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Dragging them through an open door, I help them climb under a desk just as the deafening sound of an explosion rocks the building.
Dust falls as everything shakes and a powerful blast knocks holes through walls, sending furniture and people flying through the air. Scorching pain licks up my back as I’m tossed across the room and my head connects with the far wall with a sickening thud. Sliding to the ground, my ears buzz painfully and I groan, struggling to keep the black from taking me under; praying that wherever Belle is, she got away.
48
BELLE
“What are we doing here?”
My nerves finally getting the better of me, Leon and I have been sitting in the van amidst unpleasant silence for at least half an hour, watching the comings and goings of the alpha conference. The dark van, with “Anderson Hotels” in pale blue script along the side, feels claustrophobic.
I expected this van, with its scary contents that I hate sitting so near, to be on its way to Grey Ridge.
“You’ll see.” Leon loves keeping secrets but he’s not as relaxed as he’s trying to seem.
Checking his phone for the hundredth time, he finally grunts in satisfaction. When I go to ask him what’s the good news, he shushes me, pointing to the patio beside us where shifters laugh and chat, oblivious to the danger right next to them.
All the beautiful people, the fancy black-tie attire, is normally something I love to watch, but not today. Not like this.
I stare out the front window in disbelief as Lucia emerges from the building, a smug smile on her face as she greets the most influential leaders in the region. Not knowing why Ethan isn’t on her arm is killing me.
When a bell rings, calling the guests inside to be seated for the meal, Leon claps his hands together.
“Show time.”
The side door of the van opens and in the car beside us, I can see a man lying across the back seat, guarded by a proud looking Dave. The man’s eye is swollen and blood drips from his now-crooked nose.
Still, there is no way I wouldn’t recognise him.
Toby.
“What the fuck is he doing here? He’s dead,” I gasp.
That lying bitch.
Their bond never snapped.
Leon snaps a picture of Toby’s battered face, then hands the phone to me. “You’re going to need this.”
Twisting in my seat to face him, I feel like pulling my hair out. He still hasn’t told me what he expects me to do here.
“I don’t understand what’s going on. How can I do what you want if I don’t know your end game?”
Leon smiles, a slow evil smirk this time that has me dreading whatever he’s about to say.
“There’s been an… incident… at the Anderson packhouse. Looks like Lucia’s going to need to tap into that emergency fund you guys keep for a rainy day. I want you to go in there and only come out when Lucia has access to the money.”
“An incident?” The Anderson pack? Typical Leon, he’s seemingly incapable of giving me a straight answer. “I thought she was targeting Grey Ridge.”
Leon growls in frustration, as if he’s trying to explain physics to a toddler. “You assumed wrong. Unlike this idiot,” he flicks his chin toward Toby, “Lucia is too smart for petty revenge. Besides, her mate isn’t dead, so what would she avenge? She just wants money. Specifically, the emergency slush fund.” His lip curls into a proud sneer, “And, unfortunately, the Andersons have just experienced a devastating explosion.”
Ethan.
Squeezing my eyes shut against a surge of pain, I force my lungs to keep working and my brain to focus. I would have felt it. I try to convince myself that’s true so I can listen to the words still falling from Leon’s mouth. I rest a hand on the box beside me. “So, this was just a trick and it’s all over?”
“Yes and no. Lucia saw the feed of the van. She thinks that’s the only bomb, and that you and your mate are dead. She’s going to be so disappointed.” Leon shakes his head with a wicked smile touching the edge of his mouth. I stare at him, perplexed. It’s as though Lucia is the wicked one here for wanting me and Ethan gone. He’s absolved himself of any guilt because it’s just a job. No hard feelings. Lucia is really the bad guy here.
Now, he’s watching me like he expects a medal for scuppering her plans. To suit himself.
