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“That you insisted on staying behind to take care of my father. Although, that’ll take on a far more sinister connotation if they find out later that he died.”
“You can still stop this. There’s no need…”
Lucia holds up a finger to stop me as I step toward her, imploring her not to kill her own father and put a halt to whatever madness she has planned.
“I said ‘if’; I haven’t fully decided on that one yet. Maybe if you don’t cause any trouble, I’ll keep him and your little mate alive.”
Reaching into her purse, she pulls out her phone and taps at the screen, a sinister smile spreading across her face. Alarm bells are going off in my head and adrenaline surges through my body. I was only in touch with Belle yesterday.
“Don’t worry, Leon is keeping her good company. In fact, I have a feeling he won’t let her out of his sight until her heat starts anyway.”
A camera feed appears on the screen: a blurry image of the inside of a van, live streamed straight to her phone. Belle is sitting on a bench in the back, partially hidden by a large box covered over by a blanket. Her hands are behind her back, bound I’m sure, and her entire body bounces and jolts as they drive.
That must be the van she mentioned. The van with the bomb. She’s practically sitting on it.
“You fucking bitch. If he touches her…” Stepping toward her, I raise my hands, but instantly, Trent and George are by Lucia’s side, weapons drawn.
“You’ll what?” Her laugh is shrill as she tucks her phone away and continues her taunting. “Cry as I have done over my mate? Try to get revenge on me like I have done to you and yours?” She leans in, whispering, “You don’t have the balls.”
Turning to the mirror over the sideboard, she carefully reapplies her lipstick, pressing her lips together, and admires her reflection.
Casting one final disgusted glance over me, she sneers, “You’re nothing compared to Toby. And everyone can go to hell for what they did to him.” A beep from her phone catches her attention. Looking at Trent and George, she nods and tucks her designer clutch under her elbow once more. “Time to go.”
Lucia flounces from the room and a key turns in the door, locking me inside. The sound of her heels disappears down the hall and I curse, knowing that I need to get out of this room. Shoving the bed out of the way, I run at the door, over and over, pounding my shoulder into the reinforced wood. This room is more like a jail cell than a guest suite; she knew what she was doing when she put me in here.
Minutes turn into an hour, and blood trickles down my arm, but I won’t give up. Gritting my teeth, I ignore the pain as I finally start to feel some movement. A crack. A loud snapping noise as the frame breaks, and the lock gives way. As I stumble into the hall, shaking out my left arm, weak and damaged after the battering it just received, I race through the corridors as fast as I can.
I need to get to Belle.
Swinging into the foyer, I feel an urge to run to Alpha Anderson’s room, knowing his life might be in danger, but I have to trust that Joseph will take care of him. My own pack and my mate come first.
Wondering where to find keys to one of the cars outside, an engine cutting off catches my attention, and I smile. Hopefully it’s a mode of transportation I can borrow.
When I emerge into the dusk and see a dark van parked right at the front door of the packhouse, my heart stops.
The van is here, not Grey Ridge.
The driver’s door opens, and a bear shifter climbs out, takes one look at me, and shifts into his animal form. Bracing for a fight, I expect him to charge me, but instead he looks nervously at the van then goes barrelling toward the trees in the distance. A few wolves passing by stare after him, completely confused by what’s unfolding.
Sprinting to the side door, I yank it open, expecting to see Belle.
There’s only a box, covered by a blanket.
She’s not here.
Sliding back the blanket, I swallow hard as a digital clock appears in view, the seconds counting down rapidly. Fuck.
“Bomb!” I roar, wishing for the first time ever that I was a part of this pack so I could mind-link.
People nearby hesitate, but I shout again, forcing every bit of authority I have into the words.
Grabbing the first person I see, I shout at him, hoping that even though nobody here likes me, they’ll listen to the fear in my voice. “Run! Tell everyone to run!”
Racing toward the restaurant, I’m turning back anyone going toward the front entrance and steering them the other way when I hear Alpha Anderson’s deep booming voice from down the corridor, commanding everyone to move. In a matter of seconds, the packhouse has gone from calm to absolute chaos as everyone drops what they’re doing and flees toward the back exit.
I pick up a child under one elbow and loop Joseph’s mate with the other, shielding them from the stampede just as the countdown in my brain gets to three.
We won’t make it outside.
