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“Have you been a good boy?”
Before I could type a response, there was a knock at the door, followed by Gwen calling out, “Carter, we need you. Now.”
Talk about timing. “Coming.” Well, I would’ve been.
Me: Hold that thought. I’m needed . . . I’ll be back soon. I love you.
“I love you, too,” she said to the camera, then blew me a kiss.
After pocketing my phone, I did my best to adjust my raging hard-on, then joined Gwen and Mason, assuming Mya and Oliver were on the line with urgent news.
“What’s up?” I asked, not expecting to find Mason’s fists on Gwen’s desk, head bowed.
“Mya made contact, but she was cut off while talking,” Gwen shared, eyes glossy. “I recorded the call, but I can’t reach her. Their trackers are also offline.”
I rounded the desk and sidestepped Gwen to press play on the video, anxious to find out why they both looked like someone had died.
Mya’s tear-streaked face filled the laptop screen. “Our covers are blown.” Crying, Mya went on as my pulse raced. “The Collective must’ve found us. Oliver just sacrificed himself so I could get away and—” The video ended there.
“Still nothing,” Gwen cried, clutching her phone as Mason stood, his bloodshot eyes on me. “What if they’re both . . .”
“Not an option,” I hissed. “They’re not dead.” Camila said everything would be okay, and I’m going to fucking make sure of it. “Round the team up,” I ordered, emotion starting to choke me up. “We’re going after them.”
I wrapped a hand over Mason’s shoulder, and he hesitantly surrendered a nod.
“We’ll find them. Alive.” Shooting my focus to Gwen next, grit and determination in my voice, I promised, “The Collective’s going to learn their lesson once and for all. Fuck around. Find out.”
