“But what if he’s telling the truth, what if they’ve got Cate?”
Watt’s shrugged. “Ask Harper if he’ll send someone round to her place to check on her.”
Blake glanced at the door, then back at Jesse.
Watts adjusted his gun and widened his stance. “Go. I’ve got this.”
With a sharp nod, Blake rushed out the door.
Thank fuck. Jesse didn’t care if Blake believed him or not, at least things were in motion now. He hoped he hurried back though; Jesse didn’t trust Watts not to just take care of things himself.
Time dragged by one second at a time, not helped by Jesse staring at the door.
Despite watching it like a hawk, he still jumped when it burst open and two armed VLCD guards marched in. The first waved his gun in Jesse’s direction. “We’re moving him to the cells.”
“What for?” Jesse asked, but they ignored him, hoisting him from his seat and unshackling him from the table. A metal collar snapped around his neck, burning the skin, and Jesse hissed in pain.
“That’s just until we get you locked away. Then it can come off.” He sounded apologetic at least.
“What’s happening?” Watt’s asked, stepping out of their way but keeping his gun on Jesse.
“Cate Weston wasn’t at her flat and isn’t answering her phone. GPS puts her at his flat.” He nodded at Jesse.
Jesse wanted to scream.
Fucking Peter.
“Harper wants him in the cells while we go investigate.”
“What about the others?”
The officer grinned, raising the hairs on the back of Jesse’s neck. “Harper thinks they’re all fucking involved. Wouldn’t surprise me if they join him.”
Jesus fucking Christ.
They were going to put Raph in the cells? Jesse didn’t give a fuck about Peter—he deserved to be there. But not Raph.
This was all his fault.
“What about Ian?” Jesse asked. Surely they couldn’t think he was in on it.
For a minute he didn’t think he’d get an answer, but the guy sighed and faced him. “He’ll be tagged and then put in a cell for his own safety since he’s newly turned. He’ll be released to a coven when all this shit is sorted.”
“Thanks.”
The guard grunted, then pulled him forward. “Come on.”
IAN SAT THERE as Peter paced back and forth, trying to contain the hysterical laughter threatening to come out. Peter was insane. There was no other explanation.
The lies he wanted Ian to tell were so unbelievable, they’d be lucky if Harper didn’t laugh and lock them both up. Ian kept his mouth shut though. Everything about Peter screamed danger, as though one wrong move or word might set him off, and Ian refused to die—again—at Peter’s fucking hands.
“What the fuck is taking so long?”
Ian wondered the same thing? He’d expected Raph to be back by now. They’d had ample time to look at all the tracker data and form some sort of conclusion.
The thought made Ian nervous.
As did the way Peter constantly played with his phone, flipping it over and over in his hands, making Ian want to reach out and snatch it off him.
