Crimson Mist

by Rachel Jonas

  I should have guessed who was behind this. Roman and Jon Carlisle, yes, but I certainly didn’t expect to lay eyes on the mad scientist this evening.

  Was it even evening still?

  How long had I been here?

  I did my best to gather enough strength to break free, but it was useless. Whatever I’d been given suppressed it all.

  The three masterminds stared down on me like some kind of science experiment. I suppose, in Dr. Percival eyes at least, that’s exactly what I was.

  His expression, in particular, was unsettling. Perhaps it was the deep intrigue within his gaze. It only confirmed his rumored obsession with oddities among the Ianite race.

  And, as far as such oddities went, I was practically the cream of the crop.

  He trailed a finger slowly down my arm. “Fascinating,” he crooned to himself.

  “Don’t touch me!”

  My protest went ignored as he adjusted an I.V. that had been placed in my vein while I was unconscious.

  I nearly asked why I was here, but I already knew the answer to that question. They captured me because, in their eyes, I needed to be taught a lesson. And as Jon Carlisle moved in, wearing a particularly sinister grin, I knew he took great delight in this moment.

  He had his eye on me since the very beginning, for no other reason than wanting to unravel what had proven to be the Dynasty’s greatest mystery, its greatest scandal.

  My head tilted as far as I could maneuver it when a distant sound caught my attention. Even with my impeccable hearing it seemed far away, on a different level maybe.

  It took a moment to match the noise with my memory, due to the unknown substance coursing through my veins. But it was … a buzz saw?

  I was only uncertain for a moment, because the next sound that filled my senses was that of a blood-curdling, male scream.

  Instantly, panic took over and I suddenly felt desperate. Not even fear of what this trio would do to me brought it on, but fear of who else they had here, wondering if that scream … had just come from someone I love.

  “Who else is here?” I eeked out, hearing the obvious tremble of fear in my throat.

  No one answered, and my nerves were even more on edge.

  “We’re stepping out for a bit, dear,” Dr. Percival said all too calmly. “I’d tell you to relax, but I’m afraid our old friend the Butcher won’t likely be keeping the noise down.”

  A sick smile curved his mouth and I pulled my wrists again, trying in vain to break free.

  “What do you want from me?” I pleaded, only to be ignored once again.

  “Rest up,” he added, and then gave a nod for Jon and Roman to follow him out of the room.

  I had one shot to reason with someone and the one I’d seen possess the most humanity was Roman. He’s coldhearted, hateful and loathsome, but I knew for a fact I hadn’t mistaken his love for the princes. I’d seen it with my own two eyes, and it was real. Just like theirs for him was real.

  “Roman, wait!”

  The others didn’t even turn their heads when I called out, but his steps halted.

  A flicker of hope filled me, although I knew it was a small victory.

  “Please, Roman,” I rushed to say. “Please, tell me who else they have here. I’ll do whatever you want, just … don’t hurt anyone.”

  In the breadth of silence that came next, I imagined my teammates in that monster’s grasp—Fe, Liv, Shay, Banks, O.C., all of them. If anything happened to any of them, I was sure the heartbreak would kill me. Immortal or not. That was a pain I couldn’t live with.

  He stood over me, the chill of hatred residing in his eyes.

  “You’re in no position to ask me, of all people, for favors.”

  Despite not needing air to survive, I was panting with desperation.

  “I know you hate me. I know you blame me for losing your Dynasty Brothers, but you have to know this isn’t right.”

  Never in a million years did I imagine I’d be trying with everything in me to appeal to Roman for mercy, but it’d come to that. For whoever was being tortured in that other room.

  He came closer—callous, with both hands tucked inside the pockets of his dark slacks—and I half expected him to do something cruel, or simply leave me to suffer. But, apparently, I said something that struck a nerve. It was obvious by the fury that suddenly filled his expression.

  “Is that really what you think this is about? You thought I’d go to the trouble of risking my life by capturing and delivering you here, because my feelings are hurt my brothers chose you over me?”

  I wasn’t exactly sure how to answer that, because this was what I believed. Yes, he hated that I was human all along, believed I wasn’t good enough for his brothers because I wasn’t one of them, but I’d given him no other reason to target me.

  My brow tensed and I couldn’t think of what to say next. I was at a loss for words, out of ways to appeal to him because I now believed I might have missed something.

  “The Dorchester Compound,” he forced out through gritted teeth. “Were you there the night of the siege that took place a year ago?”

  It was a strange question to be asked, but I knew better than to make waves. After all, he was my only lifeline, the only hope I had to save the one in the Butcher’s grasp.

  My brow tensed while I thought back. There had been many missions since then.

  “Yes,” I finally answered once I was sure. “I was there. I’d gone in with a small team to rescue a large group of donors.”

  This wasn’t something I’d admit under any other circumstances.

  “Steal,” he said coarsely. “You went in to steal a large group of donors.”

  Now was not the time to argue about the difference in how his people and mine saw things, so I laid there in silence.

  Deep in thought, he began to circle me, not speaking for so long my anxiety shot through the roof.

