Rose woke slowly. She felt heavy and disoriented. Using great care, she flexed her muscles, attempting to asses her injuries. She counted it as a major plus that all of her limbs appeared to in working order – despite the fact that she felt a peculiar weight on all of them. She encountered her first troubles when she attempted to sit up and move. She couldn't so much as turn her head from side to side, let alone move anything else!

Determined not to give way to the small swell of panic inside of her, Rose tried tapping into her supernatural strength, testing it against her bonds. The metal creaked from the pressure but did not break. Rose cursed the amount of tranquilizer in her system – she wasn't able to utilize her abilities properly; if she had been able to bring out her strength in full force, she would probably – no, she would most definitely – be free right now.

Knowing that escape was not imminent, Rose forced herself to relax and take a breath. She pressed her body tight against the floor (one that felt eerily like the concrete of Jake's basement) and began to assess her situation. She focused on each of her senses, carefully and systematically cataloguing the information that each offered her.

Sight: mostly blackness; sparks sometimes from around the room; there was a sheen about 1.5-2 feet away from her (though she didn't know what the 'sheen' could possibly be); she could not view past the sheen, whatever it was.

Hearing: faint buzzing; her own bodily noises.

Taste: Blood – a quick check ascertained that she had bitten her tongue at some point.

Smell: Metallic – but she didn't think that it was blood.

Touch: Stone or concrete (rough; hard; cold material) floor underneath of her gloves.

Rose reluctantly had to admit that she had not guesses as to where she was or what she was held in side of. And while she was playing the questions game, she might as well ask: When had she gotten here?; who had taken her?; why had she been taken? Though the very last one was obvious – she was the Huntsmistress; someone must have been angling for some kind of power play, but what did they want? Money? No one would risk angering the Clan for a bit of money; it wasn't worth it.

Perhaps it had been the Dragon Council that had done this. It might have been a sound theory, but there were too many difficulties for it to hold up. For one, the Council could not have gotten from the island to the airport faster than she had (she assumed anyhow – she knew that dragons could fly faster than planes but the Council would have had to stay behind to talk to Lao Shi, Jake and Fu, they could not have followed her immediately) and Rose was quite certain that she'd been stolen directly after landing in America. Also, she thought that kidnapping her and strapping her to the floor lacked the refinement that the Council emanated, no matter what they were doing. And, one of the final holes in that theory, she'd seen for herself that the Council preferred to war with words. Dragons were, indisputably, the most fearsome creatures on Earth – easily able to destroy cities in a matter of hours; she couldn't seem them having the patience to leave her anchored to the floor, stewing in her own juices. As she'd seen with Jake and Lao Shi on several occasions, when a dragon's temper flared, they flared drastically.

All of her thinking – going over Clan enemies, possible motives, the whole nine yards – only led her back to the same two questions: who the hell took her and what they hell did they want?

(-.-)

Lao Shi shook his monstrous, lizard-esque head. "There is no sign of her. whoever took her either did not take her from close by or was able to hide the evidence disturbingly well."

Nicholas heaved a sigh. "The security tapes show her saying goodbye to us and then she disappears from view. And there's a lack of cameras in the surrounding area. She could have gone anywhere; anything could have happened."

Except whatever happened to Rose, whatever took her from them, had to be dangerous; had to be fearsome.

"Where do we go from here?" Kyle asked. "What do we do now?"

"We don't give up," Lao Shi said automatically, not knowing what to do beyond the searching they had already performed – if they were going to find something, they already would have done so.

"NO; NEVER!" Nicholas and Kyle cried in unison, offense etched into each of their young, passionate faces.

"Not only is that our Mistress and our leader –"

"-but she is our friend. You can never, and will never –"

"-understand what kind of a life she saved us from; what kind of a life she saved you from."

"We love her and for you to even slightly suggest that we would ever even –"

"-consider giving up on her is not only insulting –"

"-but heartbreaking and completely fucked up."

"It's also foolish on your part. We would die for her, no hesitation – just like Andrew before us did."

"So don't you ever say those words again," Kyle finished darkly, rage coming from his just as powerfully as it was coming from Nicholas.

"I … I apologize," Lao Shi murmured, properly shamed. "I did not mean offense."

"You're forgiven," Nicholas and Kyle decided in tandem.

"So what now?" Jake broke in, voice thick with despair.

