“Bjorn, be-”
Sebastian gasped as a bloody rock fell from the wound and onto the floor with a thud. The small rock, flat, round and wet with blood, lay on the floor between Bjorn’s feet, the wound on Bjorn’s back already scabbing over. Bjorn stared down at the rock with wide eyes, like he couldn’t believe what had been inside of him, and then he started to sway.
“Bjorn, stay awake!” Sebastian demanded, remembering all too well Viggo telling him about how Bjorn had slept for days the last time he got moonrock removed from his skin. They did not have time for that now.
Bjorn steadied himself against the wall, visibly fighting to stay awake. After a minute of swaying and catching himself, he groaned, sounding like he was in terrible pain, and pushed himself upright.
“What the fuck?” he mumbled, sounding disgruntled and angry and very human.
“What the fuck,” Marge echoed from the cage next to Sebastian. “You mean all we had to do to fix them was cut that thing out of them?”
She sounded furious.
“That’s not how it works,” Bart insisted. “Moonrock-”
“Jesus, Bart, removing it obviously did something, and it wasn’t blowing him up.”
“Shut up a second!” Bjorn growled, putting his hand over his eyes as though the light was killing him. “I just need… give me two seconds.”
No one said a word. Sebastian glanced between Bjorn and the door, feeling tense and incredibly on edge. If someone came in now, it would all be over.
“Shit, Sebastian, are you okay?” Bjorn asked, hand still over his eyes.
“I’m okay.” Sebastian looked around, lowering his voice. “I stole an access card and memorized the pin number.”
Bjorn lowered his hand and looked at him, a strange expression on his face. “You did what?”
The woman in the cell next to him started to laugh.
“It was sticking out of his pocket. I just grabbed it. If you-”
The sound of the metal door opening had Sebastian jumping back from the bars, his heart kicking into overdrive as his two kidnappers came back into sight. Marge stopped laughing with an abruptness like she’d been shot.
“I had it right there,” Sebastian’s kidnapper said, pointing toward the door of Sebastian’s cell and making his stomach clench. “At least I think I did. Which one of us opened the door to his cell?”
The biker frowned. “I don’t remember. I walked in first, so it could have been me.”
Sebastian held his breath, furious with himself for being so slow. If he’d let Bjorn and Viggo and the other werewolves out as soon as possible, they could have overpowered the two kidnappers with ease.
“I know for a fact I had it outside.” The black-clad man looked at the floor, searching. “Fuck, Henry is going to kill me if I lose another key.”
“Are you sure?” the biker asked, the two of them walking down the corridor toward Sebastian. They stopped outside his cell, looking at the floor and acting like Sebastian and everyone else locked up behind the bars of their cells were invisible. “I was the one who opened the gate, and I’m sure I opened that door.” He pointed back at the door they’d just come through. “And I think I was the one to unlock the cell. When was the last time you’re sure you had it?”
Sebastian wondered if the constant use of the access cards meant that using them had become so rote and ingrained that the two assholes didn’t even register doing it half the time. If so, it was Sebastian’s lucky day.
“Wasn’t I the one to open the door from outside?”
The biker shrugged. “Then why was I first?”
Sebastian felt lightheaded, trying not to look suspicious and panicking that his kidnapper would realize what had happened any second. He waited for the man in black to correct the biker, telling him that he’d come in after him and Sebastian and then gone ahead of them, but the correction didn’t come.
“I guess you’re right. Shit, it’s probably at home on my nightstand.” The man in black turned to the biker. “Let’s go. Don’t tell Henry about this, though.”
“I won’t,” the biker said with a laugh. He turned to Viggo, looking at him for a second and frowning. “What’s up with him? Two minutes ago, he was going crazy and now he’s all calm.”
Viggo growled, baring his teeth in warning.
“Who knows? The little slut probably convinced him to calm down before he hurt himself. Why do you care?” the black-clad man asked.
