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My thoughts drift back to Jaxon. I wonder how he’s doing. Whether Xavier has talked his ear off yet. Whether Colton remembered to make him eat. Not that I need to wonder about that one. Colton had promised, and he takes promises seriously. Especially when they involve people he cares about.

It’ll be late by the time I get home. Assuming everything goes according to plan. I glance at the clock on the dash. Then back at the darkening road. Will he still be awake? The thought catches me off guard. I can’t remember ever wondering that about another person. Will he be curled up in the window seat with one of his books? Knitting in his lap? Will he be asleep in our bed? Waiting for me to walk through the door?

Home. The word surfaces unbidden. Followed immediately by the image of Jaxon looking up when I enter the room. An unfamiliar sense of anticipation settles in my chest.

My thoughts of Jaxon are interrupted as we pass through the gates of the compound. The familiar sight greets me. High fences. Security lights. Layers of protection separating this place from the rest of the world. Our safe haven. The place where monsters are brought when justice fails.

Declan is already waiting for us. He pushes away from the wall he’d been leaning against as the car rolls to a stop.

“I hope this asshole doesn’t put up too much of a fight.” He circles toward the back of the car. I climb out and stretch my cramped legs.

“Thought you liked it when they put up resistance to your charm.” A grin tugs at my mouth.

Declan snorts. “That was before I had Xavier.” The smile on his face is immediate. The kind that only appears when he’s thinking about his husband. “Now it just pisses me off.”

I huff out a laugh. But the words stay with me. Because I understand them now, before Jaxon, I wouldn’t have. I would have assumed Declan was exaggerating. Being dramatic. Yet lately I find myself becoming impatient with things that never used to bother me. Anything that keeps me from getting back to Jaxon. The realization should be unsettling, not because I dislike it, but because I don’t.

Henry groans as Declan hauls him from the trunk. He’s conscious enough to make noise but still too drugged up to stand on his own. His legs buckle the second they hit the ground.

“Useless,” Declan mutters.

With no more effort than if he were lifting a sack of concrete, he throws Henry over his shoulder and starts toward the building. Henry lets out another groan. Declan ignores him.

“Do you think just throwing him down the stairs would kill him?” he grumbles. “This fucker needs to go on a diet.”

I snort. “Complaining already?”

“He’s heavier than he looks.”

“You complain every time.”

“Because people keep getting heavier.”

Uncle Duncan shakes his head and continues walking. Declan shifts Henry higher on his shoulder with an irritated grunt.

“I’m serious. If this guy had eaten one less cheeseburger, my night would be significantly better.”

“In a little while,” I say, following them inside, “he won’t have a reason to go on a diet.”

Declan barks out a laugh.

“Fair point.”

We enter the cold, sterile interrogation room. The harsh fluorescent lights overhead cast everything in stark white. There are no windows. No decorations. Nothing to soften the room’s purpose. Just steel, concrete, and silence.

Declan carries Henry to the metal chair bolted to the center of the floor and dumps him into it. The impact earns a pained groan. His head lolls forward. He’s still not fully awake. Uncle Duncan and I move without speaking. The familiar click of metal echoes through the room as we secure the cuffs around Henry’s wrists and ankles. He gives a weak tug against them. Pointless. The restraints aren’t going anywhere.

“Here.” Declan holds out an ammonia ampule.

I take it and snap it between my fingers. The sharp chemical scent immediately fills the air. Stepping closer, I wave it beneath Henry’s nose. His reaction is instant. His head jerks back, and a strangled cough tears from his throat. His eyes squeeze shut before snapping open. Confusion clouds his expression as he blinks against the bright lights. Then awareness slowly begins to settle in.

He looks around the room. At the restraints. At Declan. At Uncle Duncan. Finally, his gaze lands on me. And for the first time since this started, I see the beginnings of fear.

“What the fuck! Do you—” Henry’s words are cut off abruptly. His head snaps to the side, and he sputters in shock more than pain. Declan doesn’t give him time to recover.

“Let’s save some time, shall we, Henry?” His voice is calm. Which somehow makes it more unsettling. Declan grips the front of Henry’s shirt and forces his attention back to him. “We know exactly who you are.” Henry’s bravado falters for a fraction of a second. “We know who you’re connected to,” Declan continues. “For now, that’s irrelevant.”

The room falls silent. The fluorescent lights hum overhead. Henry’s breathing comes a little faster than before.