"You don't?"

Cian rubbed a broad finger up and down his straight nose. "What?"

I scooted backward. The chair legs squealed as they scraped across the hardwood floor, and he tensed, preparing to spring after me if I dare tried to escape.

"Want to kill me? Because that's not really the vibe you're setting."

Think Bria. How many horror films had I watched with this exact plot? Girl held hostage in the woods with a homicidal maniac. There was that movie last month... I recalled the ending with a scowl. It had been one of those depressing endings where the killer won and added her to his collection in the backyard. Not helpful at all, right now.

"You could make this easier on yourself by telling me everything you know, and then we can reassess the need to silence you."

"I know you think you're helping, but you're not."

A cold sweat broke out across my forehead, and I dropped my head between my knees. Why hadn't I grabbed my gun this morning? When did I ever work without my gun? Perhaps, I could cut myself some slack considering my body went nuclear on itself in the shower, but they had trained me to be alert in any situation—injuries included. This was a rookie mistake, and it was going to cost me my life.

"Just," I panted, wishing I could remove my gloves and air out my hands, "Out of curiosity. Do bullets hurt you?

His phone rang, and he answered it without taking his eyes of me, but whatever the caller said on the other end had to have been important. He jumped to his feet, raised a brow at me in a silent command to remain where I was, and went into the bedroom, leaving the door open so he could still see me.

Deciding I no longer gave a flying fuck if he knew I was looking for a way out, I gave him a finger wave that turned into the bird before I grabbed the windowsill and lifted. Stuck. On closer inspection, it was nailed shut. How often did this sick asshole use this cabin to hold people hostage?

"You're not going to get out of here," Cian said, coming back in the room. He slid his phone into the front pocket of his dark wash jeans. "Come into the bedroom."

All the blood rushed to my lady parts, but I managed to shake my head no. I might not be able to control my body's strange desire for him, but at least my brain hadn't completely abandoned me.

"I'm not sleeping with you, so unless you want to add rape to your laundry list of sins, assuming it's not already on there, you're just going to have to go ahead and kill me." The horrified look on his face should have clued me in on the fact he was offended; instead, I was offended that he looked so appalled at the idea of sleeping with me. "Which really sucks for you because I'm great in bed."

Turning red all the way to his slightly pointed ears, he hooked his thumb toward the room and said through gritted teeth, "Get in that room now."

"I shouldn't have added the last part, right? It made it too tempting," I mumbled, skirting around him and running into the room. I had one hand on the windowsill when he jerked me backwards and pinned me to the bed. Thrashing, I brought my knee up, hoping to hit any sensitive part of him. "What don't you get about no, buddy?"

Cian grunted when my knee went into his ribcage. He straddled me, pressing his pelvis against mine as he grabbed both my wrists with a single hand and dragged my arms over my head. Instinct kicked in, and I bucked against him, hoping it would dislodge him, but it was an epic mistake. All it did was reveal the man didn't have a single flaw. Like how fair was it to look like that and have a giant dick. That was hard and growing harder as he looked down my body, his eyes caressing my breasts and lingering on the gentle swell of my now exposed stomach.

With a grunt, he snapped a cuff on one wrist and threaded it through the headboard before cuffing the other one. Then, he dropped a hand on either side of my body and appeared to gather himself before sliding off me and the bed.

"Kinky," I said and rattled the chain. "Where's the blindfold?"

"Gods save me." Cian looked at the ceiling. "Forget the blindfold. You need a gag."

Shrugging was difficult in the position, but I tried. "It's not my favorite. I've been told my mouth is my best feature, but whatever you're into."

There was an almost imperceptible dip of his eyes to my lips, but I caught it and smirked. The smirk went away when he walked toward the door without another word.

"Are you serious? You can't leave me in here."

"Something has come up, but when I get back you and I are going to have a chat."

"Cian, you asshole," I shouted, shifting so I was on my knees and could pull against the iron rods. It made the headboard bang against the wall, and the entire cabin shook from the force of every strike. Outside, an engine roared to life, but it quickly faded away.

I spent the next several minutes trying to find the most comfortable position on the bed. Sitting on my knees didn't work because I was too tempted to lean forward and rest my head on the headboard, which meant risking an echo. And there would be plenty in this room. Everything was old, and if Cian did what I thought he did here, the energy buzzing in every nook and cranny wouldn't be pleasant.

Sitting on my butt worked out better, but if he was gone for any length of time, my arms would go numb.

"Why didn't I get some sort of cool power, like super strength? This is useless." I drummed my heels on the bed like a toddler. "Shit."

What an epic screw up I was. If I was still on the police force, I would kick myself out for making such a mess of things. Sure, I'd solved the murder in the most basic sense, but I'd gotten my client killed and put myself on the list to be next. And I couldn't shake the feeling my involvement in this extended beyond what Laura had told me. It didn't explain the connection between myself and Cian, even if I was uncertain what that connection was. Surely, it wasn't coincidence that he had such a conniption when saw my face and accused me of wearing a glamour. Was there someone in his past that I was connected to?

Like my mother? I worked spit into my mouth and swallowed hard. It had been a long time since I'd thought about my mother beyond the occasional passing thought. Finding her had been an obsession when my gift first manifested, but dead end after dead end eventually discouraged me from continuing the search.

