Claire hurried down the steps in a flurry of pounding feet. “Nina!” She dropped to her knees and gently rolled the girl onto her back. The arm stretched above her head plopped down on her chest lifelessly. Nina’s pretty face twisted in pain. Her mouth opened wide in a silent scream and her eyes glazed over, losing focus before fluttering shut.

“Nina!” Claire tapped her cheeks. “Come on. Stay with me.”

Her eyes remained shut as she rasped, “I think my arm’s broken.”

Claire eyed the arm across her chest. It rested at an awkward angle, oddly limp. Scanning the rest of her slight body, Claire asked, “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

Nina’s lips barely moved as she spoke. “My whole body hurts… from the stairs.”

“Stairs?” Claire’s gaze traveled up the steep incline of steps. “You fell down the stairs?”

Her tongue darted out to wet her lips. “Pushed.”

“Pushed?”

A push down those stairs could have killed her. If she only suffered a broken arm and a couple bruises, she was lucky.

Claire hesitated to touch her in fear of aggravating her injuries, but she wasn’t exactly able to get to a phone and call for help. She might have no choice but to move her.

She smoothed a palm over Nina’s forehead. Despite the basement’s chill, the skin felt clammy. “What happened, Nina? Who pushed you?”

“Hit you. And stabbed you with a—”

“Sshh, I know.” Claire leaned close to Nina’s mouth to better hear, asking, “Do you know who it was?”

Just then the door above opened and a beam of light shot down on them. A dark figure stood at the top of the stairs, outlined by the light.

Finally, the figure stepped down, revealing his face.

“I believe you’re asking about me.”

Gideon splashed water on his exhausted face and lifted his gaze to his reflection. Bloodshot eyes stared back at him, the haggard lines of his face hardly recognizable.

He had not slept during the last three days. He had returned to Woody’s countless times and scoured other clubs, all known hangouts of lycans. No sign of the bastard anywhere. Or Claire.

He pulled the hand towel off the bar and rubbed it vigorously against his face. Tossing the towel on the counter, he headed downstairs. Opening his fridge, he went for a power drink, hoping the sugar and caffeine would revive him. After gulping down a bottle, he grabbed his keys and headed for the door. Ready for another day of searching. Even if the odds were against him, it kept him from going mad with thoughts of Claire… suffering at the hands of Darius.