Page 128 of Glitched Fates & Stolen Mates

My teeth clenched so tightly pain shot up to my temples. Of course they’d use him as a guard dog. In another life, I would have found it funny, my mighty father reduced to this. The irony would have been delicious if it wasn’t so perfectly calculated to gut me.

The door opened with a soft hydraulic hiss.

A woman entered, and my world tilted sideways.

Moira.

Older than when I’d last seen her—lines around her eyes, silver threading through her dark hair—yet she still carried herself like she owned every room she walked into. Dark military fatigues, combat boots that barely made a sound on the polished floor. The years had sharpened her rather than softened her, all angles and authority.

All those years ago, she’d recruited me. Promised me purpose, belonging, a way to serve something bigger than myself. I’d been young and stupid and desperate to matter.

I hadn’t seen her since.

My hands curled into fists against the restraints. Rage flooded my chest, hot and vicious. This was the woman who ruined my life, who broke me almost beyond repair.

But here she was, settling into the chair across from me with casual confidence.

I said nothing. Let her talk first. Show her cards.

“Kit,” she said warmly, like we were old friends meeting for coffee.

My wolf snarled.

“I do apologise for the inconvenience,” she continued, gesturing at the restraints with a faux display of regret. “And for the rather rough treatment prior to this. I’m afraid the silver is necessary for everyone’s safety.”

I stared at her.

“This facility houses our primary research equipment,” she said. “Our most valuable assets. We can’t afford to take any risks.”

“Where am I?” I kept my voice steady. Every scrap of information mattered now.

“Switzerland!” she said brightly. “Deep, deep in the wilderness. Great for hiking, in the summer.”

My heart sank. Switzerland. Miles and miles of snowy mountains in every direction, endless wilderness where a body could disappear forever.

“Losing our Highland branch earlier this year was… unfortunate,” Moira continued, her tone conversational. “Our lovely Rory forced us to accelerate certain timelines. But it also gave us the opportunity to upgrade this facility even further. We have other sites worldwide of course, but I end up spending a lot of time here.”

“Where’s Isla?” I asked. We hadn’t managed to get even a whiff of Moira’s daughter since she disappeared on Rory in Scotland. “Is she okay? Rory’s been worried—”

“Isla is perfectly well,” Moira interrupted smoothly. “You don’t need to worry about her.” She leaned back in her chair, studying me like I was a particularly interesting specimen. “You’ve been busy since you left us, Kit. I hear you’re shacked up with a vampire in a hotel in London?”

I couldn’t help but flinch, even though it was obvious they’d been watching me. Watching everyone. Watching Felix. For how long?

“Come now,” Moira continued, her smile widening. “You thought we’d simply let our former operatives disappear without keeping tabs on them?”

My lips pressed together tightly.

“And you were one of our best operatives, Kit,” she said, settling back in her chair like we were having a pleasant chat. “Always so reliable. Dependable. I was genuinely saddened when you left us.”

The praise seeped through me like acid. Reliable. Dependable. Their perfect little killer.

I jerked against the restraints, silver digging deeper into my wrists. The metal chains rattled against the table, echoing in the sterile room.

“Come on, Kit. Enough of that.”

Moira nodded slightly. The gesture made no sense until movement caught my peripheral vision—my father shifting forward, rifle trained directly on my chest. She was commanding her guard dog.

My breath caught.