Chapter 68

ELENA

The door creaked open, and I nearly choked on the fear that rose in my throat.

I didn’t move from where I stood next to the cot, Aiden was just next to me, his body limp and convincingly still. The metal vent above us swung open just a hair—barely noticeable unless you were looking for it.

Pierce stood in the doorway, framed by yellowish hallway light, his silhouette long and easy. Too easy. He didn’t walk like someone worried about what waited inside.

His eyes landed on me. On us.

“Finally awake,” he said, voice soft, almost pleasant. “You’ve been out a while.”

I forced my breathing to stay steady, one hand resting protectively on Aiden’s back. “Who are you?”

He stepped in, the door falling shut behind him with a sharp click. “Not a friend.”

I wanted to laugh with how obvious that particular statement was. I almost wanted to laugh anyway. I felt hysterical with fear.

His eyes flicked down to Aiden. “He’s still out?”

I stiffened. “You drugged us.”

“I could have just killed you,” he said lightly.

That shut me up. I didn’t trust my voice to sound calm if I opened my mouth again.

Pierce crouched, his gaze scanning Aiden’s face. His expression shifted from curiosity to calculation. I could feel it—the wheels turning behind his smile.

“How much did you give him?” I asked, throat dry.

“More than enough.”

I swallowed hard. If Aiden had actually drunk that juice…

“Do I know you?” I asked quietly.

If I kept asking questions, I could keep his focus on me and not on the ductwork grate that hung at an awkward angle just a few feet to his left.

He tilted his head, smile sharpening. “No. But I know you.”

Every nerve in my body went cold.

“What do you want with us?”

He stood, brushing invisible dust off his pants. “Him, I’ll ransom. Someone will pay to get a noble heir back. Especially one from Moonstone. I need to pay for this place.” He gave the room a lazy once-over. “Amongst other things.”

He took a slow turn around the room, and my heart was in my throat. Would he see the open grate? Would he notice?

“And me?” I asked, my voice wobbly. I could barely swallow.

He paused at the door, hand on the knob. “I haven’t decided.”

Go, I willed, keeping my eyes steadily on him. I wouldn’t look at the duct.

He opened the door and stepped into the hallway. I barely breathed.

“Let me know the moment the boy wakes up,” he told the guard posted outside.

The door shut again.

I didn’t move for five long seconds.

Then I exhaled shakily and touched Aiden’s shoulder.

“Hey,” I whispered. “Time to go, sweetheart.”

His eyes blinked open, alert and full of mischief. “Did I do okay?”

“You were perfect. We just have to be very, very quiet now.”

He nodded solemnly.

“They took my phone,” I whispered. “I need you to go get help. Can you do that?”

He gave me a smug little grin. “Yeah. Totally.”

I brushed the hair from his forehead. He had no idea what I was really asking of him. He was brave—but still a kid. My kid. The thought of letting him out of my sight made me sick.

But it was our only shot.

I boosted him up, helping him wriggle back into the open vent. “Go all the way to the end,” I said softly. “It’ll probably lead to the HVAC system. That’s usually on the roof or behind the building. If you can get outside, find a police officer. Or resort security. Anyone who smells like a wolf—not a rogue—you run to them.”

He nodded. “Don’t worry, Mom,” he said with a lopsided grin. “I’ll bring help.”

I watched his sneakers vanish into the ductwork, then sat beneath the vent, trying not to cry.

AIDEN

The metal was colder than he expected.

Aiden crawled forward on his elbows and knees, trying not to let the duct rattle too much beneath him. The air inside smelled like dust and old hotel rooms—mixed with the chlorine still clinging to his skin from the pool.

That was probably good. He didn’t smell like himself. He smelled like the water.

And the rogues hadn’t caught his scent yet.

He turned a corner, breathing as quietly as he could, listening carefully before moving. He paused at the first grate he reached and peeked through.

Below, a small room. Empty. Just crates and a folded table.

He kept moving.

The next vent was harder to reach. He had to belly crawl over a tangle of insulation and wires. But when he got to it and looked down, he froze.

Four men sat in the room, hunched over a table. One had a scar running from his temple down into his beard. Another cleaned a gun. A third sniffed the air.

Aiden’s heart stopped.

They’re wolves.

He could tell by their scent. Too sharp. Too wild. And definitely not pack wolves.

Rogues.

He held perfectly still, barely breathing. One of them cocked his head, as if listening.

“Did you hear that?” the scarred one asked.

“Just the air conditioning kicking on. Would you calm the hell down?”

But the guy kept sniffing. Aiden tried not to move. The air wasn’t flowing—nothing was blowing through. That was lucky. Really lucky.

He counted to ten. Then twenty. Slowly—inch by inch—he crawled past the vent and kept going.

His arms were starting to ache. His knees too. But he didn’t stop.

Be brave, he told himself. Like Mom.

The next grate opened into a quiet room. Smaller than the others. The air was cooler here, and it didn’t smell like sweat or smoke—just dust and old paper.

He pressed his face to the metal slats and peered through.

A desk. File cabinets. A single overhead light humming faintly. The carpet below was worn but clean. There were no people, no voices, no flickering monitors or open food wrappers like the other rooms he’d passed.

But the best part?

A phone. Sitting right on the desk. One of those clunky corded ones with a blinking red light and a keypad built into the base. It was plugged in.

Aiden’s breath caught.

Okay. Okay. You can do this.

He tried the grate—holding his breath as he twisted the latch. It creaked faintly, but didn’t resist. Not locked.

He pushed it open slowly, lowering the panel until it hung downward like a tiny trapdoor. The desk sat almost directly below him, maybe a few inches to the side.

He adjusted his position and eased forward, letting his legs dangle out first. He had to grip the edge of the vent opening with his fingertips, lowering himself carefully so he didn’t just drop.

His sneakers brushed the carpet.

Then—

Thump.

The sound echoed louder than he expected in the quiet room. His stomach twisted.

He froze.

Nothing. No alarm. No voices. Just the low hum of the light above and the distant creak of building pipes.

Still okay. Just move fast.

He stepped toward the desk, heart hammering in his chest, reaching for the phone with trembling fingers.

That’s when he heard it.

Footsteps.

Heavy. Approaching fast.

Right outside the door.

His hand jerked back from the phone. He didn’t even think—he launched himself toward the desk, diving into the open leg space just as the handle turned with a sharp metallic click.

The door creaked open.

Aiden squeezed himself tight beneath the desk, hands pressed flat against the carpet, body curled as small as it could go.

His breath caught in his throat.

The sound of footsteps on the carpet. Slow. Measured.

Someone was inside the room.

And he was trapped.