Page 14 of Bad Blood Alpha

Chapter 6

Flynn quickly scanned the room, trying to read what had happened, keeping one ear open for the sound of sirens. There was no way they were lucky enough that someone hadn’t called the cops.

There was a smeared trail of blood across the floor, ending abruptly right in the middle of the room. He rubbed his fingers in the blood and sniffed it, his stomach clenched. Not Kira’s. He was shocked at the relief that surged through him.

Why the hell should he care what happened to her? She was a fucking impostor, trying to scam him.

She might even have set him up.

He quickly checked the rest of the room. He could hear sirens approaching—they couldn’t be more than a couple of blocks away.

Everything of Kira’s was gone—there was nothing in the closet or the drawers. The med kit had been packed up, and there wasn’t even anything in the garbage.

She was gone for good. And she’d taken all his things, too. Bloody clothes, knives, both guns—damn. He was going to miss that Colt.

But it was his own fucking fault, following his dick and his feelings. He should have known better. He did know better.

But what the hell had she done with the hellhound? Had it escaped? Taken her? But why take her things, and Flynn’s? That wasn’t the way they operated.

He looked again at the trail of blood. Like a bleeding body had been dragged—but then why did it stop? It as almost as if…

As if she’d shoved it through a rift between the worlds, the way he had?

Dragons could do that.

No. She was not Princess Kiraset.

The sirens were right under the windows, and he could see the blue and red flashing lights.

He had to get the hell out of here. He told himself it was good that Kira had disappeared. He sure as hell didn’t need her fucking up his life. His crew had been through enough.

So had he.

His lion growled inside him. Find her. Protect her.

Fuck you. She doesn’t need protecting. In fact, he’d never met a woman who needed protecting less than she did. We have a crew to take care of now.

His lion just growled.

There were cops coming up the fire escape, cops in the hallway. He should have been gone ten minutes ago. What was it about that damn woman that made him forget all his survival skills?

He activated the bracelets again, ripping a hole in space and stepping through, sealing the rift from the other side just before the cops burst in.

He was in the spirit world. People didn’t usually go there in the flesh; it was for…well, spirits. If someone did venture in, and they made it out again, they usually either ended up insane, or someplace they really didn’t want to be. Only a few could navigate their way through it and come out where they wanted.

With the bracelets, Flynn was one of them. It made a decent escape hatch, if you didn’t mind drawing all the wrong attention.

And, if you were desperate, it was a good place to hide a body.

This time, though, he wasn’t on the grassy plain, and there were no signs of hellhounds. He was in a rough rock tunnel, damp and dark and dripping with water.

He hated it in here—he always felt like there was a mountain crushing him. But he didn’t have to go far, and this was the quickest way.

He focused on the rock wall beside him, brushing his fingers along it. Gradually, it grew transparent. He could see streets, the buildings—all condensed, going by at rapid speed.

The city of Nashville as seen from the spirit world.

There. It was an alley near the club—abandoned at this time of night. He did a quick check to make sure there was no one there—no one catching a smoke or a joint, no homeless person huddled behind a dumpster.