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The pain expands, radiating down my spine, as goosebumps cover my skin.
“Okay.”
“I need you to rage, do whatever, and then I need you here as my second,” Orson says, giving me a firm nod. I mute the call, knock the video off, and then I fucking rage.
It’s a good thing the room is soundproof because I need it.
Only once I’m a tiny bit calmer—a volcano on the verge of eruption is surely calmer than a volcano that has erupted, right?—do I put the video call back on.
Orson, to his credit, ignores the state of my office. He ignores the way I’m breathing so heavily, the way my suit is now rumpled and messy.
“I need you to contact the pack,” he says. “I don’t have the details on hand, but I don’t want to leave the house right now.”
“I can do that.”
“Voss is working on something with the other pack, but then he’s going to head over to Kennedy and demand to know what’s going on.”
“Let’s hope he’s a little more diplomatic than that,” I say, but, honestly, if Atticus is… no. I won’t let my brain go there. Not when he has Nora. Not when she’s at risk.
Orson puts me on hold, switching over to contact Micah, as I dig out the paperwork we got Kennedy to sign. It doesn’t take long, and I forward the number to Orson.
And then I wait.
Anxiously.
And then I wait some more.
Frustratedly.
And then… Orson’s voice is back, but I can tell by the look on his face that it’s not good.
It’s not fucking good at all.
He’s speaking, but I can’t hear him. All I can hear is a white noise that blocks everything else out. There’s a fuzziness in my eyes, and I’m struggling to see properly.
“Malachi!” Orson’s deep growl echoes through my brain, snapping my focus back to him. “Focus.”
I nod, taking deep, heaving breaths.
“Atticus is alive,” he says, and, this time, his tone is soft, reassuring. “Atticus is alive.”
“Nora?” It’s the only word I can utter. The desperation, the pleading, the panic, says everything else for me.
His grim silence tells me all I need to know. It kind of kick starts my system, and my tiger and I merge together to focus.
“What’s the plan?” I demand.
“How much of what I said did you hear?” he asks, and I shake my head, indicating nothing. “Atticus and Nora were attacked, but we have no idea by who or what. It seems like they crashed, well, it would have if it weren’t for the fact that Atticus’s clothes were strewn across the road.”
“And Nora’s?”
“I spoke with her brother, David, and he had no idea Nora was meant to be there,” Orson says, and I hold in my growl. “Her suitcase is gone, there’s no sign of her phone or her kindle. She’s just not there.”
“Fuck!”
“We know she’s alive,” Orson says, gesturing to his chest. “We can feel that… but that’s it.”
“The moment we find her, I’m sinking my fucking teeth into her,” I hiss, sounding absolutely fucking feral.
