Nearly three weeks had passed since Sydney's abduction, and I was starting to lose hope that I would ever find her…until one day, I received a phone call from a blocked number, and when I picked up, I was shocked to discover it was Marcus Finch on the other line.

"You've got a lot of nerve calling me," I growled, not even caring about the fact that he had somehow gotten ahold of my number. "Especially since it was your people that hauled away my girlfriend!"

"The Alchemists are not my people anymore, Ivashkov," Marcus snapped, and I could already hear the patience wearing thin in his voice. "I don't give two flicks of a rat's ass about those sorry sons of bitches. I care about Sydney. I warned her that staying here left her vulnerable to their schemes. Had she come with me to Mexico and let me seal her tattoo, none of this would've happened—"

"Spare me the 'I told you so', if you will, Marcus," I retorted. "I didn't force her to stay. Sydney made her own decision, and I had nothing to do with that—"

"Maybe," he interrupted snarkily, "but you're the reason she's gone. Had it not been for you and your ridiculous, ill-fated romance, Sydney would've had the chance to go on and do so many great things for my people, for the world! She could've brought about so much good, and you are the reason she refused to go through with any of it."

"Is there a reason why you're calling me," I snarled, through gritted teeth, "or do you just have a daily quota of torment to inflict on me that you've gotta meet? Because I don't need this. I've already got enough of my own guilt to deal with without adding yours to it!"

"Relax, pretty boy," he sighed. "I wouldn't have called unless it was important. I've been looking into the system, breaking into Alchemist servers and sending my people in on damn near impossible missions trying to locate our girl, and after weeks of running and hiding—and more close calls than I care to admit—I think we might have an idea of where they're keeping her. Sydney, I mean."

My heart stopped—for just a second—and then jump started again, picking up into overtime, thundering in my chest as I replayed Marcus' words in my head. "You…you found her? Do you…do you know where she is? Is she okay? Are they hurting her?"

"Whoa, easy there, big guy," Marcus chimed in, and I could've almost sworn there was a hint of concealed laughter in his voice. "One question at a time. She's okay." He paused for a second and reconsidered. "Or, rather…she's alive, anyway. Like I said before, they won't kill her. They value Alchemist lives too much. They're just doing everything in their power to turn her back into one of them and compel her into being one of their damn puppet masters again." Even I could hear the disgust and repulsion in his voice as he discussed the goings-on of his former colleagues. "But she's strong. I doubt she'll give into them that easily."

"You didn't answer my question," I noted, dreading the response, but I had to know what she was going through, considering the fact that it was my fault she going through any of it at all. "Are they hurting her?"

"Look, I don't have a lot of time here!" he exclaimed, exasperated, but also pointedly evading my question. That wasn't too promising. "I can't guarantee that the Alchemists haven't picked up my trail yet, and I can't have them figuring out where I am or what I know. If they find me, then any chance we have of rescuing Sydney is gone, just like that. I am your only chance at getting her back, so if I were you, I'd spend a little less time playing twenty questions and a little more time listening to what I have to say. No detail is too small. So shut your damn mouth and pay attention. And you might wanna take notes, 'cause this is going to be one hell of a feat to pull off!"

"Okay," I agreed. "I've got it. So, what do you know?"

"My sources suggest that she is being held in a long-abandoned facility in southern California, almost right on top of the border of Mexico," he explained, after a long moment of grueling silence in which he had undoubtedly been trying to decide whether or not he could trust me with this information. After all, I was a Moroi, and while he might sympathize with my people and not completely loathe us like the Alchemists did, that didn't mean he completely trusted us—me, in particular. "It's about fifty miles or so away from anything. The Alchemists bought it out and took over it several years back, exactly for this reason: so that they'd have a place to hold their 'bad Alchemists', a place that no one could ever find and few could ever get to."

"Meaning what, exactly?"

