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    Summary

    “Where is my son?”

    “Oh, don’t worry,” his female captor crooned. “We haven’t hurt him. Yet. We’re thinking we might keep him actually. The offspring of the most powerful High Lord Prythian has ever seen and his mate?” Her words were cruel and mocking. “We would be able to hone him into quite the weapon.” Rhys snarled quietly but the female ignored him. “And he’s still young, I’m sure he’ll forget all about his mother and father with time.”

    The words caused Rhys to chuckle darkly, and the pair shifted, looking at one another. “I’m going to enjoy watching you die,” is all Rhys said.

    “Awfully confident for someone completely at our mercy,” the male sneered, clenching his fist.

    “Oh, it’s not me you should be worried about,” Rhys said, delighting in the words. “But my mate,” he continued, savouring both the words and the unnerved expressions it brought to the pair’s faces. “She’s going to flay the skin from your bones.”

    An enemy territory kidnaps Rhys and Nyx and Feyre shows everyone just how far she's willing to rip the world apart to get them back. For Febuwhump Day 9 prompt: kidnapped.

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