“That it is,” the other anchor replied. “And now, with the weather, is meteorologist—”
Elyse muted the TV when a map of Maine filled the screen.
“So does that mean the police have been called off?” Simone asked.
“I hope so. Ronan said he had taken care of this; do you think this is what he did?” Elyse asked Kadence.
“It must be,” Kadence said. “With the result of the search for you being a happy one, no one will be on the lookout for you, or Declan and Asher.”
“Nobody wanted to look for those two ugly bastards anyway,” a new voice said.
Elyse turned to find Logan standing in the doorway and slumped against it. His face was haggard and pale, his eyes sunken, and he looked as if he’d lost five pounds over the past two days.
“You’re awake!” Kadence cried and rushed toward him.
“I’m awake,” he muttered.
“We thought you’d be out for another day at least,” Simone said.
He gave her a half smile. “Not even death can keep me down.”
“You didn’t die,” Kadence said.
“Okay then, not evenneardeath can keep me down.” He dropped his head into his hand and rubbed his temples. “My head is pounding and my throat… it’s on fire.”
“It’s okay.” Kadence draped his arm over her shoulders and led him toward the couch. “We’ll get something to make it stop.”
She shot an anxious glance at Simone, who started to edge toward Elyse. When a tingle swept Elyse’s spine, the hair on her nape rose as she recalled Ronan’s words.“We need to be back before Logan wakes up; we’ll have to make sure he has a blood supply.”
She was the only blood supply anywhere near this cabin unless they included the animals. Logan was halfway to the couch when he stopped to sniff the air. “What’s that smell?”
Elyse’s throat went dry when she realized that smell was probablyher. When Logan’s reddened eyes landed on her, she knew it was true. They’d all expected him to be out for another day, but he was awake andravenous.
Chapter Forty-Three
“This isalotbigger than the last bunker I was in,” Killean muttered as the tunnel stretched endlessly before them.
The beams of the flashlights only lit twenty feet ahead of them, leaving the rest of the massive tunnel in shadow. Fifty feet after the side tunnel, they discovered doors lining the sides of the hall and had been opening them to reveal small, eight by eight rooms with only a cot within. They’d opened at least twenty doors so far but hadn’t encountered any more side tunnels.
“Where are they?” Lucien asked.
Saxon was wondering the same thing. This place looked big enough to house a few hundred Savages, if not more, but all they’d encountered was the group in the side tunnel. Stopping outside a closed door, he gripped the handle and went to turn it, but it didn’t budge.
“Lucien,” he said. “Give me the light.”
“What is it?” Ronan asked.
“The door’s locked,” Saxon said.
Lucien swung the beam of light toward him as the others stopped walking. Saxon held his stake at the ready as he yanked down on the knob and ripped it away from the door. The knob clattered against the metal floor before Asher stepped on it.
Saxon held his hand out to Lucien. “Let me see your light.”
Lucien handed it over as Saxon rested his hand against the door, shoved it inward, and ducked in preparation of something coming out at him or firing at him. Springs creaked, and someone whimpered as the beam flashed over the concrete walls before landing on the man huddled in the corner of the cot. He shook so bad that the bed rattled as he tried to meld into the wall.
The awful stench of body odor and waste filled the room. The man smelled as if he hadn’t bathed in months, and Saxon suspected the bucket in the corner was the closest to a bathroom he’d come since arriving here.
The hand against the wall was missing all but the thumb and forefinger. Judging by the burnt flesh surrounding his missing fingers, they’d cauterized the wounds. As the man hugged his drawn-up legs, Saxon saw the other hand lacked the same fingers.