"Meaning that you can't do this alone…and I'm certainly in no position to offer you any more help," he grudgingly admitted. "I can provide you with detailed accounts of this holding space: its location, its ins-and outs; I can tell you its precise layout and I can even get you in contact with a former Alchemist that used to help run the joint. But even so, with all that information, you're going to need back-up. A hell of a lot more than I can offer you."

"I think I know where I can find some," I said, growing more and more eager with each word that was exchanged between us. Oh, my God, this was it. After weeks of relentless searching and trying to get in touch with Sydney, I'd finally found out something that might be able to help me save her. I might actually have a shot at this, if only I could circumvent the layers of Alchemist security and stage the break-in of a lifetime to rescue her from a place that was on constant lockdown. And there was only one person I could think of that had ever pulled off an escape of such enormous magnitude and gotten away with it: my illustrious ex, Rose Hathaway.

"Thank you, Marcus," I choked out, nearly falling over in relief. "I can't tell you what this means…for you to do this…just thank you so much for doing this for me."

"I didn't do this for you," he said bluntly, and even I flinched at the note of disdain in his voice. "I did it for her. Sydney's a good kid, and she doesn't deserve this. She never did. She deserves a chance to be free of the Alchemist chains, to go on and make her mark on the world…and I'm not going to let her little indiscretions with you stand in the way of that. I'll do what I can to help you break her out of there, but I'm in no way doing this for you."

"Understood," I said flatly, not even caring about his preposterous words or the fact that he clearly disapproved of our relationship almost as much as the next Alchemist. "Frankly, I don't care why you're doing it. You're doing it, and that's all that matters. So…get on with it already and tell me what I need to know to break our girl free then, why don't you?"

I had never paid such careful, undivided attention to anything before in my life, but I listened intently to his words, clinging to each individual word for dear life. Until every last intimate detail, all the insider Alchemist facts—their deepest and darkest secrets—I knew for myself. It was seared into my brain, and I tucked away that knowledge for later, knowing that I would need to call upon every ounce of it if I stood a chance at breaking Sydney out of there.

About forty five minutes later or so, Marcus and I disconnected, and I went in to my phone contacts and let out a sigh as I called the one number that I had not willingly called in months. My phone screen lit up, indicating that it was dialing and the name Rose Hathaway appeared on my screen.

Tentatively, I let out a sigh and reluctantly brought the phone up to my ear. Within seconds, a familiar voice picked up on the other end. "Adrian!" I could practically hear the smile in her voice, and even I couldn't help but smile at the sound of her voice—so warm, so cheery, so friendly, despite everything that went down between us. "Long time, no talk. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Rose," I said in acknowledgment, letting out another shaky sigh and grimacing as I thought about what I was about to ask her to do. "I…need your help. I have a favor to ask you. A big one. But, uh…it's more of an in-person conversation. You mind if I come visit you guys at Court? It needs to be soon, like today, if possible. It's an emergency."

"Absolutely," she replied, with no hesitation or uncertainty whatsoever in her voice. "You know me, always willing to help a friend in need. You can hit me up any time asking for favors, you know that."

"Excellent," I said, springing into action before my mind could even process what I was doing. "I'll be on the next flight out."

"Great, I look forward to it," she said, sounding like she genuinely meant it. "I'll see you when you get here."

I hung up the phone, more eager to start packing and get going than to continue with any additional unimportant small talk. There'd be plenty of time to catch up later, but for now, Sydney was losing time, and every second was precious. There wasn't a moment to lose. I had to get moving and get her out of that hellhole. The sooner, the better.

Don't worry, Sydney, I thought, desperately wishing that she could somehow hear my thoughts. She couldn't, unfortunately, I knew that. But still, a guy could always hope, right? I'm coming for you. I'm going to get you out of there, and we'll go away together, just the two of us. Nothing will ever come between us again.

After all, if anyone had even a chance of pulling off the impossible and rescuing Sydney from this hell, it was Rose Hathaway.