“Kovacs?” The ground shook with my name, the pounding of boots, the feel of arms, warmth, and... life.
Before I slid under.
When my lashes opened this time, I wasn’t in my room. Instead, I lay in a bed in what looked like a clinic, tubes dripping into my arm, my head pounding.
“You’re awake.” A woman peered over my bed. I knew right away she was fae. She was dressed in flower scrubs, and her silky golden blonde hair pulled back in a tight bun, her eyes the color of amber.
Tree fairy.
“What’s this?” I tugged at the things going into my veins.
“Keeps you hydrated.” She gently tugged them out of my arm. “You are perfectly healthy, and your vitals are fine, but when they brought you in, you were in a comalike state. It was really odd. I’ve never seen anything like it.” She shook her head. “He practically tore this place down trying to get to you. Had this base all up in a tizzy and demanded someone watch over you. It was the only way he would go quietly.”
“Warwick!” I bolted up and heard the sound of metal scraping metal. My wrist was cuffed to the side. I stared at it with a chilling sense of déjà vu—the time I woke up in Killian’s clinic, after being shot in the back, my wrist manacled to the infirmary bed. “Uncuff me,” I sneered at her.
“Calm down.” She took a step back.
“Un. Cuff. Me. Now,” I seethed, my arm yanking on the metal.
“Kovacs.” His voice growled from the doorway, my eyes darting to him. Seeing his huge muscular physique filling the entire doorway hitched the air in my lungs. I knew he wasn’t really there, as I could see him chained in a cell, Ash in another one next to him, the smell of rot and body odor filling my nostrils. He sat with his back against the wall, his arms on his knees, letting the world believe the bars could keep someone like Warwick Farkas in. He dropped his head back against the wall, his lids shutting briefly, his chest exhaling oxygen, like he could breathe fully again.
Relieved.
“I’m coming. I’ll get you out,” I said quietly, though no one could hear me.
My voice opened his eyes again. He didn’t move or respond, but his gaze burned into me. Stripping me bare. Shredding my skin, ripping through my soul. I could feel him everywhere.
Intruding.
Invading.
Consuming.
What scared me the most was I had missed it.
Him.
The realization popped me back to the clinic, cutting off the link with a hitched gasp deep in my lungs.
No, Brex. He is not yours to miss or want.
“Dahlia, give us a minute.” Mykel’s voice drew my focus to the door. Instead of Warwick, my uncle filled it. His stature was so much like my father, it made me turn away, blinking away the jolt of pain.
The healer nodded, stepping out of the room, leaving us alone.
Mykel sighed heavily, strolling around the room, his hand rubbing his graying brows.
“I don’t know what to do with you, Brexley.”
“I get that a lot.” I fiddled with the shackle around my wrist.
“You are my niece, my brother’s only child. My blood.” He turned to me. “But it means nothing in the world where we live. I’ve seen brothers betray brothers, and mothers turn their backs on their children. Blood means shit. Loyalty and allegiance are what are important here. We are family because we all believe in the same goal. And anyone who makes me question their devotion to our cause, I can’t have here. Doubt is death. You understand that?”
It really wasn’t a question, but I dipped my head in acknowledgment.
“When someone doesn’t tell me everything, it also makes me start wondering what else they are hiding. As the leader, I need to know everything.”
My throat tightened. I felt the pills still wedged deep in my pocket, digging into my hip. My secret felt like it had a heartbeat, pounding and squirming, ready to tattle on me. Information was life in a world where no one trusted. Everything was a weapon or leverage.
“I am putting a lot on the line with you because you are the only family I have left.” Mykel slid his hands in his dark cargo pants. “I don’t like being in this position, but I want to believe you are on our side.”
“I’m not a spy for Istvan or Leon if that’s what you think.” I brushed my tangled hair away from my face with my free hand. “But you know that.” I tipped my head, understanding Mykel wasn’t in his position for nothing. “You know I am being hunted by my own people.”
He dipped his head. “What a great setup, though. Send in my niece, pretend to be after her while she burrows deep into the enemy lines.” Mykel strolled over. “Trust is earned here, not given. I don’t fully trust you, Brexley. And after what happened this morning and who I have in my prison, I don’t see how I can.”
My lips rolled together, knowing I had just one path I could take here. Give him information he’d want. A way to have him trust me. The last thing I needed was more enemies, especially from the largest rebel party in the Eastern Bloc.
“I can prove it to you.” I lifted my head, my gaze meeting his. “But I need Warwick and Ash released.”
“No.” Mykel shook his head. “Out of the question.”
“You know the rumors about Warwick Farkas?” I curved an eyebrow. “They don’t even skim the surface of the truth. He could break out of the tiny prison you have him in and kill almost every person here in minutes. The only reason he hasn’t is because of me.” The declaration felt strange on my lips, but somehow, I knew it was true. “He is keeping his word to behave... but the moment I say, he will level this place.”
Mykel’s lids lowered. “Is that a threat?”
“It’s a fact.” I shrugged.
“You don’t even know where he is.”
A sinister smirk hinted on my lips. While I smiled at my uncle, I stood in front of Warwick again, his eyes watching me like a cat.
“Care to stir up a little fuss for dramatic effect, Farkas? I’m trying to make a point.”
Warwick lifted his brow, deliberately pushing up to his feet like a predator getting ready to attack. “I could probably do one better than that, princess.”
“Oh shit.” Ash’s attention pinged from Warwick to the empty spot where Warwick looked before standing up. “Brexley’s here? Are you talking to her now?”
Warwick didn’t look away from me or answer, his intrusive gaze scraping my skin.
“What do you want us to do?” Warwick’s voice climbed up my vertebrae, gnawing on the bone.
“Come find me,” I taunted Warwick with a wink before cutting the link.
Facing my uncle, I tugged on the cuff holding me to the bed. “Better agree, because in about two minutes, you are going to have a huge pissed-off fable stomping through those doors.”
“What are you talking about? He is locked up.” Mykel peered at me like I was nuts until he heard bellows and the ruckus coming from down the hall.
“Stop!” I heard men and women ordering. Things crashed to the floor, the alarm overhead going off, this one different from the one this morning. They probably had different alarms for various situations.
“Get. The. Fuck. Out. Of. My. Way.” Each syllable ground into my bones, like he was marking me. Not even using the link, it was like I could feel him near, his presence slamming into the room before he did.