“I am a man who is willing to use whatever methods are necessary.” Bas grimaced, indifferent to the fact that Kaede had left the room and he was now alone with one of the most dangerous Sentinels in the world. “Unfortunately.”
“Serra.” Fane held out his hand, his teeth clenching when she hesitated. Goddammit. She was allowing her wounded pride to put her at risk. “Please.”
“Fine.” With an audible huff, she crossed to place her fingers in his hand. “I just want out of here.”
“We’re going,” Fane assured her, his gaze trained on Bas as he took a step backward.
Bas folded his arms over his chest, making no effort to block their exit. “She leaves this building and she dies.”
Fane hesitated. Goddammit. He didn’t like the man’s expression. It said that he knew something that Fane didn’t.
“You can try to stop me,” Fane bluffed.
“I won’t have to.” The bronze gaze rested on Serra’s pale face. “The toxin is already in her system.”
“Toxin?” Serra breathed. “What toxin?”
“It was injected into your system when you touched the locket.”
Serra held up her hand, glaring at the pinprick wound visible on the tip of her finger. “Oh, shit.”
Fane was moving with a blinding speed, grabbing Bas by the throat and lifting him three inches off the ground.
“You bastard,” he rasped. “Give me the antidote.”
“No.”
Fane squeezed his fingers. “Then you’ll die.”
“Wait, Fane.” Serra was abruptly at his side, her heart pounding so loud he could have heard it without his enhanced senses. “What’s the toxin?”
Bas glanced toward her, his face expressionless despite Fane’s crushing grip. “Belladonna.”
Serra frowned. “That’s it?”
They all knew the healers could easily cure her. Bas hissed as Fane’s fingers dug even deeper into his flesh.
“The toxin doesn’t matter,” he choked out. “It’s how it was delivered.”
Fane felt as if he’d just been hit upside the head with a shovel.
Shit. He should have suspected the truth the minute he caught sight of the tattoo of lines on the man’s neck.
Long ago they had represented a kill. Each line equaled one death.
“Assassin,” he muttered, releasing his hold.
Choking the man wasn’t going to force him to reverse his spell. And for now Fane needed the high-blood alive.
He would have to delay his pleasure in ripping out the son of a bitch’s throat until he was certain Serra was out of danger.
“What does that mean?” Serra demanded, trying her best to hide her fear.
Fane moved to stand directly in front of her. It would be easier to lie. To soothe her with a vague assurance that everything would be fine.
But Serra wasn’t a woman who would appreciate his efforts to shield her. Hell, she would accuse him of patronizing her.
She would want the truth.