Chapter 28
CHAPTER
TWENTY-EIGHT
Sloane blinked blood out of his eyes. The interrogation room in Solbourne Tower was familiar to him, but for reasons that were momentarily hard to pinpoint, nothing appeared quite as it had before.
That almost certainly had something to do with his head wound.
A dark green trickle of blood ran in sluggish rivulets from his forehead, where an overzealous Patrol officer had slammed the steel butt of his rifle into him.
It was a blow that would’ve made a human’s head explode but for Sloane it resulted in a slight concussion and a laceration that would have to be stitched or healed.
If they even bother, he thought, flexing his arms against the restraints they’d clapped on his wrists. His ankles were locked, too, and bolted to the floor. It was a set-up he’d seen and participated in many, many times in his life, though he’d never been on the shackled side of things before.
Not since he was a kid, anyway.
Sloane stared at the blank wall across from the steel interrogation table. A yawning sort of emptiness had hollowed him out. It left nothing behind — no worry or fear for what was to come.
He’d failed.
He’d failed the most important mission of his life, and now he would pay the consequences for it.
The white door to his left swung open on nearly soundless hinges. Sloane didn’t look. He knew his captain by the feel of the air and the tread of his boots on the smooth floor.
The metal chair across from Sloane’s was pulled back with a terrible screech. Kazimier’s kohl-dark hand seemed huge against the metal seat.
The half orc sat down and laid his forearms on the table. “What the fuck?”
Gaze fixed on a midpoint over his captain’s shoulder, Sloane demanded, “Where’s Cece?”
“You don’t get to ask questions right now,” his captain growled. Snapping his fingers in Sloane’s eye line, he forced his subordinate to turn his focus to him. “You’re gonna explain to me exactly how and why you fucked up so bad, Fortuner, so I can decide what we’re gonna do with you.”
In the midst of the nothingness inside him, an echo of that raw, angry nerve pulsed in his chest. The last he’d seen of Cecilia was when two Patrol officers took her thrashing arms and dragged her kicking and screaming through the m-gate.
She’d fought like the fierce little beast she was, but she didn’t stand a chance against two fully grown and trained elves.
To not know where she was or whether she was unharmed was intolerable.
Sloane’s upper lip lifted over his fangs. “You already know what you’re going to do with me. Tell me where Cece is.”
Kazimier scowled at him. His green face was made of an assemblage of sharp geometric shapes that possessed the unique ability to convey disapproval in the most efficient and painful way possible. “She’s getting treatment for her injuries in a secure location. That’s all you need to know.”
He stared at his captain. An acidic feeling bubbled in his gut, searing all his vital organs in a slow ooze. “Who hurt her?”
“See, I was hoping you could tell me that,” the captain replied. His bulky, leather-covered arms crossed in front of his chest as he leaned backward into his seat. “Because the Sloane I know would never lay his hands on a woman, let alone an arrant who can’t defend herself.”
Sloane’s split lips parted with surprise. They think I hurt her.
He was a danger to her, certainly, by his very existence, but she was still his consort. It went against the building blocks of his biology to intentionally harm Cecilia, as it would for any elf.
As far as he was aware, the Starsbury Protocol wasn’t in place to keep their consorts from physical harm. It was to keep the members of Fracture from going off the rails and harming everyone else.
Too disturbed and confused by the implication to say anything, he stayed silent. Kazimier’s lips thinned.
“Cecilia Marcella Warren,” the captain began, eyes narrowed.
“Server at a local vampire bar. Arrant. No criminal record. Recently submitted an application to the Education Board for a teaching position. Bachelors and masters in education and psychology respectively. Nearly perfect GPA and no tickets, citations, or tax notices.”
The captain paused. Sloane held very still, his expression on lockdown, as the orc examined his face for any sort of reaction. When he got none, he continued, “She’s no one. So I’m dying to know why my most senior soldier decided to kidnap her and flee the territory.”
Speaking through clenched teeth, Sloane replied, “She’s not no one.”
“Clearly,” Kazimier drawled. “But who is she to you, Fortuner?”
They don’t know.
Sloane was stunned. He’d thought at least one of his teammates would disclose what they’d learned. Maybe they’d wait until his forty-eight hours were up, adhering to their unique sense of fairness, but they’d definitely tell the captain.
Except he was beginning to suspect that they hadn’t. Because Kazimier would’ve known better than to imply Sloane hurt his consort, and he wouldn’t have had to ask why he’d been so desperate to escape the territory.
Mind whirling, he dared to ask, “How did you find us?”
“Miss Warren was reported missing by a bartender at The Lush when she missed two consecutive nights of work. Her missing person’s file went into the system at the same time that a group of teenage shifters armed with cell phone photos walked into a Patrol station to report a suspicious encounter with a bruised woman and a masked elf. ”
Kazimier raised his dark eyebrows. “The pictures matched in the system. Obviously, your helmet was flagged. Then the cashier at the rest stop recognized Miss Warren and sent an automatic audio and visual alert.”
He knew the date was a mistake. That didn’t mean he regretted it. If all he got was one, he would cherish it for as long as they kept him alive.
Still, it did sting his pride a bit to have been caught by some teenagers, of all people.
“You’re not this sloppy, Fortuner,” the captain noted, disapproval thick in his bass voice. “You don’t kidnap women. You don’t get photographed. We both know what you get up to in your free time, but you’ve never once left a shred of evidence behind. So what’s different?”
Sloane met his captain’s gaze steadily. His heart raced and his palms had begun to sweat, but his mind was calm. He didn’t have a plan. He only had instinct, and an offer he never thought he’d accept.
Lifting his bruised chin, he calmly announced, “I want to talk to Atria.”