Where was she? She wasn't safe; she wasn't in his arms. His strong, capable Rose had disappeared, stolen by an unknown evil that Jake didn't know how to confront. He didn't know what he was supposed to be fighting, so he didn't know how to battle for her return. He just hoped that Rose was able to free herself from the epic, malicious force that was holding her hostage – and he hoped that the force had underestimated Rose; if it hadn't, he shuddered in fear over how powerful this thing would have to be.

"It's late," Fu mentioned. "Sleep is a necessary part of life, and I think we all need it right now."

"What about the search?" Jake demanded, Nicholas and Kyle his echo.

"Fu Dog is right," Lao Shi said gently. "We are all very tired. It would be best to return tomorrow, in the daylight, to search for evidence we may have missed tonight."

"The search," Jake protested feebly.

"What search? We've found nothing! We've run out of places to look and things to search for!" Fu shouted. "We're not going to find her at this house with nothing to go on!"

Jake stared at his dog. Finally, in a voice that very much resembled the one he'd had in his younger years; back when Gramps was an unflawed hero and the world had not yet destroyed his innocence with the brutality of realty – he said, "But we will find her, won't we, Fu?"

"Yeah, kid," Fu said, trying to sound much more confident than he already was. "We'll find her."

(-.-)

It was time.

Theron grinned diabolically at the thought. He'd had the Huntsgirl back in his possession for roughly a week. She'd gone without food for that space of time, and had only received the minimum amount of water to keep her alive. Now she was severely weakened – couldn't fight back even if we wanted to. Her body was slowly shutting down and giving up on her.

Theron tucked half of a sleeve of crackers into his pocket; a water bottle having taken up residence in his other one. He took the ladder up to the roof of the Huntsgirl's prison. He waltzed to the control panel and commanded the room to open the trapdoor and allow him inside and also not to destroy him; he was not the Huntsgirl attempting to escape but an authorized body. The commands set, Theron stepped down the trapdoor into the inner sanctum of the cage. The Huntsgirl's eyes opened, though slowly; painfully.

She looked at him, and Theron smirked at her. A mask of confusion fell over her exposed features (he having removed her mask when he had first taken her). Of course she was confused; of course she wouldn't know him. Though he'd slipped on his Huntsmaster's mask to steal her off of the street (he'd viewed it as a necessary part of winning the mental power struggle that would most definitely occur between them) now, he was wearing no relics of his former occupation. For the first time, the Huntsgirl would be seeing his face. He watched her bright blue eyes lock onto the dragon birthmark that covered one half of his head – even with her handicapped mental faculties, she was still sharper than most.

"Hello, Huntsgirl," he drawled, watching her expression turn to one of anger and hatred. Theron took amusement from it, knowing how quickly that expression would become one of submission and adoration; just like it should have been all along.

"Master," she spat, beginning to struggle – pointlessly – against her bonds.

"Don't be so venomous," Theron ordered, with little expectation that she would actually follow the command.

Her lips drew over her teeth, attempting an aggressive look.

"I'm here to help you, Huntsgirl," Theron assured her. Once, she would not have needed this assurance. Once, she would have believed that everything Theron ever did was to keep her safe, protected, and happy.

"Then let me go." She meant to sound threatening, but it all came out in a frail rush.

Theron's lips quirked up into a cruel smile. "Oh, Huntsgirl," he purred, thoroughly enjoying being able to address her to her face once again. "You aren't going anywhere."

Theron hated the fact that no fear entered her gleaming blue eyes. Despite how they had dimmed with the beginning of malnutrition, despite how she was anchored to his floor, how she was under his control, she still had the look of someone who would never bow. This was, of course, mostly Theron's fault. The Huntsgirl had been born with a sense of regality but Theron had encouraged her conceited feelings, holding her head high and higher because the only person she'd have to answer to was him.

But now, it was backfiring on him. Now, he was one of the people that she looked down on.

He added her arrogance toward him to the list of things he had to fix about her.

Theron squashed all thoughts about his future plans for the young girl and focused on the here and now. He couldn't get to where he aspired if he didn't take this first few steps properly.

He went to the Huntsgirl's side, carefully kneeling next to her head. Even with the limited mobility she had with her hands, Theron wasn't going to make the mistake of underestimating her (it was a sure fire way to lose her and he'd be damned if that was ever going to happen again). Theron pulled the water bottle from his pant pocket. He unscrewed the lid and took a small sip of it – just to prove to her that he had not tampered with the liquid in anyway. Once done with that, he lowered it to her lips.

