“Well, and then there was the fact that you had Lassiter driving at the time,” V said dryly. “That would have freaked me out just as much.”

“I’m fucking serious, V.”

“I know.”

“Where are we going to put him?”

V shook his head. “Depends on how long the Bastard’s passed out.”

“I want to work on him, Vishous.”

“We’ll see, my brother. We’ll see.”

Or, in other words: abso-fucking-lutely not. The aggression rolling out of the brother’s pores, even as Tohr tried to make it like he was joe calm-and-in-control, was as big a red flag as anyone ever got.

As they fell silent, V put his hand inside his leather jacket and took out a hand-rolled. Lighting the thing with a red Bic, he exhaled some smoke and cracked the window so he didn’t gas his brother.

Urge to kill aside, Tohr had raised a good goddamn question—where the hell were they going to put their prisoner? There were plenty of interrogation rooms in the training center—the problem was, they were of the table-and-chair variety, the kind of thing that had been used, for example, to talk to Mary, John Matthew, and Bella when they’d first come to the facility.

Not luxurious, but certainly civilized.

Nothing that was kitted out for torture.

Yet.

Good thing his love life provided him with ready access to all sorts of straps, buckles, chains, and spikes. And yeah, he was probably going to need some of his larger equipment, too.

“I’ll take care of it,” he said.

“What? Xcor?”

“Yeah. I got this.”

Tohr cursed softly like he was jel. But then the brother shrugged. “That’s a good thing. He’s dangerous—it’s like having a serial killer in the house. We’re going to want some seriously strong locks.”

Dead bolts weren’t going to be the half of it, V thought. Not even close.

When Mary woke up, she hadn’t a clue what time it was. Lifting her head off Rhage’s bare pectoral, she looked around and was surprised to find that both of them had fallen asleep with the recovery room’s overhead lights on.

Shoot, she hadn’t replugged all the machines. After Rhage’s little orgasmic interlude, he’d refused to stop holding her, and she must have passed out against his warm, muscled body. Clearly, Ehlena had figured things out, though—the monitors themselves had been removed. And yes, her hellren was still very much alive, his chest rising and falling evenly, that wonderful ba-bump, ba-bump, ba-bump of his heart a true testament to his health.

Closing her eyes, she winced as she thought back to the bullet wound, the blood he had been coughing up, that horrible—

“Hey, beautiful one.”

As he spoke, she jerked her head up. His half-lidded, blue, blue eyes were so arresting, she wanted to stare into them forever.

“Hi,” she whispered.

Moving her hand over, she stroked his cheek, feeling the growth of his blond beard. “You need a shave.”

“Do I?”

“It’s sexy, actually.”

“Then I’m throwing out all my razors. Quick, help me to our bathroom so I can do it now.”

She chuckled, then got serious. “How’s your eyesight?”

“What eyesight.”

“Still blind?”

He made a hrrumph sound. “Like it matters? You’re here and I can hear you just fine. I can feel you, too.” Rhage’s big, broad palm rubbed her shoulder. “Hey, I have an idea. Let’s go up to our rooms, and after we cancel my subscription to the Dollar Shave Club, we can hit the Jacuzzi. After a bath and a half, we can get in bed and see what comes up. I owe you at least one good ride, remember—and then there’s the vig. Ohhhh, that vig—I have a lot to make up for.”

Mary laughed a little.

“What,” he said with a frown. “What’s wrong?”

Pushing herself up from him, she cracked her back on a stretch. Shoved her hair away from her face. Pulled the collar of her shirt into place so it wasn’t choking her.

“That bad, huh.”

With a grunt of pain, he grabbed for the control buttons, and made the mattress angle higher so he could sit up more properly.

“Talk to me.”

As she moved down to the foot of the bed and tried to find the words, Rhage recoiled. “Whoa. Are you—why are you crying?”

“Jeez, am I?” A quick pass of her palms across her cheeks and she found wetness. “Wow. Yeah, sorry about that.”

“What’s going on? Do I need to kill something for you?”

It was the bonded male’s first response to anything that upset their shellan, and before she could help herself, she whispered, “The death’s already happened, actually.”

“Huh?”

For some reason, she thought back to that night, over two years ago, when Rhage, V and Butch had gone and killed a murderous hellren so that Bitty and Annalye could live.

“Bitty’s mom died last night.”

“Ohhhh, shit.” Rhage sat all the way forward on his own, like he was half a mind to jump out of bed even though there was nowhere to go, no attack to defend her from. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

“You were kinda busy dying at the time—”

“You should have told me. Jesus, I made you jerk me off—”

“Stop it. I loved that. We needed that.”

As his handsome face grew unbearably tight, and he crossed his arms over his chest like he was pissed at himself, she arched up and kissed him on the mouth. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Caring about her, too.”

“How can I not. What can I do to help?”

Mary sat back and blurted, “I’ve missed you.”

Rhage patted the air between them like he was looking to touch her and she put her face into his hands, letting him feel her cheeks and her jaw, the sides of her throat.

“I’ve missed you, too,” he said in a low tone. “We’ve been . . . kind of parallel lately. Not apart, but parallel.”

“I’m sorry. I know. I’ve been wrapped up in everything at Safe Place and that really isn’t fair—”

“Stop it. You don’t ever need to apologize to me for loving your job or wanting to be all-in on what you do. I’m the last person who’ll ever not get that. You’re amazing there, an incredible person who helps everybody—”

Mary dropped her eyes, even though technically there was no stare for her to evade. “Not always. God, not always.”

“Tell me. Mary, I don’t mean to be demanding . . . but you really gotta talk to me.”

As she remembered everything that had happened, her eyes teared up again. “I, ah . . . I got the call at my desk that things weren’t going well with Annalye and I took Bitty out to Havers’s. I really thought . . . well, when my mom passed, I was with her, and that was important to me—especially later, you know? I mean, when I think of her, and I miss her . . . there’s a certain solace that comes with knowing that she wasn’t alone when she died. That . . . that she had been with me at the start of my life, and I had been with her at the end of hers.” Mary took a shuddering breath. “I mean, Bitty’s young . . . there are so many years ahead for her to grapple with it all, you know? And what’s been important to me as an adult, kind of seemed like something that would be important to her later. Anyway . . . I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

“What did?”

Mary covered her face with her palms as the memory sliced through her consciousness like a knife. “When Bitty . . . oh, God, when Bitty took her mom’s hand, the female died right then and there. Bitty thought she was responsible. It was . . . awful. Not at all what I wanted for either one of them.”

I killed her! I killed her!

“Maybe her mahmen was waiting for her.”

Mary wiped her eyes and dropped her arms in defeat. “That’s what I tell myself. Not that it really helps—”

“Mary, when I was shot on that field and dying, I was waiting for you to come to me. It was the only thing I held on to. When you love someone and you’re leaving, you wait for your person to come—and it takes a lot of energy, a lot of focus. I’m telling you, Mary, I was waiting for you because I wanted to make my peace with you, but I couldn’t hold on for much longer—and although we lucked out and you saved my life, the reality was that I prolonged my suffering just to have that moment with you.”