She turned to face Ian, expression apologetic. “Shit, I’m sorry Ian, but I’m going to have to run back to my room to get my spare set.”
He stared at her, doing his best not to snap. Jesus, it wasn’t like they had anywhere important to be or anything. How could she have forgotten or lost something so integral as fucking car keys? “Hurry,” he said, trying not to sound pissed off. “We told Jesse we’d be there within the hour.” They’d already wasted ten minutes.
“I know, and it’s okay to be mad, Ian. I’m furious with myself.” She rushed towards the door. “I’ll be as fast as I can.” She was out the door in a blur of movement, and Ian rushed over to lock it behind her. The last thing they needed was someone uninvited popping in now.
He tried not to count the minutes, but he couldn’t help checking his phone repeatedly, anxiety building with each minute that ticked by. “Come on, Lys.”
If Ian remembered rightly, her bedroom was one floor below them, almost directly underneath. With the speed she moved, it shouldn’t take long for her to run down, grab her keys, and run back up.
Another minute passed and Ian started to pace in front of the window, the blackness calling to him. They should be out there already on their way to meet with Jesse.
He debated letting him know they were running late, but then Jesse would worry. If Lys came back soon, they could probably make up the time. Allowing an hour’s travel time had been generous for this time of night.
Another minute passed, and Ian wished he’d thought to get Lys’s fucking phone number. “Where are you?” he hissed, tapping his phone against his thigh. Almost a full eight minutes had passed since she’d left the room, and worry began to creep in. Maybe she couldn’t find them? Maybe someone had stopped her on the stairs?
Fuck it.
He was going to have to call Jesse.
With a sinking feeling, Ian scrolled through to Jesse’s number just as he heard the key slide into the lock. “Thank fuck.” Shoving his phone back into his pocket, Ian grabbed his coat and marched towards the door. If they ignored the speed limit, they could still get there—
The door opened and Peter raced in, slamming it shut behind him and charging straight at Ian.
“What the—” Too late it registered what was happening and Ian tried to dodge Peter’s advance, but he was way too slow.
With a strength that took Ian by surprise, Peter grabbed him and threw him. Ian’s head snapped back, hitting the outside wall with such force that blackness coloured the edge of his vision as he crumpled to the floor.
Fuck no, I can’t pass out.
He’s gonna kill me.
Pushing himself up onto his hands and knees, Ian expected another assault any moment, but his vision swam, nausea making him clamp his mouth shut, and with all the will in the world, he couldn’t stand up yet. Bracing himself, Ian took deep breath after deep breath, old habits kicking in, and waited for the room to stop spinning.
Peter’s shoes appeared in his line of sight, and the next moment he was being hauled to his feet and pushed face first into the wall. Something cold and heavy snapped around his wrists, and Ian hissed in pain because that fuckingburnt.
“Sorry,” Peter whispered. “That’s going to smart.” He lingered, his lips lightly brushing against the shell of Ian’s ear. Ian tried to flinch away, but Peter held him in place by his arms. “Those are iron cuffs, laced with silver. You won’t be going anywhere. Especially not to meet up with Jesse.”
Ian froze.
Peter stepped back, slipping Ian’s phone out of his pocket as he went. “I think I’ll take that.” He manhandled Ian until he was facing him. “And yes, I know all about your plan to throw me to the wolves.” He waved Ian’s phone in the air, lip curling up into a sneer. “Did you honestly think we’d just hand your phones back and that would be that?” He shook his head when Ian remained silent. “How fucking stupid can you get?”
Ian glanced towards the door, willing Lys to hurry the fuck up. Now would be a great time for her to come back and take care of Peter like she promised she could.
Peter followed his line of sight, a slow smile spreading across his face. It made Ian’s stomach drop.
She wasn’t coming back.
“Fancy losing her keys.”
Ian tried not to react, but a gasp escaped him anyway.
Peter reached into his pocket and drew out a set of car keys. “Was she looking for these?” He laughed when Ian’s eyebrows shot up. “I’ll let you into a little secret.” He leaned in close like someone might overhear. “Way back before I became a vampire, I used to be a pick-pocket.” He shrugged. “Some things you never forget.”
“She’ll be back in a sec when she can’t find them.” He forced himself to sound nonchalant, like he had every faith that Lys would be coming through that door any second. Even though instinct told him she wouldn’t.
Peter tsked. “I think we both know she’s not coming. Well, I certainly do. An iron stake through the chest is a bitch to try and heal from.”
Impossible as it was, Ian’s heart felt like it stuttered, his chest suddenly too tight as fear gripped him. “You killed her?”
