Rowan denies himself the pleasure, instead checking the other room and the bathroom just to be sure his nose hasn’t let him down.
But they’re gone.
They should have stuck together, just like Nix had said.
Leo had told him. Gideon had reminded him. Jay had looked him in the eye and said he’d trusted him to be their bulwark (who even says that anymore?) against the evils of the world.
His only excuse was that Nix hadn’t insisted, and Luca hadn’t seemed at all worried. Luca almost always had a good bead on whether they had something to worry about. I mean, who worried more than him?
Still, this is FUBAR, and the blame falls squarely on his shoulders.
Even if Rowan has been working on making his feelings and his actions match what he knows in his head to be true (it hopefully makes him less of a hypocritical jerkface, as per Luca). Rowan knows without a doubt that Nix can take care of himself.
Hecan…and Rowan needs to believe it now, even more than before he went to the store.
Still, the fear sinks in and won’t let go.
His mates and his children have been taken.
He knows that to be true without a doubt, because they sure as fuck would have waited for him to come back from the store first if it had been voluntary. Plus, if the dead bodies of the interlopers weren’t clogging up their tiny apartment, the threat had to be serious.
Grabbing the cell phone, he checks for messages. When there aren’t any, he types something for Jay and Gideon before erasing it. He starts again and erases that, too.
What can he say? He lost them? They’ve been taken, and he doesn’t know anything? He can’t call to say it either. Just hearing it out loud would be so much worse.
Rowan knows he’s let them all down—for the chance of having happy mates and a chocolate brownie.
He’d let his desire to please overshadow any fucking common sense.
It’s shameful. Jay is going to be disappointed, and Gideon…well, that doesn’t bear thinking about right now. Not to mention that he has no idea how he’s going to get them back.
He’d have to know where they are first.
The idea brings with it a flash of relief. He’s the best tracker in their pack, and the scent of the decaying one is still so strong he could follow it across the city, even after all this time.
Wait. Hecouldfollow it across the city.
It will be so much better if he can find Nix and Luca and then call the alphas.
He’ll be contrite and maybe help Nix save the day—if he hasn’t done so all by himself already. Rowan’s heroic actions will be an accolade, not a disgrace.
Yeah, this is the best idea he’s ever had…so far.
With that thought in mind, he takes a deep breath.
He lets the scents of the hallway fill him up: cooking from the apartment next to him, a cleaning solvent on the floor, a bitter scent from the bug sprayer on the ceiling.
He remembers that he hadn’t smelled Carnell’s minions in the elevator when he’d come up, so they must have taken the stairs. And when he gets to the door, he can smell popcorn and—of course—that rotting flesh scent with its undertone of patchouli.
Magic, he remembers suddenly.
That explained why Nix hadn’t laid them out immediately. Goddess knows what that bastard had done to make Nix compliant.
Growling, he hits the bottom of the stairs and pushes the fire exit door open with such force it hits the wall—the impact like a gunshot in the narrow alley.
The alleyway is empty of any vehicles or people now, just two large dumpsters that throw a myriad of food smells and other detritus straight to his brain. He flinches and turns down his tracking nose to his normal level (what? It’s totally a thing). It’s frustrating, and no doubt what the abductors had intended to use to hide their scents, should the pack get this far.
“Fuck!” Rowan yells as he lets frustration feed his rage.