And I wasn't going to lie. For a fleeting moment, I thought maybe Molly was my mother. What were the chances she'd given up a child for adoption and was involved in the supernatural world, and I was a human orphan who had been dragged into the supernatural world? There was a moment of panic because that would mean I was the person Cian was looking for, but the math didn't add up.

Molly married Harold Kincaid two years before I was born. Why would she put a child of his up for adoption, unless they were concerned about my safety? Hybrids weren't treated well, from what June told me, but it was even more of a reason for them to keep me close. However, last I checked, seeing into the past wasn't a vampiric trait, and I didn't have a thirst for blood. After seeing Laura's spikes, I called it a point in my favor that Molly and Harold weren't my parents.

Deep in thought, I missed the sound of a car coming up the drive. Perfect timing too, because my arms were seconds away from going numb, not that it would matter when I was dead. In fact, I scooted closer to the headboard and prepared to hook my ankles around the bars. If he wanted me out of here, he was going to get another fight, and it had absolutely nothing with the fact that I enjoyed being manhandled by him.

The screen door squealed and slammed. Seconds ticked by. I frowned. His footsteps sounded different—not so heavy and far too slow, almost as if he was taking his time in the other room. Was he on another phone call? The bedroom door eased open, and the tip of a pistol appeared, followed by the deep brown forearms of my former partner.

"Jac," I gasped, going limp with relief. "How in the hell did you find me?"

He gaped at me while he holstered his weapon. I had to look a sight—ripped, blood-stained shirt, mascara streaks, and handcuffs. "Bria, are you okay?"

Clanking the cuffs together, I widened my eyes and batted my lashes. "Does it look like I'm okay? Get me out of these."

Five minutes later, I rubbed the sore spots on my wrists as Jac bundled me into the car. He wanted to do a sweep of the cabin, but I insisted we call for backup first. It would have been too suspicious to tell him to give it up all together. Cian and his crimes would not fall under human jurisdiction. This would be one case that would remain open, and I prayed he would let it go for his own safety.

"How did you find me?" I asked, inching toward the warm air blasting from the vents while trying to keep a lookout in case Cian returned suddenly.

Jac scrubbed his jaw and peered out the window. It was an evasive tactic if I ever saw one. "I still have your location in my phone."

"What?" I screeched. "Is that something I can turn off?"

"Why would you? It saved your life, which is funny because I remember telling you clearly to give up this case."

"And I think I replied with something like fuck you." His jaw clenched. "Why did you come looking for me?"

"I went to Laura Kincaid's house. Her front door was wide open, no sign of forced entry, and she wasn't there, but you know what was there?"

I chuckled nervously. "My car?"

"Your car. But you weren't there either, and when you didn't answer the 800 calls and texts I sent you—"

"Cause I blocked your number."

Jac slammed his hand on the steering wheel, sounding the horn and making me jump. "Blocked my... Whatever. I checked your location and saw you were in bumfuck nowhere and followed it out here. You're lucky he didn't kill you."

"I know, but Jac—"

"Do you know what he did with Laura?"

She's dead. It's what I wanted to say. It would save them hours of manpower searching for her, but another murder would only make them dig their heels in. The supernatural world didn't play nice when humans got too close to their secrets, and they would do anything to cover this up—including silencing officers. Maybe June knew someone on the inside who could cover all this up? They had to have liaisons, right?

"She wasn't there when I got there. The door was open, and I investigated. Don't remember much until I woke up cuffed to the bed."

"So you didn't see the person who took you?"

"No. I heard him, but he covered my mouth with a rag before I could turn around. Chloroformed me." Gods, it hurt to lie—not because I cared about the dishonesty, but I hated making myself look even weaker in front of him.

Blue lights flooded the car, and someone rapped on the window. My former partner rolled it down and advised the officer to secure the perimeter. "Bria, give your statement to Officer Jenkins, and then take my car and go home."

"Jac, wait—"

His knuckles whitened on the door's latch, and he sounded strained when he asked, "What?"

"Please be careful."

My concern was not welcome. Jac's eyes went cold. "I'm a professional. I'm always careful except for when you get in the way of things and fuck with my head."

"Th—that's not fair." He scoffed. "Are you seriously blaming me for all of this? You're the one who got me kicked off the force. You're the one who broke up with me! You're the one who keeps getting in my way while I try to do what I was always meant to do—help people. And you're going to tell me I'm fucking with your poor head."

People were looking through the glass. Some officers reached for their weapons, but Jac held up his hand to ward them off. Leather creaked as he leaned over the console and shoved the keys into my hands.

"Keep making yourself out to be the victim, Smith. I tried to get you help, and you refused. That's on you."

Sniffling, I shook my head. I would not cry. I would not cry. The first tear rolled off the tip of my nose. "No, it's on you for not believing me. You were supposed to believe in me."

"Go home, Bria. Lock your doors. There will be an officer stationed outside your building."

He slammed the door and stormed into the chaos swarming around the cabin, but I stayed in the passenger seat, staring at the key in my hand and doing my very best to scrub the last ten minutes from my head. Finally, I moved to the driver's seat and backed out of the drive, ignoring the glares and stares as I drove away.

It was a joke, the idea that someone from the force would actually do their job and try to protect me. And even if one of the rare, good officers took the job, it wouldn't matter. Cian could get through anyone they sent, and there was no doubt in mind—he was coming for me.