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1
Mercy
I woke up gasping,images of my men dropping like flies around me flashing through my mind. Someone had attacked us—we’d been hit by darts—and then everything had gone dark.
My eyes popped open, and the world swam for a moment. My head was throbbing, and there was a pinch of pain on the side of my neck where the needle had hit me. My body burned to move, to defend myself and the guys if they were still with me, but I was too dizzy to orient myself… Where the hellwasI?
As my vision cleared, everything around me came into sharper focus. I was lying on my back in a large room. The air was warm, and a soft glow washed over me from a crystalline fixture encased in an elaborate molding on the high ceiling. My head rested on a silky pillow. I managed to sit up and found that the rest of me had been lying on a thick Persian carpet.
Whoever had brought me here had taken a whole lot more care in my comfort than I’d have expected. I’d have assumed it’d been Xavier or someone else with the Storm behind the attack, but they’d never treated me anywhere near this gently before.
Not just me—us. My men were spread out on the rug around me, each with their own pillow under their heads. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have thought they were having a good night’s sleep.
I scooted toward Rowan, who was nearest to me, and gripped his shoulder. “Rowan,” I said urgently, giving him a shake. “Wake up.” When he didn’t respond, I slapped him lightly on his cheeks.
His eyes opened, and he blinked up at me as if trying to place me. His voice came out creaky. “Mercy?” Then all at once, he tried to sit up—too fast. His body swayed with what I guessed was the same dizziness I’d been hit with when I first woke up.
“Careful,” I said. “Somebody sedated us. It takes its time wearing off.”
Rowan tensed, his gaze flicking around the room as he ran his hand over his short blond hair. “Who grabbed us? What the hell is going on?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t see anyone when it happened, and no one’s been around since I woke up.”
At my other side, Wylder groaned and rubbed his forehead, swiping away the auburn strands that had fallen rumpled across it. Gideon and Kaige were stirring as well. At least they all appeared to bealive. These days, with everything we’d been through, I’d count that as a blessing.
Wylder looked at me, concern darkening his bright green eyes. “Are you okay?”
I stretched my arms and rolled my head experimentally. The dizziness was gone, and the pain in my neck had already faded. “I’m fine,” I said. “For now.”
With a jolt of fear, my hands dropped to my sides. I was still wearing the same clothes as I remembered, but my weapons—my gun and my knife—were gone. So was my phone. Shit. It wasn’t surprising, but the loss still made me feel uncomfortably naked.
Kaige was frowning as he checked himself over. His massive brawn flexed beneath his fitted tee. “My gun’s been taken too. Who the fuck is messing with us?”
Gideon winced when he came up with nothing as well. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was more bothered by his missing phone than his lack of weaponry. With his tongue flicking over his lip ring, he peered around the posh room with its old-fashioned stylings and knit his brow. “This is very strange. They obviously could have killed us, but they didn’t. So they must want something from us other than our lives.”
Wylder arched an eyebrow. “Which means we can assume it wasn’t Xavier, right? That fuckerdefinitelywanted to mount all of our heads on pikes.”
“Yeah,” I said, pushing myself to my feet taking in the rest of the space. A long, polished oak table stood at the other end of the room with five matching chairs on either side. A few pieces of what looked like expensive artwork hung on the walls. “But who else would have wanted to take us captive? And why leave us here like this? They haven’t even restrained us.”
“They figure we don’t stand a chance of escaping even without tying us up,” Wylder muttered, looking offended by the implication.
Kaige focused on the door. He got up, wobbling for a second, and marched over to try the curved handle. It jarred in his hand, locked. He growled at it. “We need to get the fuck out of here.”
“Easier said than done,” Rowan murmured as he stood.
There was a huge bay window, but it was locked too, with iron bars running over the panes so even breaking the glass wouldn’t get us far. Wylder walked past it along the length of the room. I peered at the daylight showing through the window. It was impossible to tell how many hours had passed since we’d been taken or even whether it was still the same day, and I found it jarring to not have any sense of the actual time.
“Howlonghave we been here?” Wylder said abruptly. “Did I miss Roland’s funeral? If these assholes stopped me from being there for my brother… Damn it!” He slammed his fist into the wall.
“Wylder,” I said, going to him and placing a hand on his shoulder.
He stiffened, guilt etched all over his face. “It was the least I could do for him, Mercy. His last send-off. He deserved it.”
“He does, and you’ll be there when it happens.” I didn’t know if that was true, but I had no idea how else to console him. I hadn’t gotten to have a last send-off for my family either. At some point, when I didn’t have a psycho breathing down my neck, I could go pick up the ashes from the coroner… Maybe I could have some kind of ceremony then.
As that thought passed through my mind, a key clicked in the lock on the other side of the door. We all froze.
Before we had a chance to come up with any kind of plan, the door flew open and two men and a woman strode into the room. They were dressed in collared shirts and dress pants as if they were here for a business meeting and not a kidnapping, but I could make out the outline of a holster at each of their hips. They were armed. One of the men rested his hand on his weapon without taking it out—just a reminder that he could if he needed to.
