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I eyed the amber liquid as it cascaded down the sides of the tumbler. “Nothing.”
“What about Gael and Ryan?”
Keir, who was pacing a hole into the rug, said, “Both the Sionnach and Iolair clans have heard nothing.”
Finnan threw back what was in the tumbler before pouring himself another. “Mannix?”
“Haven’t heard back,” Shay replied. “Although, given how spectacularly you rejected his daughter, I don’t suppose we can count on them as our allies anymore.”
I turned when the sound of the giant front door opening and closing echoed through the room.
“It’s just me,” someone called from the darkness.
Torin. Thank fuck. He stepped into the room, looking at us all.
I took a step forward but stopped when Finnan placed his glass down with a thump and walked to the other man. For a long minute, he simply stared into Torin’s dark eyes before pulling him into a tight embrace—hugging in a way I had never witnessed before. Lowering my weapon, I stared at the two men. With his hand still on Torin’s shoulder, Finnan pulled his head back to stare at the other man.
His voice was low. “Are you okay?”
“Aye.”
Finnan pressed their foreheads together briefly, then stalked back to get his whisky. He threw the remaining liquor back and leaned against the kitchen counter as if that display of emotion had never happened. When he spoke again, his voice was back to being cool and unaffected. “Where the fuck have you been?”
Torin swallowed audibly. “Making my way back here.”
“Where were you?” I asked. “Where the fuck is Sloane?”
Torin’s dark gaze flickered in my direction, and he swallowed roughly once more. My shoulders tightened. “I put her into the back of a Rover idling at the rear of the restaurant. I realized too late that—”
“Realizedwhattoo late?” I demanded, my anger beginning to boil over.
I could feel Finnan’s suspicious eyes on me but ignored the scrutiny.
Torin hung his head. “It wasn’t one of ours.”
“You put Sloane into a car you didn’t recognize?” My hands raked through my hair. “Fuck!”
“Who the hell did it belong to?” Finnan demanded, still eyeing me. Making a mental note to reel in my emotions, I bit back on every single one of my protective instincts.
“I don’t know. It was dark. I couldn’t see the driver.”
“It was fucking clan Fiach,” Finnan spat, hurling his whisky glass across the room. It smashed into the plaster wall, leaving an amber stain. “It had to be. We need to storm their fucking compound and get her back.”
“Finnan,” Keir said, trying to pump the brakes on his revenge train. “We don’t even know if it was them.” He gestured to Torin. “Torin even said he doesn’t know who it belonged to.”
Finnan rounded on his Chief, his nostrils flaring. “Then fuckingfindout where she is! I want that bitch back, and I want her backnow. Nobody steals what belongs to me.” Scooping up his phone, he marched to the door. “I’ll be at the fucking club blowing off some steam.”
I looked at Keir for guidance, who jerked his head in Finnan’s direction. “Do your job, Warlord.”
TWENTY-FOUR
SLOANE
The next timeAisling came to me, she was wearing a long, cream-colored couture dress—complete with a deep slit up the side—and heels encrusted with crystals. With her blonde hair perfectly styled, she peered down at me under a smokey eye, red lips, and an annoyed slant of her painted mouth. She was eyeing the hoodie with disdain like she found it personally offensive.
I sat up, having no idea how much time had passed. Shoving the hair from my face, I stared back at the blonde beauty, trying to figure out what we were going to fight about in this round.
“Who gave you that?” She flicked her fingers in the direction of the sweatshirt I was using as a makeshift whole-body blanket.
