In the right cell, Skylar is against the bars. Her copper hair is matted and dirty, and her face is pale beneath a constellation of bruises. Blood coats her wrists where she’s been working at her bonds, and a silver collar identical to the other woman’s burns against the skin of her neck. She’s lost weight in just two days, and her cheekbones stand out more sharply than I remember. Her clothes are torn and filthy, and there’s a dark bruise along her jaw that looks like someone’s handprint.
But she’s alive. She’s alive, and she’s looking at me like I’m the answer to every prayer she’s ever whispered.
“Bryan.” My name comes out as a sob, and she reaches through the bars toward me with bloody fingers.
I cross the room in three strides and grab her hand through the iron. Her fingers are ice-cold and slick with blood,and she’s trembling so hard I can feel it in my own bones. The relief that crashes through me nearly takes my legs out from under me, so I brace my free hand against the bars to keep myself upright. Two days of fear and rage and desperate hope come flooding out all at once, and I have to close my eyes for a second just to keep from falling apart.
“I’ve got you,” I manage with my voice rough. “I’ve got you. I’m here.”
“I knew you’d come.” Tears streak down her face and cut tracks through the dirt on her cheeks. “I knew it. Even when Rafe said you wouldn’t, even when he told me you’d already moved on, I knew you’d find me.”
I rest my forehead against the bars because it’s as close to her as I can get with the iron still between us. “I will always come for you, Skylar. Always. Do you understand? There is nowhere they could take you that I wouldn’t follow.”
Connor appears at my shoulder with a set of lockpicks he brought with him. “Move back and let me get this open.”
I release Skylar’s hand reluctantly, and she steps away from the bars while Connor works on the lock. The seconds stretch into an eternity as he manipulates the picks and curses under his breath when the mechanism sticks. Dylan keeps watch at the door with his body coiled and ready for trouble while Caleb hovers near the other woman’s cell and reassures the frightened woman.
Finally, after what feels like hours but is probably only thirty seconds, the cell door swings open with a groan of rusted hinges.
I’m through it before it finishes moving.
Skylar crashes into me, and I catch her against my chest and wrap my arms around her so tightly I’m afraid I might break something. She buries her face in my neck and clings to me with her entire body shaking from sobs she’s probably been holding back for days.
I breathe her in—blood and fear and underneath it all, that honeysuckle scent that means home. My wolf settles for the first time since she was taken, finally at peace now that our mate is back in our arms, where she belongs.
“The collar,” she gasps against my skin. “I can’t reach my wolf. They put silver on me, and I can’t—”
“I know. I’ll get it off.” I pull back just enough to examine the collar around her throat. It’s a thick band of silver locked at the back with some kind of mechanism I don’t recognize. The skin beneath it is red and blistered from days of constant contact, and the sight of it makes something dark and violent stir in my chest.
I reach for the clasp, and the moment my fingers touch the metal, pain sears through my hands like I’ve grabbed a hot iron. I jerk back with a hiss and stare at my palms. The skin is already reddening where I made contact.
“It’s warded,” Skylar says miserably. “I heard the guards talking about it. Only Rafe can remove it, or someone with magic strong enough to break the enchantment.”
Dylan is already working on the other woman’s cell with a second set of picks, but he looks up long enough to reply, “Luna can break it when we get back to Silvercreek.”
I nod and force myself to think past the rage clouding my vision. Luna can fix this. We just have to get Skylar home first.
I take her face in my hands and tilt it up so I can look at her. The bruises are worse up close—a dark purple mark along her jaw, another one high on her cheekbone, and a split in her lower lip that’s only half-healed. Someone hit her. Someone put their hands on my mate and hurt her, and I am going to find them and make them regret every second of their miserable existence.
“Can you walk?” I manage to ask.
“I can walk.” Skylar’s voice is stronger now. Steadier. “But Bryan, listen to me. There’s something you need to know.”
“Tell me while we move.” I take her hand and pull her toward the door, where Connor and Dylan are helping the other woman to her feet.
“It can’t wait.” Skylar digs in her heels and forces me to stop. Her eyes are huge and frightened, but not for herself. “Rafe has explosives planted throughout Silvercreek. He’s going to blow up the town. He said it’s happening in a few hours, maybe less. We have to warn Nic.”
The words take a moment to penetrate. Explosives. Silvercreek. The school.
Skylar squeezes my hand hard enough to hurt, getting my attention. “Bryan, there are children in that school. Fern is at the medical center. We have to get back before—”
“We will.” I pull her close and press a kiss to her forehead, lingering there for just a moment. “We’ll warn them. But first, we have to get out of here. Can you do that? Can you stay with me until we’re clear?”
She presses her lips into a thin line and gives one curt nod. “I can do that.”
“Good.” I turn to the others. “Change of plans. We move fast, and we don’t stop for anything. Nic needs to know about those explosives before Rafe can detonate them.”
“What about the guards between us and the exit?” Connor asks as he wipes blood from his split lip.
