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Vaelenor flinches like the sound is a physical blow.

I don’t flinch. I can’t. I can’t move.

I’ve stopped breathing.

My stomach plummets to my feet. My heart slams against the cage of my ribs, terror and rage fighting for dominance. Both feed my Beast, who is salivating for revenge.

“What. Happened?” I demand in a voice that doesn’t sound like mine.

Vaelenor pulls out the keys and steps forward to unlock the door. I’m standing so close I can see his hands shake. It takes him two tries to get the key in the lock.

The moment the door swings open, I lurch forward, prepared to tear my Mate from Gavran’s arms.

I don’t need to. He hands her to me, transferring her into my arms like she’s a priceless heirloom he’s afraid to break. The moment her weight settles against me, the Bond pulses, thrumming with relief.

Her head lolls against my chest. Her face twists in agony and a whimper falls past her lips, limp frame tensing in my arms like even in her sleep, she’s bracing for a blow.

“I asked you a question,” I seethe, forcing the words through gritted teeth, “What the fuck happened to my Mate?”

“She didn’t respond well to the interrogation,” he responds in a controlled, measured tone that just pisses me off. Like he’s informing me of a fucking tactical mishap instead of why my Mate looks like she’s barely survived a sprint through Hell.

“No shit.”

I run my hands gently along her arms, legs, and chest, checking for injuries like broken bones. I see no blood. No bruises. No obvious wounds at all to explain why she looks so much worse than she did an hour ago.

“Was she hurt during the Earthquake?”

No answer.

A furious growl rips from my throat. Both men refuse to look me in the eyes. Vae’s attention is fixed on the wall behind me, hands stuffed in his pockets and shoulders hunched like he’s bracing for a blow.

“Answer me,” I demand, letting every ounce of Alpha authority bleed into my tone. I don’t hold back. Don’t temper my power. I want them to feel it. To understand.

Because if someone doesn't start talking, I’m going to lose it. If that happens, my Beast will take control, and neither male will leave here alive.

As much as I’d enjoy ripping them both apart limb by limb, I can’t afford to let that happen. Even now, I hear my father’s voice warning me to get control before I do something to put the pack at risk.

‘If you can’t be trusted to keep control of your Beast when you’re emotional, then you can’t be trusted to lead this Pack. And if you can’t do that, then you can’t protect your Mate. Control, Soren.’

I’ve heard some variation of that exact lesson a thousand times, so it’s easy to imagine his words now. It’s not easy, but I force my Beast back and let the silence stretch uncomfortably, waiting for a fucking answer.

Vaelenor’s eyes flick to the side toward Gavran before falling to his feet with a grimace.

Coward.

Gavran finally breaks the silence. He clears his throat and throws back his shoulders like he’s going to battle. “Vae asked his question, then Daxen asked his. She didn’t handle it well, so we were going to stop, worried she couldn’t handle a third Command after the first two.”

His eyes fall to Idril, then jump back to me, full of a vulnerability I’m not expecting.

“Before I could put an official end to the interrogation, Silas asked his question.”

The words seem so impossibly loud in the empty cell. Again, Gav’s eyes drop to Idril and his face twists with regret.

But I don’t give a fuck about his regret, and my patience is wearing thin.

“I swear to the Fates,” I hiss. “If you don’t tell me what the hell happened, there’s not a male alive who’d blame me for what happens next.”

“You’re right,” he agrees, shame etched in every line of his face. “You’re… you’re absolutely right. And I’m—Fates. I’m sorry. This never should have happened. It was⁠—”