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Yep. Definitely a malevolent character, that alpha.
Fingernails biting into her palms, a sob escaped her, the sound as desperate as it was pitiful. Thankfully, the bustle of the city swallowed the noise, the crowds none the wiser to her uncharacteristic lack of control.
Who was she to cry over such trivial matters? The man was only … her mate.
The worst part of it was that Cortana had seen who he was. Underneath the pride and nonchalance, he was a truly magnanimous alpha, kind and gentle. A man who bore the burden of leadership with grace and benevolence, and who’d put his life on the line to save those of his pack with no hesitation.
For hours now, the apology she’d been brewing was heavy on her tongue, the words carefully crafted to express her regret and true feelings. It’d always been difficult to admit defeat, verbalize an apology, or confess she was wrong, simply because her pride allowed little room for leeway.
As the morning sun painted the sky a dusky red, she gave in to the pull of enervation in her soul and returned to the House. It rose before her, scraping the sky in all its impending glory.
She hovered her black card over the invisible entry pad, unlocking one door. After sunrise, no one except members of the House could enter the air-conditioned chill through the front doors.
Given the early morning hour, none of her Housemates remained in the foyer, all having retired to their rooms to sleep away the sunlight. At nine in the morning, few of her breed could withstand the pull of sleep.
Just as she made it to her floor, her cell phone buzzed in her pocket. Frowning, she plucked it out and gazed at the caller. The display of her phone showed the hasty picture she’d snapped of him.
Beaming from ear to ear, the wolfish grin was devilishly handsome on the man. His flawless skin gleamed mahogany in the poor lighting, his eyes fixated on one of the den’s children as they made grabby hands at whatever he was gifting them.
Riaz.
Ring. Ring. Ring.
She stared at the phone, each ring making her more and more uneasy. Deep within her, Cortana could sense his building desperation—an effect of the mating bond—and with it, she knew something was wrong. Pressing the answer button on her phone, she lifted it to her ear.
“Riaz?”
“Cortana.” His brusqueness made her flinch. “We’ve got movement at the warehouse here in Estes; everything was cleared out in a matter of hours.”
As she unlocked her apartment door, she asked, “Where did it go?”
“We don’t know.”
Eyes narrowing, she struggled to understand why he’d felt the need to reach out to her of all people. When he asked her to leave the den, her involvement in the mission had come to an end—a failure that mirrored what’d happened between the two of them on a personal level. When she sucked in a breath to reply, a cough lingered on her tongue.
“Why are you calling me?”
“I—” He cleared his throat. “I have a bad feeling about this, Cortana. They cleared out and took everything with them—and we have no idea where it went.”
When she tried to reply, her words strangled in her throat. Her answer was a mumbled cough, then another. And another. Her lungs burned and her eyes watered, her knees going weak as black skirted the edges of her vision.
“Cortana?”
The string of progressively worsening coughs made her reply impossible. Falling to her knees, her balance compromised, left her splayed against the marble floor with her phone still clutched in her hand. Across the line, she heard Riaz’s panicked voice.
“We need to get to Drake’s House,” he shouted. “Something’s wrong with Cortana.”
“Don’t have her signature to ‘port to, Skipper,” Remmus replied. “Best I can do is Drake.”
A near-feral growl—Riaz—preceded his gravelly voice yelling, “Then take us!” Moments later, his voice was on the phone, yelling across the line, “We’re coming, Cortana, just hold on!”
Shuddering against the cool wood flooring of her apartment, she hung on to his words. Each breath burned in her lungs, the sensation akin to aspirating shards of microscopic glass. She clung to the sounds on the other end of the line as strength left her.
Instead of Riaz’s voice, she heard Toni shriek, “Drake!”
“Toni.”
“Baby, what’s wrong?” Her voice was a desperate plea, echoed by Drake’s pained cough in the background.
