Chapter 26
Twenty-Six
Neil
One thing I can say for Rockcastle is, so far, they treat their prisoners much better than Doyle does in Vegas. Of course, that’s not exactly a high bar to clear.
Instead of a cell, I wake up to find myself in a small bedroom, though it doesn’t seem like anyone actually lives here.
The furniture has a coating of dust, and the air is a bit stale, as if this room has been deserted for a while, any scent of its former resident faded into obscurity.
There’s a window—nailed shut, I checked—and an attached bathroom.
The door also locks from the outside, so this room isn’t quite as innocent as it appears, but it’s certainly better than a concrete floor, a cot, and a metal toilet.
Not having any clothes, however, definitely isn’t an improvement, so I wander over to the dresser and tug open the top drawer.
Inside, there’s a random assortment of clothes.
Some socks, a couple pairs of boxers, a pair of athletic shorts, and a T-shirt or two.
Jackpot for me, I guess, because as much as I don’t want to wear someone else’s clothes, I even less want to face whatever’s about to happen bare-ass naked.
In fact, I might as well make use of the shower as well. Maybe it will help clear the lingering fogginess from my head.
I grab a few items of clothing, then pad over to the bathroom and set the clothes on top of the toilet tank. The pipes make a screeching noise when I first turn on the water, but quickly quiet again as I adjust the water temperature.
As soon as I step under the water, a spike of tingling pain travels down the back of my neck.
Wherever I am, Blake isn’t here, or at least he isn’t close enough for the bond not to bitch.
Taking a deep breath, I hunch my shoulders and turn the faucet all the way to cold, letting the chilly water dull the sensation a bit before readjusting it to a more comfortable temperature.
I make quick work of washing up, using the only soap I can find: a half-empty bottle of dog shampoo. I’m not sure if it’s meant to be some sort of joke or what, but at least it’s the skin soothing variety and the smell isn’t unpleasant or overpowering.
Stepping out of the shower and onto the bathmat, I glance around and curse under my breath.
There are no towels. Such a tiny inconvenience in the scheme of things, but enough to make my eyes burn with tears after all the other bullshit I’ve gone through today.
I close my eyes and take a few slow, deep breaths as water drips from my hair onto the bathmat and floor.
I have to hold it together. I’m no use to Blake or myself if I give in to the despair threatening to drown me like I’m on a trek through the Swamp of Sadness.
Fate wouldn’t bring us together only to rip us apart again, right? I have to believe that.
I take another deep breath, then open my eyes, sighing as I grab the T-shirt I got from the dresser and use it to dry off before putting the rest of the clean clothes on. Tossing the now damp T-shirt into the corner, I return to the dresser, pick up a dry T-shirt, and pull it on over my head.
Strangely enough, the clothes fit me rather well, as if whoever used to live here—or was held here—was similar in size to me. But that’s a mystery I don’t have time to decipher, because I’m here now, and I need to focus on how the hell to get out of here before… who the hell knows?
I have no idea what I’m doing here or why those praetorians were looking for me.
Trying to make good use of whatever time I have, I go through the rest of the dresser drawers as well is the single drawer in the nightstand, but find absolutely nothing of use to me.
No weapons. No random set of keys that might unlock the door.
No hammer to pull out the nails in the window frame.
And no phone or other method of communicating with the outside world.
I sit on the foot of the queen-size bed and rack my brain, trying to come up with something I can do besides, well, sit here. A half-baked idea is just starting to form when there’s the sound of a key in the lock and the door to the room swings open.
Two of the praetorians from earlier, minus the one who shot me with the dart, swagger inside. One of them shuts the door and positions himself directly in front of it, crossing his arms over his chest while the other moves closer to me.
I rise to my feet and edge backwards, eye narrowed. “Why am I here? What you want from me?”
“It’s not about what we want,” says the shifter closest to me. “It’s about the story you’re going to tell when you’re brought before the Rockcastle Alpha.”
