The video went blurry as Ingrid swung her phone camera toward the side and downward. For a minute there was nothing but the vague outline of a person, then the camera came back into focus and Cassie gasped in shock.
The tiny female filling the screen was almost an exact replica of herself. Oh, her hair was a few inches shorter and more golden than silver. And her slender body, which was covered in a casual pair of jeans and stretchy blue shirt, was toned by obvious hours spent in a gym. But her heart-shaped face was precisely the same and if her eyes had been opened, Cassie was willing to bet that they would be some shade of green.
It was one of her three sisters. They hadn’t yet been formally introduced, but the resemblance was too great for it to be anyone else.
“Harley.” Caine answered her unspoken question, his finger pressing the screen to pause the video.
Cassie clutched his arm in horror, frantically studying the image of her sister bound to a chair with silver chains and a heavy silver collar around her neck. She appeared to be unconscious as her head drooped to the side, a thin line of blood trailing down her cheek from a wound to her temple.
“Oh my God, she’s hurt,” she breathed, turning to find Caine watching her with concern. “Is there more to the video?”
“Yes, but maybe you should let me—”
“Play it,” she pleaded. “Please.”
She felt his muscles clench beneath her fingers, but with obvious reluctance he at last pressed his thumb to the screen and the image of Harley was joined by Ingrid as she knelt beside the chair.
“If you want her released unharmed . . .” The female cur smirked. “Well, relatively unharmed, then call me so we can set up a meet and greet. You have twenty-four hours. Oh, and if you’re thinking about sharing this video with your new allies . . . don’t.” She leaned sideways so the camera could catch her hand reaching toward the small bulge of Harley’s belly. “If I even suspect that I’m being hunted, the first to die will be these sweet, innocent pups.” She pressed her lips to the phone. “Call me, liebling.”
The video went black and Caine clenched the phone until the case threatened to shatter.
“I’m going to kill that bitch.”
Cassie nodded, fully onboard with the kill-the-bitch plan, but only after they were certain Harley was safe.
“Would she really hurt the babies?”
The muscle of his jaw knotted as he visibly fought the urge to protect her with a lie.
“Yes.”
“We have to rescue her.” She frowned as he pressed his thumb against the phone screen to replay the video. “Caine, did you hear me?”
“It’s a trap,” he muttered.
“What sort of trap?”
He hit pause, his brow furrowed as he studied the image of Ingrid standing in a dark room with shelves of wine bottles in the background.
“It could be a trick that your sisters dreamed up to lure you back to their protection.”
She snorted. It was no secret her sisters were desperate to have her returned to the bosom of her family. But she didn’t for a moment think they would go to such extremes. “They wouldn’t.”
“No, I don’t think so either,” Caine readily agreed, “but it has to be considered.”
“What are your other theories?”
“It could be that Ingrid was telling the truth.” His gaze returned to the screen where the female cur was smiling with smug arrogance. “She might genuinely believe I have some magical means to transform her into a pureblooded Were and is trying to force me to give her what she desires.”
She studied his perfectly chiseled profile. “But you don’t believe that?”
His lips twisted. “There was a time when I was vain enough to assume that the world revolved around me, but I’m not a complete idiot.”
She tilted her head to her side. “I don’t know what that means.”
He reached to give her ponytail a gentle tug. “I’m traveling with the most sought after creature in the entire universe. If someone’s trying to capture us, it’s all about you, pet.”
Cassie grimaced. Being the most sought after creature in the entire universe wasn’t nearly so fun as it sounded. In fact, it sucked.
“Even if that’s true, I’m not leaving my sister in the hands of that female.”
“I know,” Caine soothed. “Are you getting any . . .” He waved his hand in vague motion.
“Any what?”
“Vibes.”
She blinked in confusion before at last realizing he was referring to her visions. “Oh.” She paused, searching for any hint of a foretelling. “No,” she at last said. “There’s nothing.”
He heaved a sigh. “So you get the command to watch the video, but nothing to tell us what to do about it?”
“That’s how it works.” She shrugged, pointing toward his phone. “You have to call.”
His gaze followed her finger, his muscles abruptly tensing as he studied the image of Ingrid still filling the screen. “Not yet.”
“Caine . . .” She halted her pleading words, sensing his distraction. “You have a plan?”
“Not so much a plan as a desperate hope that we can spring the trap before it’s set and escape with your sister unscathed,” he corrected.
“Is that possible?”
He tapped the screen. “I recognize where Ingrid took this video.”
“Really?”
“It’s Salvatore’s wine cellar.”
“You were in the wine cellar of the King of Weres?”
“Of course.” He turned to meet her expression of disbelief. “Salvatore used to be my enemy. Hell, he still wants to nail my furry ass to the wall.”
“So why were you in the wine cellar?”
“When he turned up in America I needed a secret way to enter his lair if I had to take drastic measures to protect myself. There’s a tunnel that leads into his wine cellar.”
She rolled her eyes. “I suppose I should expect such madness from you. You are far too reckless. But this female . . .” She frowned at the cur’s smug confidence that was captured by the video. “Is she insane?”
“I always suspected she came from the shallow end of the gene pool,” Caine said. “Why?”
“Who would be stupid enough to hold the mate of the King of Weres hostage in his own wine cellar?”
“Salvatore must be out of state or Ingrid wouldn’t have managed to get within a mile of the lair, let alone get her hands on Harley,” he explained.