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It was almost time for them to bring him food.
Unless they were going to kill him.
But, no. Vadim wouldn’t have sent his son in to try and crack Lyon if he’d been ready to kill him, although the fact that it hadn’t worked might push him over the edge.
He couldn’t afford to think about it, couldn’t afford to believe it would end that way. Despair was already too close, taunting him from the shadows of his damp concrete prison like a siren.
If he gave into despair, this nightmare would soon be over. He would die, would be able to let everything go of this world, but then he would never see Kira again, never meet their baby.
That was unimaginable.
He would fight.
His head snapped up at the sound of footsteps on the other side of the steel door. They were the slow and steady footsteps of his captors, his tormentors — three of them.
Which meant it was mealtime.
They would free him to eat and use the bathroom. Then he would make his move.
He gripped the screw tighter as the door swung open.
9
Kira paced the waterfront surrounding the warehouse, aware of Alek’s presence a few feet away. That he was here was a sacrifice. He hadn’t said it, but he wanted to be with the men currently rescuing Lyon, not here, babysitting her.
It was a sentiment she understood. She didn’t want to be here either.
Her helplessness made her angry, and she turned to look at Alek. He stood with his gun drawn, a few feet away from the track she’d been pacing in front of the river.
“You should be there.” She heard the note of accusation in her voice and hated it, but she couldn’t help it.
His expression remained impassive. “No, I shouldn’t. Lyon would have my head if I left you unprotected and we both know it.”
“There are other men who can —”
She was stopped short by the shaking of Alek’s head. “Lyon wouldn’t think that was good enough.”
He was right. She knew he was right. This wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation in the past twenty-four hours.
“I hate this,” she said, all the bitterness seeping out of her.
“I know,” he said, his voice warmed with sympathy.
It was the helplessness that was killing her. The men they’d managed to scrounge together were right now, at this very minute, staging an attack on the two sites where Lyon might be held prisoner.
And she was here, at the warehouse by the river, under protection like some kind of Victorian damsel.
“Have you heard anything?” She’d asked the question far too much in the past hour, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself.
Alek made a show of looking at his phone, even though they both knew he would have heard it if someone had called or texted.
He slipped it back in his pocket with his free hand, his other hand still on his weapon. “Not since they said they were going in.”
Her stomach roiled, the baby kicking as if he or she knew what was at stake.
She resumed her pacing, her gaze drawn out to the sleeping warehouse district, the barges making their way lazily down the river, the lights of the Port reflected in the inky water.
She took a deep breath and grasped for something to think about, something that didn’t involve the possibility of Lyon being found dead or not at all.