I squint at him, trying to figure out what the hell he’s talking about. The fact that I’m being taken before the Rockcastle Alpha isn’t a surprise—I mean, I was technically trespassing—but why would it matter to these guys what I say?
“I don’t get it,” I say finally. “Why does a random praetorian care what I say to the Rockcastle Alpha?”
“I don’t care,” he says simply. “But Alpha Doyle does.”
What? We’re halfway across the country. How is Doyle involved in this? And does this mean he already has Blake?
I swallow, trying to keep my face blank. “And why is the triumvirate helping Doyle?”
“They’re not really.” He smirks. “But there are enough praetorians like me and my friend here who have benefited from Alpha Doyle’s generosity to make sure his version of events is the only one.”
“In other words, while Doyle hasn’t managed to bribe the entire triumvirate, he’s bought the loyalty of people like you and your friend here,” I say in a flat voice. “So why the hell would I listen to anything you have to say?”
He smirks and slides his hand into his pocket.
Eyeing the movement, I take another step backward.
It wouldn’t surprise me if he had a taser or another dart gun, but what he actually pulls from his pocket is a simple cell phone.
He unlocks the phone, swipes his finger across the screen, then holds it up so I can see the image of a cage sitting up against a wall with a golden furred wolf inside, a shiny metal collar around his neck. Blake.
A sharp heat stabs at the back of my neck, and I curl my fingers, digging my blunt nails into my palms and using the bite of pain to prevent myself from visibly reacting. I’m still not sure exactly what’s going on, but I’m not liking the picture that’s beginning to form.
Somehow, Doyle tracked us. I missed something or made a mistake somewhere, and now he has Blake.
But that still doesn’t explain what he wants with me.
At my continued silence, the shifter smirks again, then slides the phone back into his pocket.
“For some reason, Doyle doesn’t want you dead,” he says.
Good to know. “So, as long as you cooperate, toe the company line or whatever when you speak with the Rockcastle Alpha, you and lover boy can be reunited.”
Yeah, reunited in the hell that is the bowels of Doyle’s casino or possibly somewhere even worse. No, thank you.
I narrow my eyes. “What is the ‘company line’ exactly?”
“Glad you can see it our way,” he says. “Basically, the ‘company line’ is that a feral shifter kidnapped one of Doyle’s pack members—you—and he was able to track them here.
He’s managed to take custody of the feral, but as you were found trespassing on Rockcastle territory, the Rockcastle Alpha has to officially release you back into Doyle’s custody. ”
“Why all this posturing? Isn’t Doyle all buddy-buddy with the Rockcastle Alpha or at least his mate?” I watch the shifter’s face carefully before adding, “That’s who sold Blake to him after all.”
If the shifter is shocked by that information, he doesn’t show it. “The Alpha you’re thinking of was… deposed a few months back along with his mate. For now, control of the Rockcastle pack rests with the triumvirate and the interim Alpha they assigned.”
Interesting…
“I don’t know, if I were this interim Alpha, I’d be a bit suspicious of Doyle’s story,” I say. “Isn’t it an awfully strange coincidence that one of the shifters sold from this pack made his way back with Doyle in pursuit?”
He pauses, his eyes darting to the side for a split second, that tiny movement telling me I just found the hole in Doyle’s story: The Rockcastle Alpha and, presumably, the non-bribed praetorians don’t know the “feral” Doyle has in his custody is Blake.
I’m not sure how I can use that information to my advantage, but there’s definitely a way. I just need to figure out what it is.
“Fine. Whatever,” I say when the praetorian doesn’t say anything. “I spin the right story, go along with Doyle’s lies, and me and Blake don’t get dead. That’s basically what you’re saying, right?”
He nods, a self-satisfied smile curling at his lips. “That’s right. Good boy.”
I mentally curse him out, but don’t let it show on my face since pissing him off isn’t likely to get me anywhere.
He stares at me for a good thirty second as if waiting for a reaction, then nods again and turns to make his way back toward his buddy at the door.