  “What’s interesting is that you’ve never made the connection,” he stated.

  “What connection?” I dared to ask.

  His silver glare settled on me and I hated being so vulnerable. “There were soldiers who caught wind of what you were planning, and a crew of volunteers went in to try and finally put an end to your reign of terror, only to discover too late that you were on to them,” he accused, peering down at me. “This small team you mention had arrived early, took the donors to safety, and then blew the entire facility to kingdom come with every single volunteer inside.”

  His anger brimmed over. I could practically feel it, like it was alive in that very room.

  I still had his attention, but my thoughts were elsewhere, recalling the details of that particular mission.

  “Your sister was there?” I asked.

  The question only angered him, but I needed an answer.

  “She was brave and laid her life on the line for the Dynasty,” he declared, giving as much of an answer as I guessed I’d get out of him.

  An incredulous laugh slipped from my lips and it didn’t sit well with him for obvious reasons, but there was so much he didn’t understand about that night. And with his anger raging on this night, I couldn’t be sure he’d hear me out. After all, I had every reason to lie.

  My life—and possibly the lives of my team—was on the line.

  “The government, your government,” I amended, “has been known to twist information to suit their own agendas. There was a team of soldiers there that night, but … I think you’ve been lied to about how things really went down at Dorchester.”

  His eyes darted to the doorway where Ian and Jon exited a short time ago, and then his gaze landed on me.

  “Explain,” he grumbled.

  Anxiety flared within me again, knowing he wouldn’t like what I had to say.

  “Well, to start, you misunderstood something I said earlier. I said I worked with a small team to rescue the donors that night, but you assumed I meant some of the faction’s human counterparts, but, Roman … the small group I me
ntioned, and the group of volunteers who your people believe came after us … were one in the same.”

  Confusion filled his expression first, and then disgust when he understood what I’d just explained.

  “If you’re implying that my sister was a traitor, and was actually there to help you that night, you’ve clearly got a death wish,” he seethed. “Regina was no sympathizer.”

  I didn’t know the names of any of the soldiers there that night, but had seen their faces. Three among them were women, and I now knew one of those women was Regina Fairchild—the only royal who managed to stay out of the limelight.

  A sudden surge of rage filled Roman. I saw my life flash before me when he darted for a scalpel on a nearby surgical tray and lunged forward. He stopped with the blade a breath away from my eye, holding it there while he panted with pure hatred swimming in his gaze.

  “My sister is dead,” he growled. “She died a hero, serving our great Dynasty.”

  I peered up at him, watching as he struggled to wrangle in his anger.

  “Roman,” I said with a shaky breath. “I know this is hard to hear, but I’m in no position to lie to you.”

  The air between us was thick, loaded. It was like sitting on a keg of gunpowder with a lit match.

  “And I’m not denying that she’s a hero,” I corrected cautiously. “ … But I think you might be mistaken about whose hero she was.”

  I waited with bated breath, hoping that speaking the truth softly made a difference, because it was still not the truth he’d been led to believe.

  There was another bomb to drop on him, but I feared it might be too much to take in all at once.

  “I have to tell you something else,” I forced out, “but you have to move the scalpel first.”

  Heat from his breath moved over my skin while he considered it. I was close enough to witness the moment when his resolve to kill me broke. It was only snuffed out by his desire to know more.

  “Speak,” he grumbled, taking a couple steps back. Still, he stayed close enough that he could be on me again in a matter of seconds if he saw fit.

  Swallowing hard, I wet my lips and made myself look him in the eyes. “You should know that … the soldiers who intervened that night aren’t … dead.”

  I braced myself for his wrath, the heavy fist I expected to pummel me, the sharp scalpel slicing through my flesh.

  But the only reaction I got was the dazed look in his eyes. Like, he was present but wasn’t.

  So, I finished explaining as best as I could.

  “There was an explosion at the compound that night, but the soldiers weren’t inside,” I shared. “When the government realized what happened, when it came to the light that there were sympathizers right under their noses, in uniform no less, they had to do damage control before word got out.”

  Roman’s eyes snap to mine. “But Ianites were killed that night. The entire staff.”

  I nod reluctantly, letting that sink in. “They were,” I agreed, “but I guess the powers that be thought it best to sacrifice those workers to cover their lie. They’d seen us that night, saw the soldiers moving donors out of that building. If they were left alive, they would’ve brought the truth to light. And … I suppose Emperor Westower and Dr. Percival couldn’t let that happen.”

  It was hard to tell whether he was more shocked than mad, or whether he believed me at all. He reached for a chair that’d been near the gurney where I was held, and lowered into it.

  Defeated.

  He looked defeated.

  “Those soldiers knew they had to disappear after that, or else the government under which they served would have turned on them, just like it did those workers. So, when the boat arrived for the donors, they boarded with them,” I explained. “No, they didn’t die in the physical sense that night, but they suffered a great loss. There was no option to reach out to their loved ones. The only choice was to move forward and never look back.”

  His gaze wandered across the floor, not seeming to focus on anything in particular, but I still had no idea what he was thinking.

