He tested his restraints, but they didn’t give. “Phee,” he whispered. “Are you hurt?”
“I don’t think so, but you’re bleeding.”
“I know.” He tried to look around. “Where in the bloody hell are we?”
I glanced around at the dim space. Low ceilings were lined with sweating pipes, and walls of old brick were stained with age. The floor was cracked concrete, sloping toward a drain in the center. There was a single heavy door at the far end but no windows.
Candles—dozens of them, maybe hundreds—covered every surface. They sat on shelves, ledges, and were clustered on the floor. A St. Andrew’s cross with cracked leather straps and a padded bench, worn and abandoned, sat against the wall, and chains were coiled on the floor.
“That door is the only exit I can see.”
“Same,” Oliver said. “The spotter on the observation deck must’ve realized we planned to leave, then followed as we made our way to the exit.”
We’d been outhunted. Outmaneuvered. And now, we were trapped.
Fabric shifted from the far corner of the room, then a man rose and crossed into the candlelight.
He was tall and lean, with dark hair and a face that might have been handsome years ago. He carried the stillness of someone who never wasted motion, and his eyes burned with an intensity that made my skin crawl.
The gun in his right hand was aimed at Oliver’s chest.
“Good,” he said. “You’re awake.”
“Who the fuck are you?” Oliver asked.
The man smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
“I’ve been watching you for weeks.” He crossed to stand before us, just out of reach. “You’re my master’s newest acquisitions.”
My stomach roiled, and I thought I might be sick.
“Wondering why he sent you away so abruptly?” The smile widened. “That was my doing.” His tone was almost tender. “I documented everything, then warned him to get rid of you, or I’d destroy you and him.”
It was as we’d both guessed somewhere deep beneath our insecurities. He’d sent us away to protect us.
“I’ve been waiting all this time for him to care about someone again,” the man continued. “Then you two walked into his life, and I knew my patience had finally paid off.”
“What do you want?” Oliver asked.
“I want him to suffer.” The tenderness curdled. “I want him to know what it feels like to lose everything. And I want you to understand exactly what kind of man you gave yourselves to.”
He took a mobile from his pocket, punched something on the screen, then set it aside.
“Now that he knows I have you, he’ll come. He won’t be able to help himself.”
“If you’re trying to hurt him through us—” I started.
“I’mtryingto destroy him.” He dropped into a chair with the gun resting on his knee. “And when he arrives, I’m going to tell you both who he really is and what he did.”
His gaze drank in our fear.
“Like you. I was Kiernan’s once,” he sneered. “Before he decided I wasn’t worth keeping.
20
KIERNAN
The library had become a command center. Laptops were open on every surface, secure lines were established, and the fire burned low because none of us had thought to tend it. We’d been at this for hours but were no closer to figuring out who’d sent the photos.
