“Rache!” he cried cheerfully, tossing his blond curls out of his eyes to show his He-Man bandage. His cheeks were red and his eyes were glinting. “I take it we’re going to plan B? He’s inside. I can smell crap for brains from here.”

Heart pounding, I vaulted over the downed Were in fatigues blocking the door, my nose taking in the stale coffee in the tiny kitchen, the forty-year-old mold in the bathroom, and the pine air freshener fighting the stale musk in the tiny living room festooned with weapons and a two-way radio frantically demanding that someone pick up. My muscles tensed at the scent of blood under the masking odor of chlorine. Nails clacking on white tile, I padded through the narrow hallway, searching.

There was a closed door at the end of a dark hallway, and I waited impatiently for Jenks. He reached over me, pushing it open with a squeak. It was dark, the dim light coming from a dust-caked high window of wire-embedded glass. The air stank of urine. There was a rickety table cluttered with metal and pans of liquid. Nick was gone, and my hope crashed to nothing.

“Oh my God,” Jenks breathed, his breath catching.

I followed his eyes to a dark corner. “Nick,” I whispered. It came out in a whine.

He had moved at the sound of Jenks’s voice, his head lolling up, his eyes open but unseeing from under his long bangs. They had tied him against the wall in a crucifix position in a cruel mockery of suffering and grace. His clothes had burned patches, singed hair and red skin showing past them. Black crusts of blood marked him. His cracked and bleeding lips moved, but nothing came out. “I will not…” he whispered. “You can’t…I will…keep it.”

Jenks pushed past me, cautiously touching a knife to judge the silver content before picking it up. I was stuck in the threshold, not believing it. They had tortured him. They had hurt him for that damned statue. What in hell was it? Why didn’t he just give it to them? It couldn’t be money. Nick was a thief, but he loved life more. I think.

“You can’t do anything here, Rache,” Jenks said, his voice catching as he started to saw at Nick’s bonds. “Go keep an eye on the front. I’ll get him down.”

I jerked when Nick began shouting, clearly thinking they were at him again, calling my name over and over.

“Knock it off, crap for brains!” Jenks yelled. “I’m trying to help you!”

“My fault,” Nick moaned, collapsing to lean forward against his bonds. “He took her. He should have taken me. I killed her. Ray-ray, I’m sorry. I’m sorry…”

Shaken, I backed out of the room. They hadn’t told him I was alive. Sickened, I turned tail and bolted, nails sliding on the tile. I tripped on the man at the door, rolling into the yard. The sun struck me, jolting my horror into the beginnings of anger. Nothing was worth this.