“Warwick.” I bit down on my lip, feeling him more prominently with each beat of my heart. His tongue slid in deeper, lips sucking and nipping.
“Oh, gods...” I croaked, my body responding, my hips lifting, pushing against his presence.
My lashes fluttered open, my gaze landing on blurred aqua eyes, glinting with hunger, his fingers teasing my entrance.
Lights abruptly flicked on through the room, like morning had just been turned on by a switch. The air was filled with the sounds of men yelling and metal clanking. I jolted with the sudden harshness, my hand letting go of Warwick’s, slicing through our link with a cleaver. My body screamed with anger, being torn from bliss and plunged into fear in a second, pounding my pulse in my ears.
Scrambling up to my feet, I stood against the far wall. Armed guards came straight down the row for us, the soles of their shoes pounding across the cement in a steady rhythm. A sound that screamed pain and danger. Dread sunk in my stomach, knowing my reprieve was over.
Unlocking my cell, they ripped open the door, barking orders at me. Hands grabbed me. Cuffs circled my wrists. They heaved me out, practically dragging me down the passage.
“Kovacs!”
My head whirled around, catching Warwick’s eyes. His hands circled the bars.
“Whatever it takes.”
It was not a request.
The cluster of guards hauled me a different way than we came yesterday, the underground passage growing brighter with lights the farther we went, reminding me of the passages Ash and I went down to get here.
My head jerked to the side as we passed another set of cells. This one was filled with children, crammed together, all various ages and races, but all fae. The older ones seemed to take on a parental role, holding the younger fae, who could only express their terror through wails. They were all still children, but they looked far past their years. Their eyes were devoid of hope; they were only surviving because that’s what we did. The will to live was built into our DNA.
My gaze searched the single cage, hoping to see the little girl I had seen on the table when Ash and I came in. The one I promised myself I would help.
She wasn’t there.
I knew it already; there was no way she would have survived, but it didn’t stop the wretched sickness from charring the back of my throat and watering my eyes.
A young boy of barely six stretched his skinny arm through the bars, trying to grab one of the guards, whimpering, “Hungry...”
“Get the fuck back—disgusting, dirty fae.” A guard tugged his baton from his belt, banging against the bars. An older girl with feather-like hair yanked the young boy back quick enough; the club missed hitting him. She pulled him to her, glaring at the guard.
Then the little girl’s eyes met mine, her walls still up, but she watched me with curiosity before I was dragged away from them. Acid gurgled in my stomach with heartache and anger, rage sparking adrenaline into my vessels. The feel of energy pumped off my skin.
We turned down another hallway, a set of doors with a card-only entry next to it.
My throat tightened, struggling to swallow, anticipation grinding down my esophagus. A guard swiped his card, the door opening. I knew in my gut what was on the other side, but I still wasn’t prepared for it.
A wheeze cut up my throat, the sensory overload like a gut punch. The loud beeps, machines humming, and pained cries rammed into my ears. My nose picked up on cleaning products, piss, and body odor, while my sight felt overwhelmed by activity, trying to take everything in.
The dome ceiling above, from which Ash and I had peered down, gave the room a vastness, which echoed all the pain and horrors in the space. It was so different to see it from above, peering down through the glass, than being right in it.
They had twice the tables I recalled from last time, each one filled with fae. Small to tall, skinny to fat, young to old. They were hooked up to those machines, being forced to shift while being drained of their essence. Some fought and cried while the rest lay there, with no life left to give, waiting for the end to come.
The back of the room had even more water tanks, going down another wall in an L-shape. Most were filled with young men, in boxer briefs, floating inside. They were unconscious, covered in monitors and tubes, breathing through a respirator. Fae essence was being pumped into their system.
“What do you think?” Istvan stepped into my eye line, and it took everything in me not to shudder. I was so distracted that I hadn’t noticed him. He flicked his head over his shoulder. “The new and improved way. Only the privileged and exclusive are selected or can afford it. Our waiting list is already a year long.”
I tried to keep my breath steady, my jaw locked shut, not looking at him.
“Come, Brexley, let me show you. Maybe you will see what I am trying to do. What I am creating here.” He motioned me to step forward as he spoke to the guards. “You are dismissed.”
The guards bowed, retreating at his order.
He walked up closer to the tanks, stopping in front of one. My chest squeezed out a noise, my eyes locked on the mostly naked man inside. I knew him. Grew up with him. He was the son of Istvan’s right-hand man, Lieutenant Andor.
Reaching out to a clipboard hanging next to the tank, Istvan read. “David Andor. Age twenty-seven. Diagnosed with stage four lymphoma last year.”
I remembered that. He had to quit the HDF force. It was said he only had months left to live.
“Completely cured now.” Istvan’s attention sat heavily on me, waiting for my reaction. His ego needed me to be awed and enamored. “He is cured of his fatal disease because of me. Living because of me.”
“Is he living, though?” My gaze shot to him. “Even alive, won’t he be under your thrall? Duty-bound to you for his remaining days. And those might be shorter than he thinks.”
“Not so, but isn’t it still such a small price to pay for your life.” Istvan almost shrugged, his tone becoming businesslike. “But this way, we have found they are not thralled, as you put it. They don’t have any of the side effects of the pills, except one.” He shifted on his feet. “The finding of Dr. Rapava’s fundamental theories and experiments on this type of fae to human transfer was good. It has a much higher success rate. Very nearly faultless.”
“Nearly faultless? What does that mean?” I retorted, wiggling my arms still cuffed behind my back. “And I’d think you’d want them obedient dogs to do your bidding.”
“Most people are meant to be footmen. There are merely a select few who are meant to lead through history.” He nodded to the tanks. “And even less who change it.”
“You mean yourself.” I wrinkled my nose. “The rich can afford to save their sons, while the less wealthy become your minions.”
A smile took over his features, making the hair on my arms stand up. “You really would have been a great ruler of Romania. A great asset to me.” He shifted to fully face me. “Andor and his entire family, whatever happens to Daniel down the road, will forever be in my debt. Emotionally as well as financially.”
“Ah, yes, I remember. Better to have those owe you than have friendship,” I repeated a phrase Istvan had said to Caden and me many times. “Friends are never as faithful as a person whose whole world is in your hands.”
A smugness lit up his eyes at me recalling his teachings.
“If only you and Caden had actually listened to my words of advice. Things could have been quite different.”
My lids narrowed on Markos, my intuition sensing a deeper underlying meaning.
“So why do you need me if you have it all figured out?” I nodded to David.
“Because as much as we are advancing, the one weakness in this... they are still dying. David is not the first person we cured of disease to have them die later on. All from a pulmonary embolism.”
“All? Do the Andors know?” I narrowed my view on Istvan. “That he will die anyway?”
“If he dies, it will not be from cancer.”
My teeth locked together. The hatred and loathing I felt for Istvan almost choked me. Lieutenant Andor was an asshole. I hated the man, but what Markos was doing was beyond cruel. He gave them hope—their son back. Only he would be ripped from them anyway, and all they would get was endless debt and forced loyalty.
“It’s why you are so fascinating to me.” Istvan studied me as he would a bug. “I should have taken more notice of Dr. Karl’s tests when you first returned after your stay with the fae lord. I’m paying attention now, especially after what you did in Věrhăza. Oddly, I feel I need to thank the fae lord for giving me such a gift. You might be my miracle.”
“Glad we are cutting the bullshit. You knew I was with Killian before I even returned to HDF. Spied on me. Tried to play me. You even had my death planned out, blaming it on the fae to manipulate Caden.”
“And you finally admit you were in my office that night. Eavesdropping. And stealing from me.”