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Something cold settled in Blake’s chest. He grabbed Lucas’ wrist.

“Tell me.”

Lucas met his stare. “They took her.”

For a moment, Blake couldn’t process the words.

They took her.

“No.” His mind rejected the possibility.

His teammate didn’t answer.

Blake swung his legs toward the edge of the bed. Pain ripped through his side, stealing his breath.

“Son of a⁠—”

“Dammit, Blake!” Lucas caught him before he could fall. “You tear those stitches, and I swear I’ll strap you to this bed myself.”

“Get out of my way.”

“Not happening.”

Blake shoved at the former Corpsman’s arm.

Lucas didn’t budge. “Listen to me, Savage. You won’t be any good to Devon if you collapse before you make it out of the hospital.”

Blake’s breathing turned ragged. Devon’s screams echoed through his mind.

I failed her.

He’d promised to protect her. Made her believe she was safe with him.

Now the people who killed Carol Jenkins and Scott Mitchell had taken her.

“How long?”

Lucas’ expression tightened. “About six hours.”

Blake looked toward the window, where the faintest hint of daylight was beginning to appear. Every minute that passed gave those bastards more time to hurt her . . . or worse.

He closed his eyes, but then⁠—

No.

He refused to let his mind go there.

“Where’s Emmett?”

“On his way up.”

Blake looked back up at Lucas. “Tell me what happened.”

The man’s deep blue eyes remained guarded. “Look, just calm down, and we can⁠—”

“Don’t.” The word came out harsher than intended. “Don’t tell me to calm down. Don’t tell me I need to rest. Just tell me what the hell happened after I went down.”

A moment’s hesitation was all there was before Lucas pulled a chair closer to the bed.