Chapter Twenty-Three
Thursday
VIC STRODE along the Via del Banco di Santo Spirito, heading for the Sant Angelo Castle bridge for the second time, his thoughts fixed not on his meeting with Orsini, but on his mates. Crank had sent several messages grousing about the food in the camp, but Vic took those with a grain of salt. Crank was a regular omnivore. Saul called him a human garbage disposal unit, and Vic had to admit he pretty much nailed it. One night back in Homer Glen, Roadkill had filled him in on all the horrendous things they’d gotten Crank to eat over the years, and Vic had been both appalled and impressed.
Not long now.
He knew Saul would be up to his neck in preparation for the mission. He was leading the biggest team, and Vic pitied the men under his command. He imagined Saul would be a tough son of a bitch who demanded nothing but the best from his team.
Yeah, Vic was proud as fuck of both his mates.
Saul had said the team would be heading back to Illinois on Saturday, and Vic wanted to be ready for them. That meant only one thing—lube, lube, and lube. He’d actually gone online to see if a fifty-five-gallon barrel was readily available. It was hard not to order one.
Or two.
As he drew closer to the gates, his progress was impeded by two men in suits, and Vic’s senses went on alert.
“Mr. Ryder?” The taller man flashed him a polite smile. “If you could accompany us, sir.”
Shit. This isn’t good.
Vic frowned. “I don’t know who you are, you’ve shown me no identification, and I have a meeting. So if you’ll excuse me….” He tried to swerve around the men, only to feel what was undoubtedly a gun poking into his back. The person holding it was close enough that Vic could feel his body warmth.
“Don’t cause a scene, Mr. Ryder.”
Vic wanted to wipe the smug smile from that fucker’s face. “Where are you taking me?”
“We have a car waiting. After that, our plans need not concern you.”
Looks like I have no choice.
He followed the two men to the Palazzo Alberini. They went through the hallway and emerged into an inner courtyard where a black van awaited. The side door slid open, revealing another man who beckoned him, a gun in one hand.
“Get in.”
“Seeing as you asked so politely.” Vic climbed into the back seat, and before he could get another word out, something sharp pricked his neck.
“Pleasant dreams, Fridan.”
SAUL CAME to a dead stop in the middle of his run, unable to stop the shivers that coursed through him. He bent over, struggling for breath.
Crank.
I know. I felt it too. What the fuck was that?
Saul turned back toward the camp and broke into a run. Only one explanation.
Holy shit. Vic’s in trouble.
Saul headed for the command tent. I’m going to see Horvan.
On my way.
The camp was a hive of activity. Weapons checks, equipment, tech…. Nothing would be left to chance.
Except Saul couldn’t think about the mission.
What’s happening to Vic?
If those bastards hurt him….
Gods help them.
VIC OPENED his eyes. He was bound, arms behind the chair back, ankles tied to its legs. The first thing he registered was the faint hum of the AC. The air temperature was cool, the lighting limited, but enough to see the wide chair across the room from him. He squinted, trying to get a better look at its occupant.
“Welcome to my home.”
It was a cultured voice, smooth and low.
It was also menacing as fuck. Vic’s balls wanted to shrivel up and retreat into his body at the sound.
“I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me where your home is located.” The words came out as a croak, and he cursed his dry throat. No way did he want to appear afraid of this guy.
Except he was, and he had no idea why.
The man in the chair gestured with one hand, and someone stepped closer, holding a glass with a straw. Vic sucked on it greedily, relishing the cool water. When it was withdrawn, he cleared his throat and stared at the dark figure before him.
“Who are you?”
“Don’t you know?” A light flickered, illuminating the speaker, and Vic sucked in his breath.
This was Someone. He sat straight in his chair, legs crossed, hands clasped in his lap. His expensive-looking suit fitted him perfectly, but what drew Vic’s attention was his face.
His eyes. They were dark, catching pinpricks of light.
Vic was being studied.
Whoever this guy was, he was old. And intelligent. Not only that, he was dangerous.
Vic took a breath. “Well, you’re not Fielding.” No trace of a tremor in his voice.
He frowned. “And how would you know that?”
Vic managed a shrug. “I’ve seen him.”
“I doubt that.” The man stilled, eyebrows arched. “Wait. Of course. If Saul Emory saw him, that means you did too.” He smiled. “My name is―”
“Theron,” Vic blurted, recalling his conversation with Orsini.
It had to be.
Theron arched his eyebrows once more. “Very impressive indeed.”
“Now tell me why I’m here.”
That thin smile was as creepy as his voice. “You’re about to be a pawn in my ongoing game. An important piece, in fact.” His eyes glinted. “You’re going to provide me with the perfect excuse to declare war on the Fridans—legitimately.”
Vic didn’t like the sound of that at all.
“They’ll find me,” he ground out.
Theron shrugged. “Anything is possible.” He leaned forward, his dark eyes focused on Vic. “But all they’ll find is a corpse.” Vic froze, and Theron chuckled. “Oh, not immediately. We have to prove you’re still alive, don’t we? And you will be—until your time runs out.”
Vic wished his thoughts could reach his mates, but he had no idea where he was, or how far away they were.
He was still going to try.
Saul. Crank. Can you hear me?
CRANK WANTED to throw his fucking useless phone across the tent.
“He isn’t answering.”
