a problem in his mind. “Don’t know. The bite mark speaks for itself, though. And she had a fair amount of bruising on her arms. It had to have been an animal. Vamps wouldn’t dare trespass here.”
My breathing hitched. Vamp.
Elias was right, most vampires wouldn’t dare cross witch-kind. They’d have a war on their hands if they did—and one they couldn’t win. We outnumbered them two-to-one. But there was one vampire who would dare.
One who already had.
Draven.
6
Adrian
“Sorry,” Atlas grunted. “There’s not much more I can tell you.”
It felt strange sitting in Atlas’ house now. The connection to the pack, the pull to obey him, the need to please was all gone. Nothing kept us here, and that solitary fact buoyed me. I could walk out in the middle of our conversation and he couldn’t demand I sit back down. It somehow made it easier to come to him so soon after our dismissal.
“We were a little more focused on freeing everyone, and the witches involved didn’t exactly walk out to welcome us.” Atlas leaned forward, orange light sparking in his eyes. “What are you looking for, exactly?”
I glanced at Cal, waiting for direction. He shook his head, the slightest movement, and took the lead. I was grateful; after so long under Atlas’ rule, I couldn’t shake my habits as quickly as Cal seemed to.
“Neither one of us remembers our time in that place, just like the rest,” Cal explained. “Whatever they injected us with… We were hoping to get any clues, no matter how minor they might seem. Did Draven bring any new information last night?”
He raised his eyebrows, eyes darting between the two of us. “You’re investigating it.”
“We’re doing what we can to help Harper find answers,” Cal replied. “Not only did she take our capture as a personal offense, but she also feels that, since the person or people responsible are witches, she’s obligated to expose them for what they are. Take them down from the inside.”
Atlas snorted and sat back, crossing his arms. “Quite the girl you got yourselves. Does she always take things so personally?”
“Pretty much.” I shrugged, fighting back a smile I felt at the thought of her.
He grunted, a note of amusement threaded into it. “She’s young, but she’s got spirit, and she’s certainly not cut from the same stock as the rest of her kind.” His eyes roamed over us, wary but fond. “I may not understand the bond itself, but I suppose I can see why you two were the ones it roped in.”
“So, what did Draven report?” I asked impatiently, ignoring whatever he was trying to imply.
Atlas wasn’t a man used to being ordered around, so it was a minor miracle he didn’t snap at me. “They’ve finished combing through the remains of the warehouse. Any paper files were destroyed, the lab equipment and filing cabinets melted almost beyond recognition, and the sole computer was damaged beyond recovery.” He let out a long breath. “Whatever they were doing in there, that explosion destroyed all but what we took with us—the knowledge that it was obviously a witch.”
“That doesn’t narrow it down much, then.” I groaned and rubbed the back of my neck. “Guess we’re still at square one.”
Cal stood and held out his hand. “Thanks for talking to us, Atlas.”
He shook it and followed us to the door, leaning in the frame. “Blood.”
“Sorry?” Cal asked, glancing back over his shoulder.
“Under the monkshood, it smelled like blood in there,” he explained, his gaze distant as he stared at a point just over our heads, the morning sunlight turning his eyes into pools of flame. “Most of you were covered in it, multiple scents threading through the room, but there was something dark about some of it.” He focused on me again. “Dark like the magic your witch used to find you two.”
Harper hadn’t detailed everything about how she’d found us, but we knew whatever she’d done had left her feeling tainted. Her feelings had blasted through the bond, mixed with the relief at having us back and happiness that we were in one piece. If Atlas was suggesting the witch used dark magic—blood magic—then I simultaneously had questions and some potentially useful information for Harper.
The door clicked shut and Cal shook his head, brushing his golden brown hair off his forehead. He was overdue for a haircut—we both were—but it seemed like such a mundane thing to worry about compared to everything else going on around us. We got a few stares