Luke was still screaming when he woke up.
Every night for the last two months Luke had awoken drenched in sweat, his mouth open, screaming at the horrible memory. It never changed, never stopped, never got better, never distorted. It was always the same. It was the day he finally got the answer to one of his questions, the moment he realized Johanna was his mate.
The four walls of his bedroom felt like they were closing in, and the air was too hot, too humid to breathe. He kicked off the covers and goosebumps raced over his skin as a brush of cool air flitted over him. He was the problem—not this room, not this house, not anything else. He was the one who was broken, the one who had failed.
He’d failed Johanna. Occasionally, Luke would relive his nightmare as a specter. His corporal form would float just above the unfolding scene, and in those moments he’d revisit everything. If he had taken more risks instead of being concerned about Zachariah stealing his power, if he had moved closer to Johanna instead of away, would she have felt safe enough to reach out to him then? Would she be in his arms right now?
Those weren’t the only times he should have fought harder for her. Luke would give anything to go back to the times he’d tried to speak to Johanna at work and she’d run away from him. If he had followed her, pressed her to explain why she kept avoiding him, would she be here right now? If nothing else, he would have finally known why she was able to combat the connection between them, the mate bond that had finally snapped into place in that cavern.
Luke would even have been at peace if she had outright rejected him. It would have devastated and destroyed him, but this? Not knowing if she was even … He couldn’t go there, not again, because if she wasn’t alive, he’d lose it. He’d lose every single piece of himself and spend the last remaining minutes of his life killing Zachariah and anyone else he could get his hands on before they took him down.
The only thing that gave him hope was that after being on the receiving end of Johanna’s powers, he knew Zachariah would never give her up easily. She was extraordinarily powerful. A feeling of pride for his mate flashed through his heart before it was crushed under the heavy weight of despair. If it weren’t for those powers, would she even be in that position?
No,she’d be dead.
That thought had him reaching out before his arm froze in mid-air, shaking so badly with the need to hurt, to break, to destroy with his rage. Luke took a deep breath, then another, and another, trying to settle his mind.
The simple fact was that if Johanna wasn’t powerful and Zachariah discovered she was Luke’s mate, he would have killed her, much like he had tried to kill Daniella. At least this way Johanna was alive, and Luke was sure she would stay that way.
But that still didn’t answer how Johanna had hidden their mate bond, and Luke was sure she had. Even if she were able to hide it from everyone else, he should have been able to feel it immediately. And why was it that he finally felt their mate bond in that cavern when she had seemed so … different? So real? When her voice seemed softer yet stronger than he had ever heard it, and she had become so determined, so protective over him? Why then and not before?
Luke rested his head back against the headboard and ran a shaky hand through his brown hair, swiping the stuck strands from his forehead. No matter how hard he tried to figure it out, he couldn’t. Every time one mystery resolved itself, another one unfurled. It was endless, and it would stay that way until he found her—and hewouldfind her. But rage still barred its fangs and tore at him, peeling back more and more layers until it reached his soul and covered it in something dark and sadistic.
Luke sighed. He couldn't keep doing this. He couldn’t keep being this way. It wouldn’t be good for the battle tonight, yet another attempt at finding her.
You’ll find her. You’ll find her,he chanted in his head, hoping that thinking the words would somehow make them come true.
Luke needed to move, to do something to keep his mind busy. Checking his phone, he saw he’d only slept for two hours and had another two before he’d have to drive to Greg and Daniella’s home for the strategy meeting. He cracked his knuckles and left his room, heading toward his gym where he beat and kicked the punching bag, unleashing a fraction of his wrath until the bag itself exploded. But even then he didn’t stop, not until he’d ripped it to shreds.
CHAPTER 2
The wind picked up, tousling Luke’s hair as he sped down the back roads to Greg and Daniella’s house. He’d be a little early for the strategy meeting, but he needed the escape.
Breaking that punching bag felt good, too good, and he would have moved on to something else if he’d stayed home. His emotions had always been a little too intense—passionate was the word Luke liked to use—but while he was known for being a loose cannon, for the first time in his life he felt like one.
Luke took another deep breath, like Dani kept telling him he should do, and let the fresh air carry away his thoughts. He wasn’t alone here, even if he felt like it in his rage and anguish. He was surrounded by people who loved him, people who were willing to fight to help him get Johanna back. And even though that was more than most could ask for, it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough, not until she was by his side.
Luke’s somber mood engulfed him as he approached the house. He swiped his badge and froze at the entrance when he heard Dani laugh, knowing he’d intruded on something. The sound was cut short, and Luke sighed before shutting the door.
Greg and Daniella were sympathetic to Luke’s grief and tried not to do anything that would remind him of his pain, including being affectionate in front of him. It hurt Luke to be grateful for that. He wanted them to be happy and had always pushed for them to be together, but if he was being honest, he couldn't stand seeing it now. And for that, he was a bastard. He loathed and cursed the part of him that couldn’t witness two people he loved be happy, not when he knew that his person wasn’t next to him.
But she will be, he reminded himself again.
As he entered the kitchen, Dani greeted him with a soft smile and met him for a hug. “Hey, you.”
“Hey,” Luke said as he feigned a small smile, but she was on to him. Dani squeezed his arm as they separated and her dark brown eyes met his, full of concern, worry, and something else.
Luke averted his gaze, not wanting her to see how close he was to drowning in the weight of his emotions, and instead looked over her head to Greg. “Sorry I’m a little early.”
“No, you’re actually right on time,” Greg said, exchanging a hug with Luke next.
Confused, Luke moved to join them at the breakfast nook, taking a seat on the barstool across from them. “Is something going on?”
Dani gave him a tiny smile, her voice soft as she passed him a manilla folder. “You should know before everyone else. I hope … I hope it helps.”
Luke looked between her and Greg, but their faces gave nothing away. Suddenly the folder seemed too heavy, as if it held the weight of his damnation, salvation, or both. Fear swam through Luke’s veins. He was terrified that if he opened the envelope, the small bit of hope he held onto would be ruined, that the ground would break open under him to swallow him whole.
“Go on, open it.” Dani squeezed his hand. “It’s okay.”
