And then all four of them are gone.

Holy fucking crap.

******

Twenty minutes later, Zeth’s shouts are ringing up the stairwell outside the apartment. The door is still hanging off its frame in long, shattered splinters and both Pippa and I, despite some joint-wrenching efforts to resolve the issue, are still tied up like complete morons.

Zeth barrels through the door, alone, chest heaving, and simply looks at us. “What the…?” He appears to be lost for words. He hurries to me first and cuts through the zip tie that’s locking my wrists together with the knife I gave Pippa to defend herself with. Fat lot of good it did her. She dropped it as soon as Charlie’s boys broke through the door. I would never have expected it from him, but Zeth pulls me into his arms, holding me tightly to his chest. I’m so shocked I can barely breathe. The fear and anxiety from the past hour by no means vanishes, but it definitely wanes a little. I suddenly feel very, very safe. I can hear Zeth’s heartbeat slamming in his chest; he’s freaking out big time.

“Where’s Lacey?” he rumbles.

I’ve been dreading this bit. Absolutely dreading it. How the hell can I tell him all of this in one go? It’s too much. He’s going to lose his mind. “She’s—gone,” I mumble into his T-shirt. “Charlie took her.”

Zeth pulls back. hands on the tops of my shoulders, avoiding my wounded arm, which is absolutely killing me. Having my wrists tied behind my back hasn’t done much to help the healing process. “He did what?” he says.

“He took her with him. We can get her back, though. He’s going to the hospital to see the Duchess.”

I think this is what it would be like waiting for a nuclear bomb to go off. Zeth’s whole body starts to tremble; his arms are locked rigid by his side, and I can tell it’s coming any second now. He’s going to go supernova.

“Whoa, looks like I missed the party. Am I too late to join in the fun?” a voice asks behind me. The words may be joking, but the tone is far from it. I know the voice and I can’t believe, on top of everything else that’s going on, that this is happening, too.

I turn around and there he is, like some freaking walking tattooed Hugo Boss advert. I spin back to Zeth. “Really? Really? You brought Rebel?”

“He came for Cade,” Zeth snaps. He still looks like he’s about to light up the Seattle skyline, but I think we’re at DEFCON 2 instead of 1 now; Rebel’s arrival appears to have forced him to get a grip.

My brother-in-law steps over the shattered door, giving Pippa a curious glance. “You seem to have a thing for keeping people tied up in your apartment,” he says to Zeth.

“Another minor setback,” Zeth replies. “I’m not gonna be able to help you with Cade. I have to go get my sister back.”

My stomach lurches. He said it; he used the word. Sister. She must have told him. He must have figured it out. But how? I’m too stunned to say anything, and by the look of her open mouth, so is Pippa. Rebel, on the other hand, doesn’t have the same problem. “You’re the one that’s fucked up my game plan with Julio, buddy. You removed my one chess piece from the game. That means it’s on you to help me get my boy back.”

I have no idea what Rebel’s talking about. Zeth scowls at him—he’s about three seconds from smashing this place to pieces and Rebel laying it on thick isn’t helping. I need to calm him down or there’s going to be some serious fireworks. I walk up to Zeth and I place my hands on his chest. I’ve found that before with patients—even the smallest physical contact with another person can bring their panic or anger down a good three notches. “It’s going to be fine. We’re going to get both of them back. Don’t worry.”

He looks down at me and it’s like the focus of his eyes sharpens, as though the blinding wrath that overcame him has cleared a little and he’s noticing me for the first time. His eyes narrow, and I realize what he’s looking at. His right hand comes up to my face, his fingertips touching my split lower lip.

“What happened to your face, Sloane?” And then, whispering, “What the fuck happened to your mouth?”

This is going to be bad. This is going to be really bad. I don’t really want to tell him, but he has to know. “Charlie did it.”

“Charlie did it how?” Zeth’s head tips to one side, his frown growing deeper. “He hit you?”

I’m about to say yes—I feel disgusting enough as it is without telling Zeth what Charlie did—but Pippa beats me to it. “He kissed her. He forced his disgusting tongue into her mouth and I had to watch while he did it, the sick fuck. Now can someone please untie me?”

The whole room goes deadly silent. Zeth just stares at my lip, his body shaking, and I feel even more violated than I already did. Zeth looks horrified. Oh my god, he thinks I’m tainted now. He thinks I’m freaking soiled or something. I suck my bottom lip into my mouth, trying to hide the evidence. He flinches, staggering back three paces. That’s when Michael shows up. He’s breathless, panting, his suit jacket missing.

“Where did they go?”

“The hospital,” Pippa says softly. From the expression on her face, she’s realizing what she’s done by opening her big mouth just now. Zeth backs away from me another few paces. He looks numb; he reaches into his pocket and tosses a set of keys to Michael.

“The car I stole the other night is still in the basement. Get rid of it. Take Rebel and fetch Medina. Go help him get Cade back.”