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“I called Hawke, and she showed up,” Lachlan said in way of explanation, still pocketing his cell.

Lyric’s had a small crack in the screen, but nothing else was out of place.

“Hawke is with your sister,” Olivia said, not even bothering to look in my direction. Avi’s bodyguard had come quickly, I’d give her that, and there would be no one more ruthless about Avianna’s safety than Hawthorne. He saw her as an extension of the crown he was unwaveringly loyal to.

“There’s too much blood,” Benedict muttered, moving to Ransom’s other side. It would take at least two of us to wend him back once he’d taken enough from Olivia.

The blood. I couldn’t scent anything but that thick, disorienting—

Pffft! A battery-operated deodorizer sent another blast of the chemical into the air. There was something horrifyingly familiar about that scent. It danced at the edges of my memories, tantalizing me with yet another key to this puzzle.

“There. He’s fed enough to move him,” Olivia announced.

I yanked the atomizer off the wall, and we wended straight into Gabriel’s infirmary where the surgeon already waited, Julian at his side.

“The queen…” Julian’s gaze darted from Lachlan and Benedict—who were hefting Ransom onto the gurney—and mine. “Oh, no.”

“She’s missing.” The words barely escaped the vise of my throat.

“My lord?” Julian paled as Gabriel and his nurses launched into action, ushering us into the hallway. The glass doors swung shut behind us, and his gaze narrowed on the atomizer. “Where did you get that?”

“At the library,” I answered, handing him the little machine. “I think it masked Lyric and Ransom’s scents because I can’t get a trace on her.”

He lifted it to his nose, and his pupils dilated slightly. “It can’t be…”

“Can’t be what?” Lachlan prompted in a low growl.

“It’s impossible,” Julian muttered to himself, then glanced up at us. “It’s been centuries. I need to be sure. Can I borrow this?”

I nodded, knowing if anyone had a chance of identifying that chemical, it was Julian. Or was it a chemical? There was something herbal in there, too.

“I’ll find you as soon as I’m certain.” Julian walked off without another word, turning left at the fork in the tunnels to head to the archive.

The three of us stood at the glass, watching Gabriel do his best to save our wounded brother, who also happened to be the only person in the world who might be able to tell us just who had taken my mate.

“He’s out of the woods,” Lachlan announced as he walked into the war room six hours later.

“Thank God,” Benedict sagged in relief.

My own shoulders relaxed the barest of inches. Ransom would make it. It had been touch and go there for an hour or two as we’d stared through the operating doors, but he was a tough fucker.

Eight. Fucking. Hours. That was how long my wife—my mate—had been in enemy hands. She was still alive. That bond between us was faint and delicate as a thread of spider-spun silk, but still there. And I still couldn’t scent her. Couldn’t trace her. Couldn’t do a goddamned thing but sit and stare at her phone like it might spontaneously give me the answer to where she was.

“Is he awake yet?” Hawke asked, hot on Lachlan’s heels.

“No. Gabriel said he’d call as soon as he was conscious,” Lachlan answered.

“You’re supposed to be with Avianna.” My gut wrenched into a knot, and I nearly flew out of my chair. I was already missing the love of my life, I sure as hell wasn’t about to lose my sister, too.

“Relax.” Hawke waved me off. “Olivia is back at full strength, and I may have locked them into Avianna’s suite.”

I blinked.

“You what?” Benedict swung around from his seat at the ops station, his brows skyrocketing.

“They’re safer that way. Trust me.” Hawke practically seethed with aggression as he pointed at me. “Your sister is a fucking menace who doesn’t listen to a damned thing anyone else has to say.”

What the fuck? She was a little headstrong, but menace wasn’t quite accurate.

“Little Avianna?” Lachlan fell into his chair and tilted his head at Hawke. “You’re telling me that sweet little girl gave you trouble?”

“Oh, she might look sweet, but trust me—” Hawke started, ripping his hands over his hair and lacing his fingers on top of his head.

An alarm sounded from the ops station, and Benedict swung back to the monitor. “Holy fuck, Alek, we have a problem.”

“Where?” Within a heartbeat we all stood directly behind him, watching the video feed from the security cameras at the edge of the estate.

“Hold on, it will pan back. See? There’s a woman out there, and something tells me she’s not out for a hike in the moonlight.” Benedict pointed to the screen.

Fuck. That knot in my stomach twisted a little tighter.

“That redhead’s not a moon, she’s a fucking space station,” Lachlan muttered. “How the hell did she find us?”

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