I sat there gasping, my entire body screaming. My left eye was already swelling shut, and blood dripped from my split lip onto my shirt.
“Excellent,” Odin said, reviewing the photos on his phone. “These should do nicely. Your coach is going to lose his mind when he sees them.”
I wanted to tell him to go to hell. Wanted to spit blood at his expensive shoes, but I couldn’t find the breath for it.
They left me there, tied to that chair, while Odin presumably sent the photos to Theron. I lost track of time, it could have been hours or minutes.
I thought about Theron. About the way he’d looked at me in his kitchen that morning, like I was something precious. About the careful way he’d held me, like he was afraid I’d break. About the copper glow in his eyes that I now understood meant his dragon was close to the surface.
He was going to come for me. I knew that with absolute certainty. And Odin was counting on it.
The door opened, and I forced my good eye to focus. Two more security guys entered, both armed. They took up positions on either side of the door, their weapons held with the casual competence of people who knew how to use them.
Then Theron walked in.
And my heart stopped beating.
Chapter twenty-one
Empty Net - When a team removes its goalie for an extra attacker.
Theron
I stopped in the doorway, my entire body going rigid as I took in the scene before me.
Dante. Tied to a chair. His face was a mess of bruises—left eye swollen shut, lip split and still bleeding, a darkening mark along his jaw that made me want to kill everyone. His shirt was torn,and I could see the beginning of bruises on his ribs through the fabric.
They’d beaten him. Tied him to a chair and beaten him, and I hadn’t been there to stop it.
My dragon roared with such fury that I felt my bones start to shift before I wrestled it back under control. Not here. Not now. I had to stay human, had to stay in control, or they’d kill him before I could get him out.
“Theron.” His voice was rough, damaged. “Don’t—whatever he wants, don’t—”
“Quiet,” one of the armed men said, stepping forward with his weapon raised.
I moved before I could think about it, putting myself between the gun and Dante. The security guy’s eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t lower the weapon. I couldn’t fight against five men with guns.
“Touching,” Odin said, appearing from somewhere behind me. “The protective instinct. It’s one of the things I find most fascinating about dragons. The mate bond makes you so wonderfully predictable.”
I forced myself to turn and face him, though every instinct I had was screaming to keep Dante in my line of sight. “You got me here. Let him go.”
“Eventually.” Odin gestured to one of his men, who handed him a folder. “But first, we need to discuss the terms of your cooperation.”
He opened the folder and pulled out a single sheet of paper—old, yellowed with age, covered in cramped handwriting.
“My father was brilliant, if shortsighted. My grandfather was the forge dragon and refused to share his knowledge with his son, even though my father could… shall we say,spread his wings?” Odin said, holding the paper out to me. “My grandfather regretted that decision, I made sure of that.Unfortunately, I had no choice but to put an end to my father’s ambitions as well because he was running the company into the ground.”
“You killed them.” It was a statement, not a question.
Odin shrugged. “Convenient accidents to their mates, and the bonds took care of the rest. But to get to the point. As I said, my father was brilliant if shortsighted. Ahead of his time in ways the dragon community never appreciated. He had theories about metallic transformation that most dismissed as impossible.”
I took the paper with hands that were shaking. Read the words written there.
All metals are but variations of the same song. The fundamental structure differs only in arrangement, in the frequency at which their atoms vibrate. Change the song, and you change the metal itself.
This was impossible, but I had to get him talking. Give Ignatius and the others time to get in place. I’d gotten the first message as soon as I’d left the team plane, been tied and blindfolded like I didn’t know where we were heading.
“Clark—”
