Page 33 of Sweet Torment

The look Tristan gives the laptop is pure venom. “He’s dead.” He shoves back from the table and starts pacing, a caged wolf in the small room. “So fucking dead.”

The screen goes dark.

“Shit,” Mason curses. “They’re kicking me out⁠—“

“Get it back,” Tristan barks, returning to his chair.

“Working on it.”

I think of the blankness in her eyes. Years ago, she sat on my bedroom floor, chewing on the end of her pen, debating which colleges to apply to. I never told her I’d already decided I would follow her anywhere she went. I wish I would’ve told her how much she meant to me.

I don’t know how I will work past my guilt.

“Back in.”

Bianca’s standing now. She tugs at the ends of her hair, then begins to braid it. I watch, transfixed, as she creates two tight French braids.

“She’s preparing for something,” I murmur.

Megan nods, leaning forward. “Oh yeah. She loves her battle braids. She taught all the girls at the refuge how to do them.”

Guards enter the room and grab her arms. She doesn’t fight. There’s no resistance at all, and that’s more terrifying than any struggle.

“Where are they taking her?” Megan whispers.

“Can you get us audio?” Tristan asks Mason.

“I’m in their system, not performing miracles,” Mason growls. “Video was hard enough.”

The feed glitches, then freezes.

“Goddamn it,” Mason curses, and the screen goes black again. “They’re onto me.”

Tristan smashes his fist on the table. “Bring it back,” he snarls. “NOW.”

“They’re moving her to a new location,” I say. The certainty is absolute, and my heart pounds. Where?

Megan’s phone rings. “It’s Ezra.” She puts it on speaker.

“Helicopter on the roof,” Ezra confirms. “They’re loading her now. We had to stop Owen from hopping the fence.”

“Did you get visuals?”

“Sending pics now.” A pause. “And... Tristan, your father’s here. He supervised the loading personally.”

Tristan’s jaw locks. For a second, he just stares at the wall, then he’s moving again, faster, his hands a blur. “Mason, run the tail numbers as soon as you get Ezra’s photos.”

I lean closer as he cleans up the image of her name tag so he can see the number. “I’m locked out of Barrett systems,” he growls. “Let me try a backdoor.”

Mason’s voice crackles through the speaker. “Got the registration. Private.”

“Wait.” Tristan’s fingers pause, then hammer down. “I’m in.”

We all lean forward as he navigates his father’s company system. He clicks through files until he finds one labeled “TruScent Trial 37-B.”

“What the hell is TruScent?”

Tristan’s face goes pale as he scans the document. “It’s designed to...” He swallows. “To simulate a scent bond where none exists.”