Roman, his face set in grim determination, was carrying Violet in his arms. Her head lolled against his shoulder, body limp. He moved quickly, purposefully, heading down the south corridor.
The phone nearly cracked in my grip.
“Do any of the other recovered files show where he went after he exited that corridor?” I asked.
“I don’t think so, sir, but I’ll keep looking.”
Shit.
“If anyone asks,” I said, my voice deadly calm. “You didn't see that footage, and the reason behind the deletion was a glitch caused by a brief power surge. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
I ended the call and broke into a run.
My brother had taken my girl. Drugged her, by the look of it, and carried her off to god knows where.
The question waswhy.
Was he planning to hurt her? To punish me through her? To use her as leverage to force me to confess to the Council? Or was this something else entirely? A misguided attempt to ‘fix’ the situation himself, perhaps?
I had no fucking idea. But I was going to figure it out. And if he'd laid one finger on her…
Brother or not, there would be hell to pay.
30
Violet
Cold.
That was the first thing my mind registered as consciousness slowly dragged me back. Cold stone against my back and cold air biting at my skin.
My head throbbed with a dull, persistent ache, and my mouth tasted like cotton and something bitter. I tried to lift my hand to my face, but my arm felt like it weighed a thousand pounds.
My memory came back in jagged fragments. The cake. The cordial. The room tilting. Roman's voice. His face looming over me.
Oh god.
My eyes flew open, and I immediately regretted it as the dim light sent a spike of pain through my skull. I blinked, trying to focus and make sense of where I was.
Stone walls. A low ceiling. A single bronze sconce casting weak light across the room from a candle burned down to a stub. The air smelled damp and old, like earth and decay.
I was sitting with my back against rough stone, my legs stretched out in front of me on a floor that was equally cold andunforgiving. The space was small, maybe ten feet by ten feet, with a heavy iron door set into one wall.
A cell. I was in a fuckingcell.
Panic surged through me, burning away the last of the drug-induced fog. I tried to stand, but my legs wouldn't cooperate. I managed to get to my hands and knees before my arms gave out, and I collapsed back against the wall, breathing hard.
“Easy,” a voice said from the shadows. “The effects take a few minutes to dissipate. But you’ll feel completely fine in an hour.”
I jerked my head up, and there he was. Roman Valcourt, sitting on a wooden stool in the corner, watching me with those unreadable hazel eyes.
Terror crashed over me like a wave. He'd drugged me. Taken me. Brought me here to this… dungeon, or whatever the hell it was supposed to be. And now we were alone together.
I pressed harder against the wall, as if I could somehow push through it and escape, but there was nowhere to go. No way out.
“Careful,” Roman said, lifting a hand. “Don’t move too fast.”
