Shapes swam into view—Warwicke and Wilton, crouched over him, their faces drawn tight with concern.
He sat up abruptly, wincing at the flash of pain. His gaze swept the room in a frantic search. “Where is Olivia?” The question tore from his throat, raw and frantic.
Wilton hesitated. “She was abducted.”
The words landed like a physical blow.
Abducted.
“No,” Evander said, the denial reflexive, automatic. “How?”
Warwicke’s voice was steady, but his eyes were weary. “I had been following you, concerned for your safety. When I heard you scream, I ran over to you as fast as I could. But I was too late. They were already fleeing. I managed to stop them from taking you as well.”
Evander shoved his hand through his hair, breathing hard. “You should have gone after her!” he barked, the rage in him snapping like a whip. “You should have—blast it,Warwicke, you should have saved her!”
“I know you’re angry, but you need to calm down—” Warwicke started.
“Don’t you daretell me to calm down,” Evander growled. “She’s my wife! I was right there, and I did nothing. I couldn’t stop it. I failed her.”
“You were ambushed,” Wilton revealed. “They were waiting for you to leave our townhouse. This wasn’t random.”
Evander’s jaw clenched. “Who isthey?”
The two men exchanged a look—tense, uncertain.
“We’re not entirely sure,” Wilton admitted.
Evander surged to his feet, only to stumble as dizziness slammed into him. The room tilted sideways, and he had to drop back onto the settee, bracing his elbows on his knees.
“You need to have a doctor look at you,” Wilton urged.
“I don’t need a doctor,” Evander bit out. “I need my wife.”
Warwicke sat beside him, calm but insistent. “You need rest, Evander.”
Evander almost laughed.Rest?His heart felt like it had been ripped from his chest. “Would you rest if Dorothea had been taken?”
Warwicke shook his head. “No. I wouldn’t.”
“Then don’t ask it of me,” he replied. “I won’tsit here waiting for something to happen. I haveto find her.”
“Then we’ll find her,” Warwicke said evenly. “But we have to be smart. Until we receive word, there isn’t much to go on.”
Evander’s mind reeled. The reformers. Threats. The meeting.
“Lord Luca,” he said suddenly. “Could he be behind this?”
Warwicke raised an eyebrow. “It’s possible… but I’ve heard nothing of this through my contacts.”
“Then we askhim,” Evander said, rising again—more slowly this time. “We speak to him now.”
“I don’t think—” Warwicke began.
“I don’t carewhat you think is wise,” Evander snapped. “I’m going, with or without you.”
Wilton moved to block his path, his expression grim. “We all want Olivia back. She’s my sister. But running off without a plan helps no one.”
“I’ve listened to everyone long enough,” Evander said, pushing past him. “All I’ve got is the drive to dosomething.”
