Page 155 of Healed

“I’d like to think the situation is a bit different now. First of all, when she saved you the last time, you were surrounded by her dad’s men without even knowing. Your life was legitimately in danger.”

“You’re adding logic again, Dante,” I growled.

“My bad,” he smirked.

I was quiet for a moment before saying, “I can’t let her leave.”

“You know what I’m going to say to that,” he shrugged.

“For the last time, I’m not installing a tracker on her!”

“Worked for Rachel.”

“Rachel thinks she has a tracker on her phone. Rachel reluctantly accepted the tracker on the phone. Rachel has no idea that when we kidnapped Axel and I stabbed her in the neck with a sedative that we also implanted a tracker in her neck as well. Rachel will kill the fucking lot of us if she finds out.”

“She’s not going to find out, and neither will Gabriella.”

“Yeah, good luck if you ever want to take her abroad. I imagine walking through the metal detector will go swimmingly.”

“How embarrassing for you to assume I’d take her commercial. I’ve got friends in high places, you know. Private jet all the way.”

“And they say drugs don’t pay,” I muttered.

Dante laughed, slapping me on the back again, and I split off from him, heading up the stairs to Gabriella’s room.

I knocked on the door, not expecting an answer but knocking anyway. “Gabby?” I called.

Silence.

The same thing that had greeted me for the past few days.

I’d heard her laughing with her other visitors, but I got the silent treatment.

That was beginning to creep under my skin and piss me off more than I was willing to admit.

“Gabby, I’m going to come in.”

I pushed open the door and nothing—nothing—could have prepared me for what was on the other side.

My knees almost gave out immediately.

Her bed was a mess, the covers rumpled and unmade. The drawers were all open and clothes had been flung everywhere. I raced over, trying to see what was missing, mentally categorising everything that was missing against everything I had memorised as being there.

Her shoes were gone. Her phone was gone.

She’d left.

And she’d done so in a fucking hurry.

I stormed back out of the room, racing over to the stairs and flinging myself over the bannister at the top rather than climbing down them.

I hit the bottom floor with a thud and was on my feet in a second, racing through the bar.

“Dante!” I yelled. “Dante! Get Hacksaw. I need to know where her phone last pinged. Get everyone ready to ride.”

“What’s happened?” he asked, not moving an inch.

“I said, get ready to ride!” I snapped. “Oh, and get that fucking tracking device. I’m not joking,” I seethed, throwing open the door to the bar.