My stomach sank and I nodded. While I was concerned about Sage and our unborn child, I was also worried about Dexter. He took so much on board and was so hard on himself, I could only imagine what was going through his mind. “My poor omega,” I said, not really intending to let the words slip out.
The Alpha’s mate gave me a commiserating smile. “It’s going to be okay,” he told me as I reached for the door handle.
We entered the room in the middle of what sounded like a debate, but all sound cut off as Dexter shot out of his chair with a wordless cry and launched himself at me. I barely got a look at his drawn features and the dark circles under his eyes before his face was tucked into the crook of my neck and his trembling frame was pressed so closely against mine, it was almost as if he was attempting to merge our bodies into one.
“I’m so sorry, dear-heart,” I spoke quietly into his ear, heedless of our audience. “I should have been here. I should never have left without you. Either of you.”
“It’s not your fault,” Dexter’s reply was muffled against my skin, but I understood them anyway. “It’s mine. I shouldn’t have let him storm off. I should have—”
“No,” I interrupted him. “He’s a grown man, too. And he was upset. You both were. I should have been here.”
“You can play the blame game later,” Eric cut in, interrupting the soft, circling argument. “For now, we have some ideas we want to run by you on how to get Sage back home quickly and safely.”
“And legally,” Beck added with a tired sigh. “We don’t want to incite another species-ending war with humans if we can help it.”
The Magic agreed, but for the first time in my life, I wanted to ignore it.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Being left alone to rot in a small cage where I couldn’t bring any of my dragon to the surface was a special kind of torture. It was psychological as well as metaphysical. My captors…jailers? Whatever. The guys who had locked me up brought unappetizing food to me twice a day and otherwise left me completely alone. By the end of the second day, I almost begged for one of them to stay, even just to taunt and mock me. That’s how desperate I was for any kind of contact with the outside world.
From the tiny window, no larger than a brick, above my head, distant city sounds filtered in. The whoosh of cars on far-away roads, horns occasionally honking faintly at each other, was the only thing that reminded me of where I was. I clung to those sounds, to the knowledge that I was still alive, still in the city even if on the outskirts.
Other than that, my cell was quiet and still.
My stomach hadn’t stopped churning since I was thrown inside, and I wished I could allay my own anxiety. Brandt had tried to reassure me on the phone that he and Eric would rescueme quickly…but as soon as I’d hung up and handed the guard back the phone, reality had come crashing down on me.
‘Quickly’ could mean anything in dragon years. After all, a year to us was barely a day in human terms. Sure, time passed at the same speed, but when your kind lived a thousand years, one year was hardly a blip on the timeline.
But two days into my incarceration and I was already an emotional wreck. The slop-masquerading-as-food that I was given turned my stomach even more, sending me scrambling to hurl into the toilet bowl. On top of that, tears of embarrassment and helplessness streaked my cheeks, my inability to control my own body frustrating me beyond measure. And then being so upset and not able to eat was leaving me physically drained, too.
By the time the sun rose on the third day stuck in my cell, I felt thoroughly broken. I smelled disgusting, not having access to clean clothes or even a shower, and my heart ached for my family and my mates. I hoped Dex was okay: he wasn’t really close to anyone else in Shifters Sanctuary, and with Serge in Europe, I worried about how he was coping with me being gone. I really hoped Brandt and Eric were being kind to him, at least. I might strangle them if they weren’t.
“Get up,” a voice snapped, startling me out of my musings. I jumped a little on the cot, already unused to hearing other voices. Even when they dropped food off, my guards barely grunted at me. “You’ve got a visitor.”
I practically fell out of the uncomfortable bed and scrambled to my feet. “A visitor?” my throat was dry and a bit scratchy, probably from all the vomiting and crying and not yet from disuse.
A tall man in an expensive-looking gray suit stepped into view from behind my guard. His dark eyes roamed over the cage with distaste…or was that me he was sneering at?
He gave me a small but gentle smile, then turned back to my captor. “You can leave us now,” he drawled dismissively. “Mister Weldman has the right to attorney-client privilege during this meeting.” He glanced towards the ceiling. “No cameras?”
The guard rolled his eyes. “Only way in or out is through that door,” he jerked his head towards the end of the hallway, “so we’ve got cameras down there and not on the cells.”
The lawyer —because that’s who I understood him to be, now— squinted at the…cop? (I still wasn’t sure who the men in black suits were.) “Do you visit regularly to ensure his wellbeing, seeing as you’re not monitoring him?”
The guard scoffed. “If he does something to hurt himself, that’ll be doing us all a favor.”
My lawyer snarled. “Charming.” He shook his head. “I’ll be sure to note that in our case against the State.”
“What case?” the guard laughed, but the sound was more derisive than joyful. He waved his hand in the air, already turning for the door. “Nah, save your breath. If you think he’s getting out of these charges with all the evidence against him, you’re delusional.”
The man in the gray suit tilted his head back, staring the guard down arrogantly and in silence until the door at the end of the hall was closed. Only then did he turn back to face me, stepping up to the bars of my cell, once again looking them over with a curled lip.
“These conditions are barbaric,” he muttered before extending his hand through the bars. “Warwick Barnes. Your brothers hired me as your attorney.”
I shook his hand quickly, not wanting to get my grime all over him. “I’d say it’s a pleasure to meet you, but…”
“Under these circumstances, not so much,” he acknowledged. “I get it.”
