They were alone and unsupervised, but God only knew for how long. “Rhage, still clear?” he shouted up the stairwell.

“Clear!”

“One civilian.” Z assessed the male’s body. He’d been beaten, and though he didn’t seem to have any open wounds, there was no telling whether he could dematerialize. “Call the boys in case we need transport.”

“Already have.”

Z took a step forward—

The floor broke apart beneath his feet, splintering right out from under him.

As gravity grabbed him hard with greedy hands and he went into a free fall, all he could think about was Bella. Depending on what lay at the bottom, this could be—

He landed on something that shattered on impact, shards of whatever it was slicing at his leathers and his hands before bouncing up to cut into his face and neck. He kept hold of his gun because he’d been trained to, and because the jolt of pain tightened him up from head to foot.

It took some deep breathing before he could reboot his brain and try to assess any damage.

As he sat up slowly, the chiming sound of bits of glass falling to a stone floor echoed around him. In the circle of light that fell from the cellar above, he saw that he was sitting in the midst of a brilliant shimmer of crystals…

He’d fallen on a chandelier the size of a bed.

And his left boot was facing backward.

“Fuck. Me.”

His broken lower leg started to pound with pain, making him think that if only he hadn’t looked at the damn thing, maybe he would have kept on not feeling it.

Rhage’s face popped over the rim of the ragged hole above. “You okay?”

“Free the civilian.”

“Are you all right?”

“Leg’s shot.”