I glare at Kane, who seems unmoved. It’s hard to tell with him wearing a skeleton mask.
Ronan sidles over, his neon-stitchedPurgemask creepy as fuck. “Need some sharing tips? My brothers and I fought a lot over my pixie, but we’re all good now. I recommend reading reverse harem dark romance books. They’re super useful.”
Declan punches him in the gut. He stumbles sideways with a sharpoof. “Careful, bro! If you hurt me, Pixie will hurt you cos I’m her favorite.”
“In your fucking dreams. I’m her favorite because I’m the one taking her to the States to visit Thea when we get home.”
“What? You planned a trip without me?” Ronan gasps. “You’re not taking my pixie anywhere without me!” He glares. “Besides, you need me to protect you from the devil dog.”
Declan opens his mouth to snap back a retort, but a sharp feminine scream cuts through the air from somewhere ahead of us. Muffled gunfire follows, followed by more panicked screams. Then the screaming abruptly ceases.
It sounds as if the first guy’s caught his prey.
“Game on,” Ronan announces gleefully before sprinting away into the murk.
“Spread out but stay within range of the comms,” Declan orders. “If you come across a female, check in. The comms should have enough range to cover the entire estate, but there might be blackspots.”
Declan and Connor head out while Ash follows a path up a sharp incline with the sniper rifle in hand. According to the intel, there’s a viewpoint. Once up there, he can search for stragglers and take them out.
This area is a mix of thick forest and open stretches of moorland. Anyone caught out in the open is fair game for a sniper.
I assume Ronan understands the plan we discussed earlier. It’s hard to say with him. He seems to have his own agenda.
The trail splits a few hundred feet ahead. We’re still hidden by trees, so no chance of being seen yet.
“You go right, and we’ll carry on this way. The minute we locate your wife, we get the fuck out of here.”
I nod. “Yeah. You know what she looks like.” They all have a description of Chiara. Any taller than average, slim woman with dark blonde hair, blue eyes, and a tan is a priority, while any man found with her is dead.
4
Chiara
Several hours previously…
The wind howls outside. It sounds like someone is screaming, or maybe that’s exactly what I can hear. It’s hard to tell down here in the pitch dark.
I was barely conscious when someone shoved me into the back of a van, but by the time we arrived at Castle Dracula, I was very much awake.
No joke, this place really does resemble Castle Dracula, with its gray stone turrets and Gothic aesthetic. Nobody bothered to give me a guided tour, but I’m confident it’s not a five-star hotel.
The English fucker who shot Carlo is nowhere in sight. Perhaps this is his home. It certainly matches his ice-cold personality.
I sit on a rough blanket, shivering in the cold, damp air. It smells musty. There’s a small window, but it’s so high up I can’t see a damn thing, and all I know is that night has fallen. The sound of water dripping squirrels into my brain. A slow torture.
At least there are no rats.
I fucking hate rats.
Thank fuck I’m wearing jeans. Hypothermia would have been in my future if I’d chosen a dress or skirt to wear this morning. Or yesterday. My head still hurts from whatever sedative they shot me up with.
It reminds me of when I woke up all those weeks ago inside Angelo’s mansion. How sad that I remember that moment with fondness instead of anger. At least there I had a comfortable bed and a bathroom. Oh, and it was warm.
There’s no bathroom here. Just a bucket in the corner, which I’m ignoring.
What I can’t ignore is the all-pervasive fear that’s dug its claws into me. I’m trying very hard not to panic, but it’s pretty fucking obvious I’m not in Kansas anymore.
Where even am I? England?
