It was late when Dom and Lety arrived back at the farmhouse.
They came from the south, traveling across the fields that stretched out behind the modest homestead. Dom had already drawn up his glamor, while Lety padded along at his side in lupine form. Had anyone been watching they would have assumed they were witnessing a man and his abnormally large dog walking through the middle of nowhere in the dead of night. It was a little weird, but not as weird as the truth.
When the pair made it to the gate that separated the fields from the yard, they were surprised to see the kitchen light still blazing. They gave one another uneasy looks—it was awfully late, and they had expected everyone to be fast asleep.
"Maybe someone needed a midnight snack?" Dom offered.
Lety puffed a breath out her canine lips and sniffed the air. Her ears flattened back.
"Or maybe not." Dom broke into a run.
Across the yard and up the back steps, they slammed into the door and found it locked. Dom raised his fist to knock, only to have the door swing open before he could.
May stood, a silhouette framed in a rectangle of warm light. It took a moment for Dom's eyes to adjust, but when they did he was taken aback by what he saw. May's shoulders were tense and hunched high. Her eyes were red and lined by dark shadows. Her expression was murderous.
"Oh," she breathed, her face softening only a touch. "It's just you." She turned and stalked back into the house.
"Maybes?" Dom called uneasily after her. "Is everything okay?"
Lety trotted into the kitchen, her nose trained close to the ground. She sniffed around a chaotic tableau—a tipped kitchen chair surrounded by lengths of rope. A steak knife lay discarded in the middle of the floor, droplets of blood had dried on the linoleum and between the teeth of the blade. Dom took it all in with a rapidly expanding sense of dread.
"What happened here?"
May didn't answer. Dom followed Lety into the living room and there they found May, kneeling in the middle of the floor. Around her were the many maps and blueprints they had reviewed with the rest of WIND. Lety crept carefully through the mess and sniffed at May.
"Stop it," May growled, though her voice lacked any real conviction. Lety's nose trained in on May's left hand and gave it a couple tender licks.
Sighing, May sat back on her haunches. "I'm fine. It's just a few knicks. Can you transform back? I need to talk to you."
Lety looked at Dom, her brows twitching. With a throaty sound not unlike her human grumble, she trotted out of the room to change back into her human form in private. Dom replaced her at May's side and took her hand in his. She didn't look at him, keeping her eyes focused on the blueprint of Sovereign University's research labs that lay in front of her instead.
"May, what happened?" Dom turned her delicate wrist, surveying the angry red rope burns that encircled it with concern. Small cuts sliced into the flesh of her fingertips and palm. His mind went back to the knife.
"The Loyals came and took Em. WIND got their kid back and bailed." May nodded her head in the direction of the kitchen. "They left me tied up on a fucking chair then took off."
Dom wasn't sure he was following. "Who did? The Loyals?"
"No, Connor."
"Why the fuck would he do that?" Lety said, pulling her shirt over her head as she marched back into the room.
May rubbed her tired eyes and groaned. "Because he's out. They all are. They got what they wanted and now I'm on my own to get Em back."
"No, you're not," Dom said. He tugged softly at her shoulder, twisting her so she had no choice but to face him. "We're going to help. Right, Lety?"
Lety let out a slow whistle. "Hoo boy, wait 'til Grant hears about this. He's gonna shit himself."
"Lety," Dom hissed.
"Yeah, yeah. Of course we're going to help. That should be a given." She got down on the floor and scanned the mess. "So, what's the plan?"
***
Em came to without realizing that's what had happened. Her mind was vacant of all thought, her vision swam nauseatingly. Everything was loud—so loud. The world around her swayed as though she were suspended above the earth on a string.
Through bleary eyes, she peered up at the people who surrounded her. Some of them were strangers, but two of them were familiar—she just couldn't figure out why.
One of them, a woman, met her eyes and frowned. She gestured at one of the strangers, a man who sat closest to Em, and shouted something over the roaring of the world. Em dragged her gaze to him and waited for him to reply. She watched without feeling as he reached out of view and retrieved a small bottle and syringe. He filled the syringe and stuck it into her arm. Em was vaguely aware of the sharp poke into the soft flesh where her arm creased, but there was no time to think about it.
All at once, the world was quiet and Em was asleep once more.
