“I figured it out weeks ago,” Taz added. “The protective thing you’ve got going is a little intense for just coach and player.”
“Does he know?” Max asked.
I shook my head. “About what I am? No, he suspects something and he knows I have secrets, but I was supposed to be keeping him safe.” My voice gave out. I should have told him last night as I originally intended. I was a coward and it had hurt him. This was my fault. All my fault.
“So what’s the plan?” Cole asked, his eyes already shifting toward red that meant his dragon was close to the surface. “Because we’re getting him back. That’s not a question.”
“Agreed,” Ignatius said. “Can you sense him?”
I shook my head. My dragon would have been able to if I hadn’t spent weeks denying our bond.
My phone buzzed one more time. I looked down, expecting another message from Odin.
Instead, it was from Dante’s number.
A video file.
My hands were shaking so badly I almost dropped the phone. Ignatius steadied me, his hand on my shoulder as I pressed play.
The video was short, maybe fifteen seconds. Dante, tied to a chair in what looked like a warehouse or industrial space. His head was lolling forward, his eyes closed, but I could see his chest rising and falling. Alive. He was alive.
Then Odin’s voice, off-camera: “Just so you know I’m serious. Keep looking out for further instructions.”
The video ended.
I stood there staring at the blank screen, my dragon howling with such fury that I felt my control slipping again. My eyes were burning copper, my hands starting to shift, claws beginning to emerge before I could stop them.
“Theron.” Ignatius’s voice was sharp. “Control.”
I forced myself to breathe, to push my dragon back down. But the image of Dante tied to that chair, unconscious and vulnerable, was seared into my mind.
I would not fail Dante. Whatever it took, whatever I had to do—I would get him back.
And then I was going to make Odin Clark regret the day he decided to use my mate as leverage.
“He’s shielding the location somehow,” Ignatius said, his frustration evident as he paced my office. It was three in the morning, and we were still at the arena. I hadn’t left. Couldn’t leave. “Either with magic or just good old-fashioned interference. Not even Doryu can get a lock on him.”
I stared at my phone, willing it to ring. To give me something, anything I could use to find him.
Another message from Odin had come through an hour earlier. Just a photo this time—Dante, still unconscious or maybe just sleeping, not in the chair but slumped against a wall. No new information. Just demands. Just proof that he still had him.
“He’s playing with you,” Ignatius said quietly. “Keeping you on the hook. The longer he waits, the more desperate you become, the more likely you are to agree to whatever he asks.”
“I know.” My voice was barely recognizable, roughened by hours of barely contained rage. “I know his game. It doesn’t make it any easier.”
Cole had gone home around midnight, promising to come back first thing in the morning. Max and Taz had lasted until two before I’d forced them to leave—they had a game to play later, and sitting here watching me fall apart wasn’t helping anyone.
But I couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t eat. Could barely hold my human form with my dragon constantly surging forward, demanding I do something, fix this, get our mate back.
My phone buzzed. I grabbed it so fast I nearly dropped it.
Another message from Odin:Still comfortable. Still alive. Still waiting for you to realize cooperation is your only option. You will coach the game. I will be watching. We will talk afterwards.
“Bastard,” I growled, my grip tightening on the phone until the screen cracked slightly.
“Easy,” Ignatius warned. “Destroying your phone won’t help.”
He was right. I knew he was right. But standing here doing nothing while Dante was somewhere scared and alone was killing me.
