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My gaze shot to Fallon who clearly hadn't gotten to that part of the news articles either. "Did they describe her? Did anyone check on our women?"
"It was vague. Blonde. Pretty," Seth said, rolling his eyes. "In scrubs, they said."
My heart surged into my throat as my stomach dropped. My hand was already going for my phone, scrolling for her number.
"Call her parents!" I barked at Fallon on my way out of the door. "Answer your phone, goddamnit," I hissed as it kept ringing and ringing.
Everything was a blur as I hopped on my bike, and took off in the direction of her new apartment.
I hadn't been there, of course. But I heard Reeve talking to Cyrus about it. I'd seen the pictures of the girls doing a housewarming and house decorating party. Which really seemed like it involved a lot of alcohol and take-out and very little actual decorating.
I'd sat there seething in pure fucking jealousy and nostalgia, flashing back to that night we'd moved her into her first apartment, to the way she jumped at every little noise the neighbors made, needing reassurance that she was safe there, asking me to sleep on the floor next to her instead of in the other room.
It was the beginning of the end and I knew it at the time, so I had savored every moment of it, mostly staying awake all night, reminding myself of all the reasons I had to let her go.
Because she needed to go to school.
Because she deserved a normal fucking life full of animals and happiness and a man whose love didn't constantly put her life in danger.
I couldn't give her that.
And as I rushed up the stairs toward her apartment, I was starting to wonder if she even could have that while she was in town, if her connection to the club would forever put her in danger.
"Andi!" I called, slamming my fist against her closed door, heart hammering against my ribcage. Panic had a vise-like grip on my system, chasing away anything even akin to rationality.
Once upon a time, I would have had keys to her apartment, would have known her whereabouts.
But there was no time to harp on that shit now.
"Andi!" I yelled, wondering how strong the door was, if I could take it down.
"She's usually gone by now," a voice said, making me turn, finding someone in her early twenties coming out of her apartment across the hall, dressed in sweats, clutching her laptop to her chest—the typical uniform of college students with early morning classes. "To work," she added when my face must have stayed blank.
"Work. Right. Thanks," I said, already rushing down the stairs, racing right past my bike since it would be faster to get there on foot.
Work.
She'd gotten a job. I'd overheard a conversation about that as well. Then I'd needed to remind myself I had no right to be upset that I hadn't heard that information first hand.
But she had a job now.
And she wasn't home.
So she had to be there.
She had to.
Because anything else was completely unfathomable.
Sweet, innocent, kind Andi in the hands of some unknown cartel, terror gripping her system, no help on the way because no one even knew she was gone.
It was an image I'd tortured myself with over the years when I had ideas of confessing my feelings for her to her. It was the fate I thought I was saving her from.
And now, I'd pushed her away. I'd made it so she would never—fucking never—trust me again, and now she could possibly still be going through that exact situation I thought I was saving her from.
Worse yet, it wasn't like if Hope or any of the others would have been snatched, girls who had taken to their self-defense classes, who carried various eye-gougers and pepper spray with them at all times. Andi had failed miserably at self-defense. She refused to carry any of the items her father, her uncles, and even I had tried to convince her to have on hand.
She was defenseless.
Cursing myself, I pushed myself harder as I made my way up the block. Coming from her apartment, I came up on the vet's office from the back parking lot, fully intending on charging right into the back door, calling for her as I went, creating a massive fucking scene.
But even as I got into the lot, a familiar figure was emerging from the back door.
Blonde.
Pretty.
Wearing scrubs.
But not taken.
There.
Okay.
"Andi!" I yelled, rushing forward, watching as her head shot up, surprise and unease crossing her face in a blink.
"Niro, what are you doing here?" she asked, carefully folding her arms across her chest, her fingers reaching to grab the sleeve of her long-sleeve tee to drag it down over her forearm before looking up at me again.
"There was a shooting last night," I explained, taking a few deep breaths, trying to bring calm to the chaos in my system right then.