  This was one of many instances where the Dynasty had acted in their own self-interest when it came to their own people. This wasn’t the time to run down the list, but Roman wasn’t alone. There were ten other families out there believing their brave loved ones had died by my faction’s hand that night. When, in reality, their lives were stripped from them because they had no choice.

  “Where is she?”

  “I can’t disclose the location for the sake of others, but I assure you, Roman, help me and I’ll find a way to reunite you.”

  This promise was far from empty, but he had no reason to believe me.

  His deep stare gave nothing away, so I waited in suspense. The hint of softness I saw suddenly burned away, and he went cold again.

  “Since the first day our paths crossed you’ve proven time and time again what a good liar you are,” he hissed. “I will not be made a fool of by you again.”

  My heart sank when he started toward the door. A sense of defeat filled me to the brim and, on cue, as if to emphasize this epic fail, another pained scream came from that room.

  A tear slipped from my eye and landed on the cool steel beneath me.

  “If I die, the chance of seeing your sister again dies with me,” were the last words exchanged between us.

  His steps slowed to a stop, but this time he didn’t turn. Jon had gotten too deep inside his head.

  With the hiss of the glass, air-lock door, the room went dark, sealing me in with the monsters. As they cried out for flesh, I was overwhelmed with the sense of knowing how this would end for me.

  Painfully.

  Chapter Thirty

  Aaric

  “And your source is reliable?”

  “Yes!” Paige shouted. “I wouldn’t have come to you if it wasn’t.”

  She watched as I paced near the window. It’s all I’d done for nearly two days now.

  Yesterday was spent scouring the entire quadrant with the princes, all to come up empty handed. Paige’s intel was the first solid lead we had so far, but it was perhaps the most devastating update she could have given.

  Storming out of my bedroom, I trudged down the steps and met the others in the parlor where they convened with Elle and the rest of Corina’s team. They’d been posted here since we reached out the night of the event. If there was one thing to gather from everyone in this room, it’s that Corina was loved.

  The sound of me clearing my throat quieted the chatter and earned me everyone’s attention.

  “I have news and you’re not going to like what I have to say.”

  As soon as the words left my mouth, the princes were on their feet, wearing their concern for our mate on their faces.

  “Paige just informed me that, when she put her feelers out for information, one of her sources expressed concern that a large shipment of … ‘supplies’ were sent to the Butcher’s funhouse.” I hated using that term, but it was the one most widely recognized for his torture chamber.

  “Ok, that’s a start,” Felix chimed in. “Did this source also say where this elusive funhouse can be found? It’s been one of the Dynasty’s best kept secrets for decades. Maybe more than a century.”

  Defeat set in on the faces in the room quickly when Felix pointed out the obvious.

  I glanced toward Paige and she stepped up to take over.

  “It’s a pretty broad array, but I have a range of coordinates,” she shared, and a glimmer of hope returned. “We’ll have to cast a wide net, and I won’t stop anyone from joining the search, but … it would be negligent of me not to warn the vulnerable among us not to proceed with caution. If you believe you’ve found something, radio it in. Aaric and the princes should be made aware of any leads.”

  “Actually,” Julian interjected, “We should be the only ones to go in after her. So, once we’re alerted, I’m requesting that anyone other than us fall back for their own safety.”

  I
t was a tall order, considering her team was just as invested in bringing her home as we were, but one whiff of a human on the premises and the Butcher would eat them alive.

  Literally.

  “He’s right,” Liv said, backing me up. “We’ll aid in the search, but we retreat once we pinpoint her location.”

  The others were reluctant to agree, but eventually nodded.

  We officially had the loose makings of a plan, one that would become solid within the next hour or so. But we wouldn’t take longer than that. Corina was out there, in danger, and we wouldn’t stop until we brought her back home.

  ***

  Corina

  With a hundred or more missions under my belt, I’d endured so much. My body had been put through things the average person wouldn’t survive, but even with the memories of all those experiences still fresh in my thoughts … none compared to this.

  I’d grown tired of the sound of my own scream. The sheer terror within it, the agony, even when I’d grown hoarse long ago.

  One eye swelled shut almost immediately, with the last blow I’d taken from the Butcher. What little I could still see was tinted in red.

  My hair swung beneath me as I dangled upside-down in the middle of the room by both ankles. The gown I’d worn had gotten in the way, during one of Dr. Percival’s experiments, so I’d been left naked and vulnerable, waiting for the next round of torture the four could come up with. Roman and Jon mostly observed, but the others had more than their share of fun, pushing me to the brink, where I wished for death, only to let me heal and start again.

  I’d awaken with the only evidence of their brutality being the blood that dried in my hair and on my skin. But today, it seemed as though they had other plans.

  A cart was wheeled into the room while I stared at the inverted image. On top, a narrow, silver tank, and on the bottom, a large tub of ice.

  I studied the objects, still woozy from the constant flow of whatever I’d been continually poisoned with through the I.V. But I realized suddenly that this tank was, in fact … a blowtorch.

  My body was exhausted, matching my emotional and mental state. I could barely groan with the acknowledgement of what they had planned next.