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followed behind him as he ran down the stairs.
    “Where are they?” Marrok growled behind him, moving to quick for the other man to keep up.
    “Level 9.”
    He yanked the door open, not waiting for Connor to catch up with him. Moving swiftly, he
    checked each room until he found what he was looking for. When he did, bile rose up in the back of his throat.
    He edged up to the large, glass window, staring at the two men lying unconscious on the
    hospital beds. They were still in human form, and he wondered if they even had the life force and strength needed to shift. Multiple IV’s were hooked up to each man, inserted into veins from their heads down. That wasn't what horrified him, though.
    Connor moved up next to him, standing silently as he took it all in. They had been brutally and sadistically tortured. Repeatedly. From what he could see, no part of their bodies were left untouched.
    Their hair was extremely short, and he was willing to bet that the ones holding them prisoner had kept them shaved. Even through the regrowth, the thick, raised scars moving horizontally across their skulls was clearly visible. Marrok felt physically ill at the sight.
    “It's inhumane, what these men have lived through. Will they survive?” he asked Connor, his
    voice low and harsh in the silence.
    “The doctor is doing everything he can. They have the worst injuries I've ever seen.” That was saying a lot, considering how badly Connor had been injured the month before by the panther shifters that attacked them. “It's a miracle they ever made it here. We all know what a vow means to a
    werewolf, though. I reckon after what they lived through, dying free looked like a picnic compared to remaining in the hell they were in.”
    Marrok nodded in agreement. Wolf Town's doctor was a miracle worker. If anybody could heal
    them, he could. “Has the king been notified?”
    Connor nodded. “Alexander and Carole Anne are on their way back from St. Louis right now.
    They are due to arrive anytime. I was hoping we'd have more answers for them by the time they got here, but it doesn't look like it.”
    Marrok was frustrated. His body was charged, desperate to take action. As soon as he had a
    more exact location, he was leaving. There was a chance his mate was alive. He wouldn't stop until he recovered her, or knew for sure it was false information. His bag was packed and waiting in his room.
    He was ready to move out in a moment's notice.
    Marrok stood with his hands on his lean hips, his jaw clenched tight as his mind raced. The
    more he thought about it, the more he believed the story to be true. After discovering Taylor gone, he'd naturally believed her to be taken. There hadn't been a stone left unturned in his search for her, but they could never pinpoint any leads. The hope within his heart increased, like a snowball rolling down a mountain. Someone had taken the women and baited the lake with the clothes she'd been wearing.
    Taylor was alive. She had to be .
    He looked over at Connor, his expression and tone accepting no argument when he said, “I'm
    going to sit with them until one of them wakes up.”
    Connor looked at him warily, massaging the back of his neck with his hand. “What will you do
    when he does?”
    He turned to look back at the nearly-dead men lying on the beds. His expression was bleak and
    full of pain as he replied quietly, “Get answers. Then, I'm going to hope like hell my mate survives until I get there.”

    * * * * *
Only an hour or so had passed when Alexander stepped into the quiet hospital room. Carole
    Anne followed him, her features sad as she took in the condition of the two unknown men in the beds.
    Marrok rose, lowering his dark head in acknowledgment of their status. “My King, My Queen,” he stated simply before sitting back down.
    Alexander nodded back, his blue eyes missing nothing. He was tall, his frame muscular and
    broad. The power of his alpha could be felt strongly within the cool, stark