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As if sensing an oncoming explosion, Raoul stepped in front of him, flashed a calming smile, and began speaking with the officers. In the end, he ended up reaching into his wallet and retrieving a card, which put the officers at ease, enough that they actually smiled. After that, they stepped aside, allowing Conall and his party to proceed.
“What did you show them?”
“I’m a VIP member. So are you.”
Conall’s only response was a grunt. He took the stairs two at a time, following her scent to the last room on the left. Without knocking, he pushed the door open. It was empty but it looked like the third world war had erupted in the place. Chairs were overturned, the coffee table was broken, the paintings on the wall were torn and crooked. Her scent was strongest in here. It was everywhere, as if she’d been there recently.
And then he caught whiff of another scent. A wolf scent. Rafael. His ears picked up a slight scratching sound, and he followed it to the door at the side of the room. Pushing it open cautiously, he looked down at the battered and bloodied body of a large chestnut-colored wolf and paused. Rafael’s breathing was labored, and every so often a slight whine would leave his lips. What was he doing here?
Lowering himself, he reached out to touch Rafael’s shoulder. The wolf immediately went on the attack, swiping at him with sharp claws as he struggled to sit up. Instinct made Conall retreat before the wolf’s claws could connect.
“Rafael!” Conall said firmly, waiting for his green eyes to focus. He saw recognition in the wolf’s gaze moments before he gave up his struggle to sit up, and placed his head against the cool tile of the bathroom floor. Many questions rushed him but one was more important, so he asked it. “Where is Vivienne?”
Taken.
The weakness of the voice in his head coupled with the fact that Rafael didn’t shift back to his human form told Conall of the severity of his injuries.
“Taken where?”
Don’t know. Cronin…it was Cronin. Trackers. Shitload of trackers.
Conall nodded, feeling his anger mount simultaneously with fear. Rafael was fading, slipping in an out of consciousness, but there was one more question he needed answered.
“Why are you here?”
Followed Vivienne. Strange. Her at airport without you.
Standing, Conall turned to find Raoul standing behind him. “Have them take him back to Cedar Creek.” Most weres could heal themselves, but when they were injured this badly, they needed assistance.
Conall moved out of the way when two of his pack members entered the bathroom and proceeded to lift the wolf. A dark pool of blood marked the spot where Rafael had been.
Conall’s phone rang and he answered it. It was Sloan.
“Santiago just called. Tiberius and Wilhem and are heading to London.”
Was it a coincidence that Cronin had lured Vivienne to an airport at the same time the other two New York grand wizards were flying to London? He didn’t think so.
“How does he know?”
“His pack was watching them. They both boarded jets at JFK within hours of each other. More than likely, that’s where Cronin is.”
Where Vivienne could be heading, if she was no longer at the airport. He didn’t have to say it. “Call Eirik and Astrid. I want them alert and looking for any increase in witches.”
Eirik Lieverson and Astrid Lykopis were two pack alphas who sat on the Council in the UK. Conall had met both on various occasions, and he trusted them.
He turned to Raoul. “Find out if and when Cronin boarded a plane.” It was probably a private jetliner. It didn’t matter. They had people who could tell them what they needed. Soon they would know if he’d boarded the plane, and who’d boarded with him.
***
Vivienne awoke struggling.
Her hands and feet were bound, and something was in her mouth. She tried to spit it out and found she couldn’t. It was a gag.
She’d known there had been a high possibility that Cronin was setting her up, but she’d also known the druid inside of her was powerful enough to withstand an attack, and give a good counterattack of her own. She’d been determined to give it a chance if it meant the possibility of saving her family. She’d entered the VIP room and surveyed it, finding Maximilian Cronin standing directly in the center, a cane supporting his weight. She’d taken a few cautious steps forward, ears and nose alert for movement, when she felt a slight prick at her neck. She’d spun around, had seen the syringe the tracker was holding, and had promptly blasted him, and anyone else she could find. She’d tired quickly, but she’d made it into the hallway and was running for the stairs when they caught her again. Rafael had appeared, and in that moment, she realized Rafael had set her up. It had been too convenient, him riding out on his bike just when she needed a ride to the airport. Conall had warned her about him, but she hadn’t listened. Stupid. She’d wished for enough strength to blast and kill him before the drug knocked her out. Wishes were futile because his was the last face she remembered seeing before she awoke in this place.
