“Yeah, I’m sure you were real torn up about it.”
She met my eyes again, a spark of fire flickering in hers. “I am just as much his prisoner as Gray is,” she insisted. “I never—”
My hand was around her throat before I’d even registered the action. “Don’t you say her fucking name to me. Don’t youeversay it.”
Despite my strength, we both knew I couldn’t kill her this way—I’d have to burn her or cut off her head—but she relented anyway, lowering her eyes and nodding in a silent promise.
I released her. I had no intention of killing her. I’d promised Gray I’d get her out of here.
“If you’re his prisoner,” I said, “how is it you’re walking around free?”
“Jonathan went off with… with your witch,” she said, careful to heed my advice and not mention Gray’s name. “I think he took her out of here. Some of the guards were sent out to look for them—I heard them talking on their devices.”
I didn’t bother clarifying that Gray was the one who’d taken Jonathan out of here, not vice versa.
“And you managed to track me down without alerting a single guard?” I asked.
“There aren’t enough guards to go around. There’s too much to keep track of here, and I’m not important enough to keep track of.” Sadness filled her eyes, but it flickered out quickly, replaced by an emotion I knew well.
I’d once spent a lot of time nurturing it. Feeding it. And now that same intensity rolled off her body in waves.
Vengeance.
I blew out a breath, not sure how to play this. A woman scorned could go either way, throwing her man under the bus one minute, jumping into his arms the next.
Partnering up was a risky proposition. But letting her walk? Not happening. Fiona was a loose end I couldn’t afford to leave untied, and she’d spent more time in this place—and in Jonathan’s presence—than I had. Maybe shecouldhelp me.
“Let’s get something clear, Fangs.” I grabbed her face, forcing her to meet my eyes. “The only reason you’re not a pile of ashes right now is that Gray thought you deserved a second chance.”
The vengeance in her eyes melted into another emotion I knew well: regret.
“But I don’t,” she whispered.
“Maybe not. But Gray seemed to think there was still some good left in you.” I released her and fished out one of the comm devices, handing it over. “Here’s the deal. I’m giving you that second chance you don’t deserve. And you’re going to earn it back retroactively.”
She took the device as if it was the most precious gift anyone had ever given her. “Thank… Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet, Fangs. You’ve got a lot of hard work ahead of you.”
She wiped the tears from her face and nodded quickly. “Where do we start?”
I jerked my head toward the cages behind us. “What do you know about the cages?”
“You can’t touch the bars. They’re all fae spelled—everything here is.”
Fae spelled? That would explain the high-tech gear and why I was pretty sure none of the guys could sense our presence here. It also jibed with the poison gas Emilio had discovered the morning after Jonathan had nabbed Gray and Asher.
So the little fuckerwasworking with the fae.
“Does the name Orendiel ring any bells?” I asked Fiona.
Her eyes widened. “How do you know Orendiel?”
“I’m more interested in howyouknow him.”
“I don’t. Not personally,” she said quickly, but there was a note of reverence in her voice that hadn’t been there a second ago. “He’s one of the fae helping Jonathan.”
“Helping how, exactly?”