“I got Aelryn to call Orsini at the archive,” Horvan told him and Saul. “Vic never showed this morning. Orsini received a handwritten message telling him Vic had changed his plans. Orsini thought nothing of it—until Aelryn phoned.”
“Vic’s in danger, and we don’t have a fucking clue where he is.”
“They wouldn’t keep him in Rome.” Saul paced.
“And what makes you think that?” Crank demanded.
“I don’t know , all right?” Saul’s face was mottled. “I’m as much in the dark as you are. But my instincts tell me they’ll want him closer to home. And while we have no idea where home is… what’s the most powerful nation in the world?”
“The US?” Crank frowned.
Saul nodded. “So doesn’t it stand to reason that it’s also the nation with the most shifters—and therefore the most powerful leaders? Aelryn’s here. Why shouldn’t the bad guys be here too?”
“If we could hear him, we’d know that for sure,” Crank surmised. “I don’t think even Vic can send his thoughts from another continent.”
“That’s what I’ve been waiting for all freaking day.”
Crank forgot his mate was an ex-Delta, a military leader, a man no one would want to cross, and put his arms around him. “We’re gonna find him, you hear me? He’s coming back to us.”
Because the alternative was unthinkable.
Saul’s forehead met his. “I want him back so badly,” he whispered.
“I know, babe.”
Horvan coughed, and Saul glanced at him. “Breathe one word of this and—”
He smiled, his eyes glistening. “One word about what?” His phone buzzed. “It’s Aelryn.” He clicked Answer. “Hey. You’re on speaker. I’ve got Saul and Crank here.”
“Okay, there’s something you need to know. The Gerans have contacted Fridan leaders to say they’ve taken Vic hostage.”
“But why?” Saul hollered. “Why him?”
“There’s more. They say they’ll exchange him for a Geran that we have in custody.”
“Then fucking exchange them!” Crank bellowed.
“You don’t understand.” Aelryn’s voice was strained. “It’s all lies.”
“Do they have him or don’t they?” Crank was in serious danger of losing his shit.
“They have him—they sent a video—and before you ask, he looked fine. Not a scratch on him, okay? But… they’re demanding we release Valmer Cooper.”
“And who the hell is he?” Saul sounded as close to the edge as Crank.
“He’s one of their leaders. And there’s only one problem. We don’t have him—the Gerans do.”
Horvan’s eyes widened. “Come again? You just confused the fuck outta me.”
“They’ve taken him because his mate is a Fridan leader.”
Horvan expelled a long breath. “A leader… who’s one of your team. Would he be the same leader who informed them of our impending attack? Now I get it.”
“Well, I don’t,” Saul retorted. “Why are they offering to exchange Vic for this Valmer? How can we exchange someone we don’t even have?”
“Exactly.” Fatigue laced Aelryn’s voice. “And if we say, ‘Hey, we can’t do that because we don’t have him’ it’ll be seen as a refusal.”
“Giving them the excuse they need to go on the offensive—to launch an attack.” Horvan sounded pissed.
“Then what’ll happen to Vic?” Crank’s gut was in turmoil.
“That we don’t know,” Aelryn admitted.
Horvan peered at his screen. “Aelryn, I’ll call you back. Milo’s trying to get in touch. This could be important.”
“I’ll be here.” Aelryn disconnected.
Crank started pacing until Saul grabbed him. “Hang in there, okay?”
“Doin’ my damnedest, but fuck, it’s hard.”
Just let me hear Vic’s voice. Just once.
Horvan held up a hand, and they fell silent. “Milo, what’s the news?”
“There’s been a change of plan with regards to Fielding.”
Crank stilled, his gaze locked on Horvan.
“He’s still coming, right?” Horvan’s brows knitted.
“Yes, and his ETA is still Friday afternoon. But it seems he’ll be leaving here Sunday morning.”
“You mean he doesn’t wanna be around when we attack.” Horvan snorted. “Too bad he’s gonna get a front row seat.”
Dellan burst into the tent. “Milo,” he called out. “Dellan here. What about my dad? Do you have any idea when they intend taking him out?”
“No, but—” There was a pause. “—would you say Fielding is the kind of man who’d want to be there when they pull the trigger?”
Horvan let rip with another derisive snort. “Fuck yeah. Let us know if there are any more developments, Milo.”
“I will. And I’ll email you with the final arrangements.” He hung up.
“That fucking bastard.” Saul’s mouth was an ugly line.
Horvan scraped his hand over his bald head. “Okay. We go in Saturday morning as planned, and we take Fielding alive. Because if anyone will know where Vic is, it’s him.” His phone buzzed again, and he groaned. “Now what?” He stilled. “It’s Aelryn again.”
“Something else you need to know,” Aelryn said quickly. “Once this is over, we’ve got another mission—to find the contents of a tomb. I’m not going to explain it all now, just to say this could be crucial to every shifter on the planet.”
Crank jerked his head to stare at Saul. What the fuck?
Saul shook his head. Beats me. But Aelryn doesn’t strike me as someone prone to exaggeration.
“Aelryn, if you hear any news about Vic….” Crank’s throat tightened.
“I’ll let you know, of course.”
Horvan pointed at Crank. “You’re our best sniper. Fielding’s your target. But you’ll be using tranq bullets, okay? We want that fucker alive.”
“What makes you think he’ll talk?” Aelryn asked.
Dellan’s grim expression was so unlike him it sent cold inching through Crank.
“We’ll make him talk.”