“I don’t think you’ll be meeting with the Alpha until a little later, but they might send someone up with a meal here soon. If they do, keep your damn mouth shut.” He pauses with the door open and casts a glance back at me over his shoulder. “Don’t fuck this up.”
“Believe me, I won’t,” I mutter under my breath as the door closes and I’m alone again. I might not have all the information I need to get myself out of this situation yet, but I have enough to start making a plan.
And it starts with whoever brings up the promised meal since it sounded an awful lot like they wouldn’t be someone on Doyle’s payroll.
I return to the bed, sitting down, and then allowing myself to fall backwards so I’m staring up at the ceiling.
I’m not sure how much time passes before the door opens again, but I mentally cross my fingers, plaster a friendly smile on my face, and sit up as a young male shifter slips inside the room, a plate balanced on his hand.
He ducks his head a little, glancing at me from under his hair as he walks across the room and sets the plate on the small nightstand. He’s not wearing a triumvirate uniform…
A Rockcastle pack member, perhaps?
I let my smile widen. “Thank you,” I say with exaggerated friendliness. “I swear my stomach was about to eat itself.”
He laughs softly and shoots me a tiny smile. “No problem.”
“Any idea when I might be getting out of here? It’s been a long few days.”
His brows draw together and he frowns. “No, sorry. I don’t think your Alpha has arrived yet.”
“I see, and, um, when is Doyle expected?” I ask.
“I’m not sure.” He shrugs. “Sorry.”
I don’t have much to work with, but, as best I can tell, this guy doesn’t seem to be in on the lie. That doesn’t necessarily mean I can trust him, but I doubt I’ll have many other chances to talk to someone so it’s a risk I’m going to have to take.
“I’m Neil,” I say. “What’s your name?”
“Taylor.”
“Are you from around here?”
He nods. “Yeah, I grew up here. This is my pack.”
“I see.” I nod slowly as I gather my thoughts. “There have been a lot of changes recently, right? How has it been living under the triumvirate’s thumb?”
“Much better than it was under the former Alpha,” he says, chuckling. “He was… not a very good one and his mate was awful.”
“So I hear.” I pause, letting the silence draw out. “Because of the whole selling shifters thing, right?”
His eyes widen a bit, but he nods.
“But the new guy? He’s okay?” What I really want to ask is if this Alpha is a money and/or power-hungry asshole like Doyle, but that would be showing my cards.
“Yeah. Solomon is…” A pink tinge creeps into Taylor’s cheeks. “He’s a good Alpha.”
I hide a smile behind my hand. Looks like someone has a crush. That actually might bode well for this Solomon guy being on the up and up rather than beholden to Doyle.
“That’s good, great even,” I say, half to myself.
Studying the young man’s face, I take a deep breath and go for it.
“I’m going to level with you here, Taylor.
Doyle is not my Alpha and he’s not one of the good guys.
In fact, he and your former Alpha, or at least the former Alpha Mate, knew each other. ”
“That’s…” His brows draw together with confusion and he tilts his head to the side. “What do you mean?”
“I mean Doyle was one of the former Rockcastle Alpha Mate’s ‘customers’.”
He blinks, opening and closing his mouth a few times.
I continue, “I wasn’t kidnapped or, at least, not by some feral shifter.
The shifter Doyle claims is feral is my fated mate, and he was held prisoner by Doyle for years before we were able to escape.
He’s actually from Rockcastle and he’s looking for his brother.
That’s why we came here. I don’t know how Doyle found us but—”
“You’re talking about Blake Shiflett,” whispers Taylor, eyes widening. He breaks into a wide smile and bounces on his feet a little with excitement. “That’s amazing! I can get you out of here, just let me go get—”
“Hold on,” I say quickly. “Some of the praetorians are on Doyle’s payroll, one of them straight-up admitted it, and there’s no way of telling which ones are compromised.”
“Don’t worry,” he says, flashing me a confident grin. “I know exactly what to do.”