The news came like a hard kick to the gut. He drew in a deep breath as terror for what Cathy was being subjected to in that dimension and fury at Wolfram and Hart, at the mystic, at anyone even remotely associated with this plan of theirs mixed. He remembered all too well the time spent in one and felt sick. They could be telling, showing her anything. Hurting her, scaring her. It was worse than he'd expected.
Something snapped. He wanted one last chance to convey his disapproval. His foot connected with the mystic and the chair toppled over with a loud thump. Lindsey backed off, running a hand through his hair as he drew in a deep breath. He wanted blood, retribution, but first he had to get Cathy out of there before anymore damage was done.
"Not the way needed, but I know someone who might." He retrieved his phone, focusing on writing out the text. "Thank you. If it wasn't for what you just did..." He shook his head. "I appreciate it."