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My vision is blurry from the tears, and I can’t trust my eyes. Surely, they’re not this identical. Is this… am I seeing double?
Hell, maybe this is another hallucination. Maybe it’s all fake.
It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve seen someone who couldn’t possibly be there.
“Maia Blake?” the man on the left asks, pulling out a small pocket notebook. The fact that the other man doesn’t do the same thing proves I’m not seeing double. I’m just facing the most identical twins to ever exist, it seems.
“Yes.” My empty tone only mimics how I feel. It’s like there’s no more warmth within me, just an empty, dead soul. Losing Ryan destroyed me, but it never hurt this much. Losing the little girl I’ve grown, the only living thing that’s tied to the fiancé I lost… it’s indescribable.
“I’m Officer Patrick Daniels, and this is my brother, Officer Garrett Daniels. Can we come in, Miss Blake?” he asks, and I nod slowly, wrapping my arms around myself.
Why aren’t there more officers with them? Where is their car? Why aren’t they as worried as I am? How can they come to the house of a kidnapped infant and seem so nonchalant?
“We’re twins,” the second officer—Garrett—unhelpfully supplies. Obviously, I can see that. “We heard there was a wolf on the property that may need handling. May I…?” He trails off, and it takes me a second to figure out what he wants.
“It’s through there,” I say, pointing to the living room door. Garrett goes through to handle the rabid offering from the psychotic kidnapper, and I break down into sobs. Patrick reaches over to tentatively rub my back, offering soothing words. There’s nothing soothing here, but he’s trying, and that’s something I’m sure I’ll be grateful for once everything is how it should be.
Eventually, Patrick leads me through to the kitchen, going the opposite way through the house so that we don’t need to go past the living room. I sit down on the stool in front of the pie I had just pulled out of the oven before my entire day was ruined.
Steam is still rising off of it, so it couldn’t have been that long since she was snatched from her home. Patrick grabs me a bottle of water from the fridge and encourages me to take a few sips as he leans against my countertop. He’s so nonchalant, there’s no urgency about him.
My child has been taken. Why isn’t he bothered?
“I don’t need water,” I sob, shaking my head as I shove the bottle away from me. “I need you to find my daughter.”
“We have officers already casing the neighbourhood, Maia. But I need you to calm down and work with us so we can do our best to help your daughter, okay?”
I nod, even though I don’t feel okay. None of this feels okay. He gestures once more to the water and, in a deep voice, commands me to drink it. I don’t try to argue this time and snatch up the bottle to gulp some down.
It does help me calm down a little, although I won’t admit that.
“There we go. Can you recount what has happened?” he asks, and through my giant breakdown, I tell him everything from me returning home from the doctors until the moment he got here. He nods slowly, some kind of realisation hitting him as I speak, and somehow, he’s even less concerned than he was when he arrived.
Before I can ask what realisation he’s come to, Garrett comes into the room holding the wolf in his arms ever so delicately. The horrid thing is curled up as he strokes over it’s back, and bile rises in my throat.
He doesn’t even look my way, his tone urgent. “We need to call the Luna, Pat.”
“Get it out of here,” I screech, instantly losing my calm as I see the shitty offering the kidnappers have given me. “Take it away from me!”
“Maia, take a breath,” Patrick says, but I can’t. I can’t look away from the wolf with eyes as grey as my daughter’s. Vomit rises, but I choke it back, blinking away the tears.
I want it out of my house.
I need it out of my house.
“Look at me,” he barks, and surprisingly, my eyes snap to his. I can’t resist the pull, the kind of aura he’s emitting is dangerous. He’s irresistible.
“Silence,” he adds in that same dominant tone of voice. The Northern accent in his words fades away here.
I fall to silence, my mouth opening and closing, but no words are able to come out. What the fuck? I scratch at my throat, the panic bubbling over, but my body physically cannot produce a sound.
What has he done to me?
“Relax.” That same magnetic growl to his words sends tingles across my body—and not in a good way. My body betrays me, and although my mind is still racing, the physical feelings of panic are gone.
“This wolf is your daughter,” Garrett says, lifting up the sleeping wolf so that it’s in my line of sight, and my mouth drops open. What the fuck? “I know you might not believe me?—”
Logically, I want to argue, to protest, and I know my body is fighting against the urge to panic, but I can’t. I eye Patrick warily, but he doesn’t even look my way.
