It’s true. That’s how it’s been for ages. No news, no leads, no sightings… not even a ransom demand or—God forbid—a body. There’s been nothing, and it’s thatnothingthat scares the ever loving shit out of me.
If… and I hate even think it…ifshe was dead, I’d know what to do: kill the fuckers who took her from me. If someone snatched her and was holding her for money, I’d pay it in a heartbeat. If she was being held for some sort of leverage—because she was an Offering and a pedigreed name in the Order—I’d trade myself, taking her place.
But nothing? Nothing means that I don’t know where to aim my violence, and there’s so much fucking violence in me these days.
I’m basically a ticking time bomb, and the worst part is that, when I force myself to leave my house to broaden my search, only four other people in the whole world can see past the good-natured grins and easygoing nature to recognize how dangerous I am.
Bas, of course, is one of them.
On the other side of the call, he curses under his breath. “Connor, I…” He pauses. “You know I’ll do anything to help, right? That I’m here for you.”
I do. Like me, Sebastien Reynolds is a son of a founding family. His is a little higher up than mine… he’s aReynolds, for fuck’s sake…but he’s also a second son. His older brother, Alexandre, is expected to carry on the family name, even if Alex is quickly approaching thirty himself without an Offering to Claim. Bas, though… a long time ago, he decided he wanted dick all to do with the Order. He’s been a town outcast ever since, sticking to fucking the Used, determined to never take a bride—especially after what happened with Julia.
But if there’s one thing I can say about Bas, he might hop on his bike and take off for the mountains outside of Harmony Heights when it gets to be too much in town, but he’s loyal as hell. I don’t doubt that he’s going to do whatever it takes to help me on my mission, but the way he says my name like that… there’s a hint of suggestion to my frantic and exhausted mind that he’s beginning to think that I have to accept the inevitable. That I should probably move on.
That I might need to prepare myself for the possibility that Haven… she’s not coming back.
Know what? I’ll burn this entire fucking city to the ground before I do that.
Despite the heat behind it, the thought reaches me with such serene acceptance that the easy violence doesn't even surprise me anymore.
Six weeks ago, it would've. Then again, six weeks ago, I was still pretending to be a normal person, hiding my true intentions behind a pair of blue eyes, a polo shirt, and a crooked grin.
Now?
Now I understand why people become monsters, if they aren’t born that way already. Here, trapped in the basement of my house, contemplating using my pocketknife to slice off the tongue of one of my oldest friends before he can suggest that I give up on my girl, I’m Harmony Heights’s worst nightmare.
I would never; at least, I’d like to think that I wouldn’t. That I’m not sure I can trust my own actions, I say, “Then keep looking, Bas,” disconnect the call, and pick up the syringe. I lift it to my mouth, use my teeth to remove the cap, spit it out on the floor, and jab the needle into my arm.
The sedative is definitely the good stuff. My eyes are already fluttering closed, my breath slowing down even as I jerk the injectable out of my arm and let the empty vial fall to the hardwood floor.
The last thing I remember before blackness overtakes me is Haven’s soft grey eyes pleading with me, her pouting lips formed to whisper a wordless plea, her soul reaching out to me, imploring me to find her.
I will, Haven. Iwill.
I promise.
FOUR
HOPE
CONNOR
Bang. Bang. Bang.
It takes a couple of seconds to come out of a sedated sleep. I hate the feeling of it so much that I wait until the absolute last minute before I rely on the medicine to knock me out. I feel groggy and stupid, my body weighed down by an extra hundred pounds. My tongue is thick in my mouth, and as the locked door reverberates, sounding in time to the knocking in my skull, I can’t find the words to tell them to go away.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
“Who’s out there?” I finally manage to croak out.
I blink once, twice, slowly sitting up. When I see the dark walls around me and the single lamplight in the cramped room, I remember where I am. Officially known as a panic room, I’d built it with a different purpose just in case I needed it. I never expected that I’d be the one who would use it at all, and no one is supposed to know about it.
No one except for the handful of guys I trust.
Bang.Bang.Bang.
“Connor! I know you’re in there! Open this door or I’m going to shoot the lock off and drag your ass out.”
