There’s no going back now.
With a deep breath, I open the book to the first page and begin to read.
Seventeen
GRAYSON
Itake the stairs three at a time as I race towards my apartment. Ethan, despite his grumbling, has been left outside. I would have no way to explain away his presence. Maybe if he had fur, I could pass him off as a huge dog, but with the way he looks now, people would go running in the opposite direction, screaming, “Monster!”
When I arrive at my apartment, I’m surprised to find the door partially open. Instantly, I’m on alert, my hands balling into fists as I venture a tentative step closer. Rigid tension ripples through me as I slowly push the door open.
“What the fuck?” I murmur, frowning as I take in the state of my apartment.
It has been completely torn apart.
My mattress has been shredded and tossed against the far wall, and the meager belongings in my fridge have been thrown onto the floor. Every drawer is open, and the contents in my closet have been torn off their hangers.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” I step over broken glass and hurry towards my bathroom, unsurprised to find it in a similar state of disarray.
Someone was here. And recently, if the faint scent lingering in the air is any indication. I may not have drunk blood recently, but my senses are still slightly better than that of a human, and this person—whoever he or she is—has a bitter scent to them, like rotten eggs.
I wrinkle my nose.
What the fuck were they looking for? This couldn’t be a normal robbery. I’m a broke-ass nineteen-year-old and have nothing of value. The only thing they could possibly?—
My chest hollows, and my knees begin to curl. I peel open the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. The fake wall is still in place, thank fuck, but that doesn’t mean much. My heart hammering like a runaway freight train, I dig my fingers into the siding and swing it open, revealing a hidden compartment beneath it. In it, I spot a spare cell phone, a few important photographs, and…
The pendant.
Relief loosens my rigid muscles, and I can finally take in a full breath.
Izzy.
My hands tremble as I grab the pendant and place it over my neck, allowing the gemstone to rest directly above my rapidly beating heart. I grip it tightly and take comfort in the repetitivethump-thump-thumpof the stone pulsating.
Izzy’s heartbeat.
I had this pendant especially made for Izzy a while ago. Not only will it allow me to feel her heartbeat, which is currently steady, but it’ll also guide me to her location. Already, I can feel the magic throbbing steadily, guiding my feet, propelling me in a direction that will hopefully lead me to my mate.
My relief is short-lived, however, when I turn away from the cabinet and face my ransacked apartment once more. If they were looking for this pendant, they obviously didn’t find it. But the question is…why? There’s no way they know the power it holds, right? And why would they want something that would lead them to Izzy?
Questions percolate in my mind, but I don’t even know what to begin asking.
Either way, I have to get the fuck out of here, and soon, before whoever it is returns.
Deciding quickly, I grab a backpack out of my closet, pick clothes off the floor at random, change into a clean outfit, and shove the rest inside. Most of my food has been stepped on or has gone bad, but I manage to find a few granola bars that I add to my pack. My usual water bottle is sitting on my nightstand, so I grab that as well, fill it with water, then place it in my bag. Finally, I grab the spare phone and charger before heading back outside.
I debate, briefly, sneaking Ethan inside the apartment to see if he can detect the intruder. But even as the errant thought forms, I dismiss it. Having him track someone who may or may not have malicious intentions will have to wait until after we find Izzy.
Besides, there are too many humans milling around for me to feel comfortable bringing him—including sweet, ninety-year-old Ethel, who waves at me from where she stands in the hallway, talking to Mrs. Melrose and her daughter Lucia.
Who the fuck knows what Ethan’s wolf would do to them? I know next to nothing about the state of his mind right now. For all I know, Ethan is gone, and his wolf is entirely in control. Doesn’t that happen sometimes to shifters?
I hurry down the stairs, the heavy backpack slapping against my lower back with every step, and then push through the front door of my apartment complex. I left Ethan in the woods, just on the outskirts of the parking lot, so I make a beeline in that direction?—
Only to pause when I spot a familiar figure leaning against her car, watching me.
Sydney.
