“Where is she?” his voice grew rough, menacing.
Brown’s eyes met his. “He killed her.”
Finn shook his head. “No.”
“I saw it.” Brown’s nod was jerky. “Saw her.”
Finn glared at the man. “Saw it?” His voice rose. “But didn’t stop it?”
“I’m sorry. I couldn’t.” Brown’s voice broke.
Finn wasn’t listening. His wolf wanted to take its frustrations out on Brown—the last person with her. His wolf needed an outlet, someone to blame. And Brown was there, apologizing for letting Jessa go. But deep down, Finn knew Brown couldn’t have stopped Cyrus. His bodyguard was a human. Protecting Jessa was Finn’s responsibility. He had failed her. “She wasn’t there. Are you sure?” Why would Cyrus have taken her body? Why not leave her there, proof of the damage he’d done. An invisible noose seemed to tighten around his throat.
Brown nodded.
If she were dead, he would know. He’d feel it. Wouldn’t he? Blood roared in his ears, rejecting Brown’s
words. This was wrong.
But the smell of her blood. Too much. He swallowed, leaning forward to brace himself against the side of the bed. Better to hold on to the anger. Anger, he could work with. Fury, he could handle.
“Finn, he’s baiting you.” Brown’s voice was stronger. “He wants to bring you to your knees. This is about control—”
“Control?” Finn stared at the man. His wolf raged to get out, crumbling Finn’s defenses. Jessa was gone. Cyrus had taken her. And Finn would make him pay for it.
Chapter Fifteen
Jessa sat on the cot against the wall. Her legs were drawn up and hugged tightly to her chest, her cheek pressed to her knees.
“Still hurting?” Ellen asked, carrying in a tray with food.
Jessa nodded.
“I brought soup and crackers.” Ellen placed the tray on the small table against the far side of the room. “Come on, Jessa, you need to eat something. The baby needs you to eat something.”
Jessa frowned at her. Ellen denied having a hand in drugging her, but Jessa didn’t know who to trust. She’d fallen asleep in her own clothes and woken up in a hospital gown with an IV in her arm. She’d promptly ripped the needle out and stayed huddled in the corner of the stone room for however long she’d been there.
The place was small. A bed, table, and chair. No clock. But someone had provided a dog-eared copy of a baby name book.
“Yes, eat.” Cyrus followed Ellen inside. “Leave,” he said to Ellen, never looking her way. He turned the chair backward and straddled it, resting his hands and chin on the top. His pale gaze pinned her, unblinking and unwavering.
Jessa wasn’t aware of Ellen leaving, only that they were alone, and the room felt incredibly small and cold.
She shivered.
“You’re cold?” he asked, unmoving.
She shook her head.
“You’re frightened of me.” He smiled, one eyebrow arching.
Her heart was racing.
“You are appealing, Jessa Talbot. Weak, vulnerable, and soft. If you weren’t his…” He let the words hang there. “But you are. Not just his plaything, but his mate. A human.” He chuckled. “A strong human. Your scar, his mark, looks painful.”
A shiver slid over her. He’d seen her scars? He’d seen her bare skin? Her hands smoothed the hospital gown down. She didn’t feel very strong.
“Talk to me,” he said, his voice deceptively soft. But Jessa heard the demand.