on the island and escaped their notice.
Strangely, she didn't feel completely alone. Somehow it seemed to her as if Dane wasn't too far away, even though he couldn't possibly be. He had been left behind on the island, and it was likely that he would never know what had happened to her.
And yet, she had the oddest sense that he was somehow near.
As she was led from the helicopter, she kept looking at the expressionless faces of the mercenaries marching onto the landing pad along with her. There was a wildness to them. They weren't at all like Dane, but in some strange way, they did remind her of him, just a little.
These are the people he escaped from.She had no doubt about that.
A cold sea wind whipped at her body, and she wished she had been able to take the time to put on a jacket. No one offered her one. Instead, she was taken directly from the landing pad to a steel door that opened into a hallway.
"You guys really need some interior decorators," Mira remarked, looking around at the blank gray walls. She tried to keep her voice light and flippant, but her heart sank with every unadorned corridor they walked down and utilitarian flight of stairs they climbed.
"Quiet," her guard told her.
She expected to be taken to a dismal cell or a barren interrogation room, but instead, to her surprise, their walk ended in a room that looked like it belonged in a nice hotel.
Mira felt her feet sink into plush carpet. There was a large bed, a desk and chair, and a window looking out on the sea, which glittered under the rising sun. Another door stood half-open, showing her a normal-looking bathroom.
"Turn around," her guard told her. When she did, he unlocked her handcuffs.
