Her blood.
And vomit.
My eyes blurred.
Mikhail moved past me and grabbed something from the bed. He held it up with his finger.
Fuck.
They cut off her anklet. And the only reason they would have done it was they knew it had a tracking device.
In my anger, I forgot about the damn anklet, and it would have been useless had I remembered it anyhow.
“She’s still alive,” Damien said. “She has to be for Luca’s plan to work.”
Anger boiled to the surface, and I looked at him, shoving him with my hands. “Will you stop sounding so goddamn calm about everything? Catalina’s been taken, and we’re about—”
My voice broke off.
Damien’s eyes softened.
“You’re about to lose me,” he finished for me.
He walked up and placed his hand on my shoulder. I shrugged him off. “Everything is going to be fine. The important thing is to get her back home safely, okay?”
I blinked away the moisture building in my eyes. Mikhail didn’t look any better than me. Like Catalina, when faced with anything emotional, his first instinct was to remain silent, while I just wanted to explode.
Catalina was our heart. We couldn’t lose her, but Damien was our glue. He’d brought us all together.
“I don’t want to lose you,” I whispered in the quiet room.
Mikhail walked up to me, wiping his eyes.
Damien grabbed the back of my neck and Mikhail’s and pulled us in close.
“We’ll figure it out. We always do, right?”
I could only nod, even as hopelessness weighed me down.
“Now. We need bombs. Get Maxim on the phone while Mikhail prepares the car. Once we get the exchange location, we’re leaving. As for me—” His eyes hardened. “I’m going to find out who the fucking traitor is.”