Morgan took it begrudgingly, already certain he didn’t want to know what it contained. He glanced at Adrian, only to find his twin simmering with barely contained rage.
He fumbled to open the letter, skimming it with dread.
I have your pretty little Prometheus. Do you really think I am foolish enough to believe that she has been behind the mask all along? If you value her life at all, the actual Prometheus will meet me at my warehouse down at the docks. I want to settle this once and for all.
Winters
“Fiona!” Adrian muttered. “I don’t know why I didn’t see it before. She’s the only one who makes sense. She’s been rescuing the children herself, dressed as Prometheus.”
Morgan dropped the letter and stumbled back, bending over and bracing his hands on his knees as all the horrors of last year came crashing down on him. How was this possible? How could another woman he loved be at the mercy of that bastard?
“I think you’re right,” he said dully. “The answer was right in front of me all along, but I just didn’t see it. It never even occurred to me that it could be a woman, but why not? Of course, it was her. Of course, she’d be that brave. How could I have been so stupid?”
“We have to go,” Luke said grimly. “We can’t let what happened to Anne happen to Fiona.”
“I will kill the bastard if he harms one hair on her head,” Morgan vowed, all the rage that had been building up in him since his wife’s death coming to the surface. “He’s made our lives hell for long enough.”
“I’m sorry this happened,” Adrian said hollowly. “I feel like this is all my fault. If I hadn’t started going out as Prometheus—”
“Don’t say that,” Morgan interrupted, knowing he’d let his brother suffer for all of this long enough. “I am proud of you for what you’ve done. And I’m proud of Fiona as well. That monster needed to be stopped and all the others like him. You’ve taught me that it isn’t enough to make a donation every month while we live our charmed lives. I want to continue to fight this fight, and nothing Roger can do will ever stop that.”
Adrian gave him a grateful look. “Thank you. I know you care about Fiona, and I promise that we will get her back.”
“I don’t just care for her,” Morgan admitted fiercely, straightening. “I love her. She’s brave and smart and beautiful, and I couldn’t bear it if something happened to her, too.”
Lucien scrubbed his hand over his face and nodded, cracking his neck. “Well, we can’t just walk in there blindly. It has to be a trap. We need to come up with a plan.”
“I have an idea,” Morgan told them, trying to keep the panic away. “Let me get the children downstairs to their nanny, and we’ll head out.”
* * *
FIONA WOKE UP SLOWLY, confused and disoriented when she realized she was not in her attic bedroom but in a dark stinking cellar. She tried to move, only to send pain shooting through her limbs, which were bound to a chair in the center of the room.
She groaned and struggled, trying to break free, only to remember that she’d done so during most of the night with no luck. Her hands and ankles were raw and bloody, and every time she moved, it hurt.
The Earl of Winters had brought her here sometime late yesterday evening, and he’d grilled her for what had seemed an eternity before he’d finally grown annoyed and left her with dire promises of what would happen to her when he returned.
She’d resigned herself to the thought of being raped, but now, she wondered if he intended to kill her as well. Everything was made even worse by the thought that he intended to use her as bait to lure in the Strathmores—he’d gleefully told her that he didn’t intend to them let leave this place alive.
She could only hope that they were smart enough not to put themselves in danger on her behalf. She would never forgive herself if something happened to them because of her own stupidity.
Why had she gone into that brothel without checking it out first? She’d known it was risky, but she’d been so upset over what had happened with Morgan that some part of her hadn’t really cared. She’d thought herself smart and brave, but perhaps Winters had been right to laugh when he’d found out she was a woman. When those bastards had caught her, she’d been unable to do a damned thing to save herself.
She had a knife in her boot, and they hadn’t searched her or taken it from her, but from the moment they’d first laid hands on her, she’d been immobilized and unable to reach for it. She should have brought a gun and shot the first one to touch her.
With a muttered cry of resignation, she finally quit struggling and sagged back in her chair, winded and hurting. Darkness surrounded her, but a faint light seeped in from the doorframe at the top of the stairs. Was it morning or afternoon? How long had she slept?
She gazed around her, taking in everything she could of her surroundings, and suddenly had a horrible thought. Was this where Anne Strathmore had lost her life? Vanessa had told her it had happened in the cellar of a warehouse down by the docks. Were those the stairs they’d pushed Anne down, hurting her so badly that she’d gone into labor with Felicity and later, lost her life?
Her heart sank even further at the thought that Morgan would have to relive all that when he came to rescue her. Because deep down, she had no doubt that he would come for her, risking his own life to save hers. That’s the kind of man he was, and she loved him all the more for it.
Dear God, how she loved that man! She promised herself that if she got out of this that she would make sure that he knew it and never again do anything to push him away.
A commotion above made her suddenly jerk upright, cursing under her breath as the sudden motion made her hurt all over again. She leaned forward, straining to hear what was going on, then shrank back when the door at the top of the stairs flew open and the Earl of Winters strode quickly down, a sneer on his lips.
“Well, hello, Fiona Bohannan,” he said, having obviously found out everything about her. “I didn’t know we were old acquaintances.”
“What are you talking about?” she demanded, a sinking feeling taking root inside her.
