Chapter 6

Aria

"Let me go!"

I commanded him, not the least bit of fear in my voice.

But the Lycan King didn't seem to care about my tone. He didn't even look at me. He simply threw me over his shoulder like a sack of flour, his arm clamping down over the back of my thighs like steel bars.

"Put me down, you psychopath!" I pounded my fist against his armored back. It was like hitting a tank.

"Stop squirming, Viper," he growled, the vibration rumbling through his chest and into mine. "Unless you want me to drop you fifty stories."

He walked toward the shattered window, the wind whipping my hair into a frenzy.

"Wait!" Lucas’s voice came from the corner. He was trying to crawl up the wall, blood trickling from his lip. "You can't take her! She’s...she’s my mate!"

The man stopped. He turned slowly, the glass crunching under his boots, and looked at him.

"Your mate." His repeated, his voice dropping. "I don't even care if she's your wife or mother, she belongs to the Syndicate now."

Before Lucas could answer, before 'I' could process what was happening, he jumped.

He stepped off the ledge of the fiftieth floor, taking me with him.

I couldn't even scream since the air was practically ripped from my lungs. I saw the grid of the city spinning dizzyingly below us.

Then, thud.

We landed on something metal. A black rope ladder dangled from a hovering helicopter that had risen silently to meet us.

The man climbed one-handed, hauling me up as if I weighed nothing. He tossed me into the cabin of the chopper.

I scrambled back against the metal wall, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.

"Who are you?" I hissed, looking for a weapon. A scalpel. A pen. Anything.

He climbed in after me and slid the door shut, sealing us in the dim red light of the cabin. He pulled off his helmet, shaking out messy, jet-black hair.

He looked at me with those burning, golden-red eyes. He was devastatingly handsome in a way that promised violence. High cheekbones, a scar cutting through his left eyebrow, and a perfect lips set in a grim line.

"I am Dante Rinaldi," he said, sitting opposite me. "And you, Dr. Vale, are going to save my son."

***

The flight took two hours.

After he'd introduced himself, I didn't ask where we were going. I knew better. The Obsidian Syndicate operated outside the law.

I sat in silence, analyzing him. He was looking at me with the desperate, simmering rage of a father who was out of options.

"You kidnapped me," I said, my voice cold. "That’s a felony. Even for a Capo."

"My son is dying," Dante said, not looking away from the window. "Laws are for people who have time. I don't."

"I don't operate under duress. Take me back, or I will let my scalpel slip."

Dante turned to me slowly. He leaned forward, the red light casting shadows over his sharp features.

"If he dies, I will burn everything you have built. I will turn your tower to dust. I will hunt down every client you have ever saved and butcher them. I will kill your family, then after I'm done, I'll specifically burn you alive."

He paused, his eyes locking onto mine.

"But if you save him...I will give you the world. Money. Power. An army. Whatever The Viper desires."

I held his gaze. I wasn't afraid of his threats. I was empty inside.

"I don't want the world, Mr. Rinaldi," I whispered. "I just want to be left alone."

***

We landed on an island that didn't exist on any map.

The Isola della Morte.

It looked like a gothic nightmare rising from the Atlantic. Jagged black cliffs, stormy waves crashing against the rocks, and a fortress of dark stone perched at the top.

Dante dragged me out of the helicopter and through the massive iron doors. Soldiers in black armor bowed as he passed, but he ignored them, marching straight toward the East Wing.

The atmosphere changed as we went deeper. The stone walls gave way to something more modern. The air became sterile. The smell of the ocean was replaced by the sharp, stinging scent of high-grade antiseptic.

"He’s in there," he said, stopping in front of a blast-proof glass door.

For the first time, his arrogant mask cracked and I saw fear in his eyes.

"He has a blood curse. His energy is too high. It’s burning his organs. Every doctor says he has days left."

I smoothed my suit jacket, putting my mask back on. The Viper.

"I’ll take a look, but I make no promises. If he’s too far gone, I’m not wasting my energy." I said indifferently.

Dante growled, but he swiped his key card anyways.

The door hissed open and I walked into the room.

It was freezing inside.

In the center of the room was a small hospital bed, surrounded by monitors.

I walked toward the bed, snapping on a pair of fresh latex gloves I found on the tray.

"Let’s see what we’re dealing with," I muttered, detached.

I stepped up to the railing and looked down.

The boy was tiny, lost in the white sheets, his skin pale and translucent. Dark veins ran across his neck and arms, and he had a mop of messy, jet-black hair that contrasted sharply with the white pillow.

My heart gave a strange, painful lurch and I frowned, pressing a hand to it.

What was wrong with me?

I shook off the feeling and reached out, my fingers hovering over his face to check his temperature.

As if sensing the movement, the boy stirred, his eyelids fluttering open.

He turned his head slowly on the pillow, his gaze locking straight onto me as his small hand reached out.

"Mama."