I thought about banging on some doors, but figured coffee was more important. Caffeine first, then a group wakeup call.
After that, we needed to hash out the next phase of our plan, including what—if anything—we were going to do about Fiona.
I walked past the living room and peeked over at the couch, wondering if Gray and Asher were still cuddled up. I’d found them there late last night, and covered them with a blanket, but like everywhere else in the main area, the couch was empty.
I wondered if they’d decided to work out the last of their differences in a way that required a little less conversation.
In that case, maybe Iwouldn’tgo banging down his door just yet.
Chuckling to myself, I headed for the kitchen, but before I got much further, a strange sensation crept up my spine, raising the hairs on the back of my neck and stopping me cold.
I whipped around, certain I was being followed.
But I was alone.
I scanned the living room, convinced I wasn’t imagining things. Something was off—I could feel it. I could almostsmellit.
“Guys?” I called out. No answer.
I knocked on Ash’s door, but he didn’t respond. When I peeked inside, I found his room empty, his bed still made up from yesterday.
Gray’s room was empty too.
Ronan must’ve heard the racket—he emerged from his room, coughing like the devil.
“Damn, this sucks,” he said, clearing his throat. “What’s—”
“Gray with you?” I asked him.
“No, I thought she was with Ash. They—” I didn’t hear the rest. I was already bolting down the basement stairs.
Ronan followed, close on my heels.
“Darius?” I called down.
He was just coming out of his bedroom, looking as bleary-eyed and wrecked as Ronan. He was also coughing.
“Where’s Fiona?” I asked.
He looked around in utter confusion, his brows knitting together. “She was… right here.”
“Gray and Ash are gone, too,” I said, heading back upstairs. The three of us scoured the place, even checking the yard and the woods around the perimeter, but there was no sign of them.
My gut felt like I’d swallowed a handful of sharp rocks.
“Do you think it was Fiona? How late were you awake?” I asked Darius, trying to piece together the timeline.
“That little bitch,” Ronan said. “All that bullshit about how sorry she was.”
“I don’t believe it was her,” Darius said.
Ronan scoffed. “You don’twantit to be her. There’s a difference.”
“She was in restraints. I had my eyes on her until well after sunrise. It’s only a hour after sunset now. That wouldn’t have left her much of a window to escape.”
“Maybe she had help,” Ronan said.
“From whom?”
