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1
Gabriel
Idon’t consider myself a particularly violent person.
Despite being a vampire, that has never been my nature. But the moment I knew Calla was gone, an unfamiliar sensation sparked deep in my chest. Something dark and vicious. It threatens to replace the taste of her on my lips. Her sweet skin and rich blood. Two memories I’d never wish to part with.
A quick search of the house—the paper scattered on the floor in Atlas’s office and the obvious decoy note in the kitchen—told us all we needed to know.
Calla had run.
What it didn’t explain was why none of us could sense her anymore.
I’d been at work planning a new campaign for our senate candidate when the connection fizzled out. Like blowing out a candle in a dark room, quickly fading smoke is the only remnant of the flame that once burned brightly inside. One moment she was there, and the next, I couldn’t feel her at all. Where there was once a vibrating orb of warmth in my chest—the connection each of us has to her blood—was replaced by a cold emptiness that made me shudder.
Before I could contact any of the guys, Kade called me, confirming what I already knew—something had happened to Calla. Not long after, Brighton Ellis reached out looking for her, saying that she was waiting for Calla to come over but she never showed up.
While Atlas and Lex got on a flight back to the city from JFK in New York, Kade and I started searching. We couldn’t locate Calla, but we were able to track her phone to where it was left on the sidewalk outside of Brighton’s apartment building, the screen shattered.
Kade had stared at it for a long stretch of silence, focused on the fragmented background image of Calla and Brighton with their arms around each other as they smiled at the camera, with the Washington Monument in the background. I wanted to comfort him. Kade’s like a brother to me, and he was there through some of my worst years. While he doesn’t know the extent of the darkness in me, he never let me go through that shit alone.
I took the phone from his hands, and the hardness in his eyes as he looked at me did nothing but fuel the fire in my chest to get our girl back.
After a brief conversation, Brighton showed us the texts she’d received from Calla.
Brighton, we need to talk.
I have to tell you some crazy things that won’t make much sense, but I promise I’m telling the truth.
Please answer me. I’m freaking out over here.
Where are you? I’ll come to you.
Brighton?!?!
“I don’t understand,” Brighton told us, wrapping her arms around herself as her hazel eyes shifted back and forth between us. “She was so panicked, then she just stopped responding to me and never showed up. I… I didn’t know who else to call. Calla’s family is in New York, and you guys seem to be close to her, and I… I have to admit, I’m freaking out.”
Kade and I exchanged a quick glance before he glamoured her to delete everything and forget Calla had texted her. The last thing we needed was the Ellis family sticking their noses into this. We had enough to deal with when it came to them as it was.Damn vampire hunters…
“Gabe, did you hear what I said?”
Marcel’s deep voice pulls me back to the present, to the sitting room of his Manhattan townhouse. The narrow rooms with tall ceilings are decorated with art pieces he's collected over the years. The space is accented with dark blues and grays, glossy hardwood floors, with the smell of leather furniture and crisp citrus candles, which he seems to have burning in every room. It’s a bit overwhelming for my senses, but I do my best to ignore the dull ache it’s creating in my temples.
I blink at our informant, one of the few people we trust outside the four of us, then force a nod. “Apologies,” I mutter.
He rakes a hand through his mop of golden blond hair and sighs. “I get it, man. You’re worried about her. But it’s only been a week, and—”
“Just tell me what you know, Marcel,” I cut him off.
He offers a curt nod, not at all thrown off by my cool tone. “First thing’s first. There have been no further developments where Dante is concerned.”
My upper lip curls at the mention of him—the vampire who believes he has some claim to what isoursbecause he got screwed out of a job when Calla’s ancestor agreed to our protection in exchange for her.
“The guy has gone radio silent,” Marcel continues. “I had a friend check out some of the places he’s been known to frequent, but he hasn’t been around in a while. It’s safe to say he’s not in New York.”
A muscle ticks along my jaw, and I grip the armrest tighter. “Then where the hell is he?” The words taste bitter on my tongue, like drinking stale blood.
Marcel just stares at me, his silver eyes dark, focused. We’re both thinking the same thing—the bastard went to Washington. “Let’s think about this,” he says in a level voice, drumming his fingers against his jean-clad thigh. “We know Dante. He’s into the whole pomp and circumstance. If he took Calla, don’t you think you’d know about it by now? For the sole reason that the jackass doesn’t know how to keep his mouth shut. He’d want to brag, to shove it in your faces that he took something from you.”