For a moment, it looked as though she might refuse. But then her mind clearly stopped making the decisions and her body started with making them. Her dry, cracked lips closed around the open mouth of the bottle and she began to consuming the water mouthful by mouthful. Theron had to tilt it away from her and ignore the harsh look on her face when she was unable to follow it – Theron took out the cracker sleeved he'd packed on his person and pulled off the top one. He knew that crackers were easy on the stomach, and were a good introduction back to solid foods.

He gave her one, gently feeding her. He wasn't going to overdo it on the food, for fear she could become strong again, but giving her substance she craved. Feeding her was also a good way to start rebuilding the strong bond they'd once had. She took her time chewing each piece of cracker he tucked between her lips.

And the entire time, her unwavering blue eyes stared him down.

Theron met her gaze, remembering why he'd been so captured by the vivacious newborn. He'd been there for the delivery, her weak mother taking an entire two days to give birth to the twins she'd been implanted with. The first time had been beautiful – large brown eyes hungrily taking in everything around her, but when Theron had inspected the newborn babe, she'd been utterly bare. She'd had no mark.

He'd deposited the first one in the arms of the closest Huntsnurse and waited for the second twin.

The first thing he'd noticed about this twin was that she'd come out legs first; completely backwards, confirming what the ultrasounds had been saying all along – this one was a girl too. Theron wouldn't deny being disappointed in a set of females – one of which was useless due to her mark. A marked male would have been ideal – in fact, males were what the lab had been ordered to create and implant. That he was now dealing with twin girls was Theron's first indication that his scientists had done something very, very wrong.

Then he'd held the second twin. She looked almost exactly like her older by eight minutes sister, with two major differences. This baby had a thick red dragon birthmark wrapped around her wrist – one that matched the one Theron and the rest of the Clan all carried – and her eyes were the clearest blue he'd ever seen on a living thing. As he looked down at the newborn, she did something that he never would have expected from a babe – she laughed out loud; a giant, booming laugh like a condescending adult would make. Her genetic enhancements were already showing through.

Theron looked over at the blonde woman lying exhausted in the narrow little bed.

"May I hold them?" She asked demurely, "Just once?"

She'd been very aware of what would be happening when she'd been brought into the project. Theron had chosen her specifically because she demonstrated an impressive array of qualities that the Huntsclan put on premium and because she was a very poor woman, desperately in need of money. She'd been approached by a group of Clan members, masquerading as a squad of geneticists from a private foundation. They had offered her $4 million to have two twins – created with her and an unknown male's DNA and then implanted. The only condition was that, after the birth, she'd never see her children.

As Theron had anticipated, she'd snatched up the offer as soon as it was made.

In a rare moment of compassion, Theron had let her hold her twins. She'd had one in each arm, cuddling them tightly to her chest. All she'd seen, as their mother, was two innocent newborns but Theron could see the ruthlessness in their genetically engineered eyes – especially in the blue eyed marked one.

"If I could keep you, I'd call you Lily and Rose." The mother said, dubbing the brown eyed one 'Lily' while the blue eyed one was 'Rose'. "But I can't keep you; I promised. I'll love you both always. These nice people are going to take care of you."

She was sobbing uncontrollably when Theron took both girls from her. he left a few whispered words with two of the three nurses the clean up the tired women and then ship her back to Chicago – he didn't want her to stay in New York. Then he had the final nurse follow him into a separate room.

She prepared one bottle at his request. She handed him the bottle and took the brown eyed twin; the Lily twin. Theron began to feed the second twin while the nurse laid the first one in a basket. That twin began to sob and cry but the one in Theron's arms did not utter a sound. In fact, she watched as the nurse finished preparing the needle intended for her sister. She didn't so much as blink as the Huntsnurse pushed the needle into the first twin's veins, the infant's heart stopping but a moment after the lethal injection was administered.

Looking back on it now, Theron firmly believed that, even with her genetic programming, the Huntsgirl would not have been so cutthroat if she had not witnessed such brutality in her first ten minutes of life.

Theron's blinked the infant's face out of his mind's eye and focused on the grown woman right in front of him – that tiny little infant, whom he'd been the first to hold, two decades later.

"Huntsgirl," he hummed, stroking along the edge of her cheek.

She displaced his fingers the best she could. "No," she correctly him coldly, eyes like steel, "Huntsmistress."

This chapter is unbetad. Again, if you have any recommendations for a beta, please let me know. I don't own anything recognizable.

~TLL~