The next time Em awoke, the overwhelming loudness was gone. In its place, a tinny ringing echoed through her brain, muffling everything else. Wherever she was had an aggressive brightness to it and it hurt to open her eyes too much.
"Sir? She's coming around."
Who? Em tried to speak, but her mouth was impossibly dry.
"Is she lucid?"
"She will be. Just give her time."
The voices had a far-off, drifting quality about them, as if they were traveling through water. Something was pressed against Em's lips as a hand gently tipped her head back. Tepid water flooded her mouth and she swallowed gratefully.
It took another moment and a few more sips but slowly Em came back to herself. A headache replaced the ringing in her ears as sensation returned to her body. She tried to shift, but her arms didn't obey the command. When she glanced down, she found her arms secured at her sides by thick restraints. Her eyes scanned the rest of her body to discover she was laying in what seemed to be a gurney. The room was busy with activity as scrub-clad people—were they nurses? Doctors? Both?—bustled around her.
A shadow loomed over her.
"Welcome back, Starborn."
Everything came back to Em in an instant. Wyndam Aviar. The farmhouse. May. The Loyals. Gaten.
May. The ring. Her proposal.
Em's eyes flashed to her hand to find it bare. Emotion swelled in her chest—they hadn't even had a chance to get the ring on her finger.
She closed her eyes and took a shaky breath in.
"Look at me." Wyndam's voice was like an ice-pick to her brain.
The last thing Em wanted was to bend to this man, but she knew her position was precarious. She was hardly in a position—nor the condition—to fend for herself. Begrudgingly, she turned her eyes to where Wyndam stood at her bedside.
Wyndam's head tilted as he took her in, a mix of curiosity and disgust at play on his face.
"How did you happen?" he mused. With a rough hand he gripped her chin, tipping her head back to get a better look at her eyes. "Your abilities are Starborn but your presentation is... all wrong."
Gee, thanks, Em thought. She knew what he meant though—she lacked the tell-tale golden eyes of the Stars. Even the astromancers of which Rue was part—the descendants of the original Starborn humans—still carried this trait through their bloodlines, despite having none of the powers a direct Starborn like Em did.
When she didn't speak, Wyndam's expression grew dark. "I asked you a question."
Em's mind raced. Shaking off the lingering drug-induced grogginess, she cobbled together a plan. It was too soon to know exactly what the Loyals wanted from her, but if two lifetimes and one previous experience in their labs had taught her anything, they were going to try to see what they were up against first.
The last time she had been in the Sovereign University research labs, she had been Audrey. Along with Jeremy, Connor and Priva, she had undergone a gamut of cruel medical testing as the Loyals sought to understand what it meant to exist because of the wishing star. It had been a horrific experience, and while the thought of having to endure it all again filled her with fear, she knew she would survive. She had once already, after all. She had to now.
But this time was different—she was so much more than she had been the last time. Though they had seen some of what she was capable of, the Loyals truly had no idea what they were dealing with.
Em wanted to keep it that way for as long as possible. Em made up her mind: she wasn't going to give Wyndam or his cronies anything to work with. She would lure them into a false sense of security until she saw her opportunity; a weakness she could exploit. Then she would free herself, even if it meant destroying everything in her path to do it. She only had one thing to lose now: she had to get back to May.
Wyndam sniffed, releasing her chin with a sharp shove. He was smart enough to know she was defying him.
"Have it your way," he drawled, sounding almost bored. He stood from his chair and turned to address the medical team who had frozen in place, awaiting his command. "Begin with the biological tests. We'll move onto her abilities once we have a better sense of what she's made of."
"We're running her blood work now," said a graying man who had the rest of his young team beat by at least a couple decades. He slid his finger along the screen of his tablet. "We've got a CAT scan and MRI lined up, then we'll run her against the chemical reactivity scores. Should I place an order for a new cardiac-mounted data monitoring unit?"
Huh, Em thought, trying to keep her face impassive. That's what those devices are actually called. Note to self: if you ever see Marina again, tell her she sucks at naming shit.
Wyndam looked back at her over his shoulder. Cool malice shadowed his dark eyes and Em shuddered despite herself.
He noticed, and it made him smile.
"No, that won't be necessary," Wyndam said.
A hard lump formed in Em's throat. She swallowed dryly.
Being shackled to another device would have been bad.
But in this case, being denied one altogether was probably much, much worse.