The moment he did, however, my nerves multiplied and my blood rushed out of my head, making me feel dizzy.
My apartment was trashed.
Completely, utterly trashed.
Sheets of paper were scattered all over the place. The couch and sofa had been aggressively torn, the cushion stuffing spilling out of them not unlike Mack Page’s guts had when Lucien disemboweled him. Glasses and plates were shattered all over the kitchen floor, spices spilled all over the counter, as if someone had pushed them away too hard.
Then there was my workstation. My wooden desk was no more; its legs were folded into splinters, as if something huge had sat on top of it, and the surface, along with the drawers, was carved out, as if whoever broke into my apartment was trying to find some hidden thingsinsidethe wood.
The deeper I walked into the apartment, the more my shakiness grew. Pictures I’d hung on the walls were completely torn and defiled. The bedroom seemed as though a hurricane had passed through, with all my clothes spilling out of the open closet, most of them completely messed with, as if someone had taken a knife and sliced everything in their way. The same went for my bed; the mattress was half on the floor, half on the bed frame, completely torn just like everything else, while the wooden bed frame itself suffered the same fate as my wooden desk: crumbled to the floor, jagged splinters causing it to look like a spike trap.
The only place that seemed to be untouched was the restroom. Thoughuntouchedmight be stretching it; the cabinet doors were open, with the towels and my toiletries spilled and despoiled. But the toilet seat itself was intact, and so were the sink and the shower. Though to be fair, breaking marble was much tougher than ruining wooden furniture.
“Drew.”
As though in a dream, I turned around to look at Lucien, who watched me with open worry. He searched my gaze before he said, “We need to see if something was taken.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. My vocal cords defied my silent commands.
Seeing my struggle, Lucien put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed for a short moment before he turned around and headed back to the trashed living room.
It felt as though I were gliding through a bad, disastrous dream, as I walked back into the living room, too, and took in the damage to my place. Sure, this apartment hadn’t been perfect. It had always felt temporary. A temporary home, without feeling like home at all.
But it didn’t deserve this. Not at all.
And it was stillmyplace. The one place that belonged to me. Seeing it abused like this made me feel sickly violated, so much so that I stumbled over the mess back to the toilet and retched.
Lucien and Thayer were suddenly behind me. Thayer held my hair back while I puked over and over, while Lucien crouched by me, his hand rubbing my back as he continually whispered the same words: “You’re safe. You’re okay. Your wolf is here ...”
Whether it was his words, or the fact I had nothing left in my stomach to empty, I slowly stopped retching and leaned back from the toilet, cold sweat covering my skin. Lucien held me, his arm wrapped around me, and I felt so tired, my head lolled on its own and rested on his chest, eyes closed.
It felt like everything that’d been happening since I saved Lucien a few days ago finally caught up to me, with the violation of my apartment being the last fucking straw.
An arm slid under my knees, and suddenly I was lifted up by Lucien, princess-style. I opened my eyes as he walked back to the living room and set me down against the wall. “I’ll look everything over,” he told me quietly, his gaze colliding with my own. “Just rest here for now.”
When Lucien straightened up, he turned to Thayer, who’d been silent this whole time. But his gray eyes were on me, filled with evident worry, even as Lucien spoke to him, saying, “Drew mentioned you think she’s in danger.”
“She is,” Thayer confirmed, before he reluctantly turned his gaze to meet Lucien’s. “I received a letter.”
He fished out an envelope from his backpack and handed it to me. I took it with still-shaky hands. “Read it now, Drew,” he said. “I’m afraid this can’t wait.”
I turned to look at Lucien and he nodded, face grim with fury. “Read the letter,” he said quietly.
Feeling depleted, I gave him a single nod, having no energy to even speak, before I unfolded the envelope and pulled the letter out. To my faint surprise, neat cursive handwritten words greeted me from the high-quality paper.
Then I cleared my throat and started reading out loud.
To Thayer Colter,
We are not strangers to your bloodline, though our names need not be spoken. Suffice it to say, we have long been near when you presumed none lingered. It is for this reason that our hand is turned to you, for your sister has proven ... difficult to reach by ordinary means.
Know that she is not unseen. Her steps are followed, her company observed. She strays where she ought not. You may not ken the peril in such binding, but we do. Her course, if unaltered, hastens to ruin.
If her life be of worth to you, then take her away. Bear her back to Seattle, where watchful eyes may grant her safety. Delay, and the hefty cost shall be hers to pay.
Think not that we are ignorant of what has befallen your line. Others before her were lost when heed was not given. Will you now forbear, and let another be sundered likewise?
This is the final courtesy we extend. Comply, and she breathes. Withhold, and she does not. It is as simple as that.
