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Doc is in there with her. Originally I wanted to be the one who kept an eye on the doctors to make sure they didn’t harm her further, but when Everett suggested Doc, it made a lot more sense. He would know if they were doing something wrong, whereas the rest of us would be clueless.
“Is she okay?”
“Wyn, let’s just sit down. The doctors will come out and tell us what’s going on when they can,” Everett says softly, leading her toward a row of chairs I’m yet to sit in. The only time I managed to sit still was when we were in the ambulance, and that was only because Snow was in my arms, her warmth reminding me she was alive and that’s all I could hope for after what had just transpired at the church.
Wynter tugs her hand from Everett’s and follows me up the hallway, quickening her steps until she falls in stride beside me. “Are you okay, Elijah?”
I close my eyes and take a breath, shoving down the self-loathing and anger that threatens to tear through. “No, I am not okay. My wife is in surgery, no one has told me anything, and I don’t trust any of these motherfuckers after today.” I keep my voice even, not wanting to frighten her, because none of this is her fault.
Wynter hesitates for a moment before she reaches out and takes my hand in hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Snow is a fighter. She’s going to pull through just fine, and then we can focus on finding out how the hell today happened.” Her other hand rests on her growing stomach, absentmindedly rubbing it. She’s changed out of her dress into a pair of yoga pants and a sweater, but her bump is becoming more prominent each time I see her.
“Thank you, Wynter,” I say quietly, holding on to her hand for a few more seconds before dropping it.
Storm paces up and down the reception counter like a caged animal at mealtime. He’s just as close to losing his shit as I am, and I’m not sure which of us is closer to snapping. I’d like to say me, but I have a feeling Storm is feeling the weight of the world right now. He’s the only thing standing between us and a full-blown war with an enemy we don’t know, an unseen presence who seems to be two steps ahead of us at every turn.
I’m in no position to be managing the fallout from the wedding, and the responsibility is falling on Storm for both of us. I’ve never regretted not appointing a second in charge as much as I do now.
My phone buzzes in my pocket and I let out a growl under my breath as I reach for it. What part of uncontactable do these fucking morons not understand?
“What?” I snap.
“Boss, I’m sorry to bother—”
“What do you want, David?”
He lets out a breath on the other end of the line. “The warehouse has been raided by the cops.”
I stop dead in my tracks, my eyes meeting Storm’s on the other side of the waiting room. “Come again?”
“The Feds rocked up an hour ago and detained everyone in the building before taking all the drugs we had. They’ve cleaned us out.”
I rub my hand down my face. “The cops in this city know better than that.”
“Like I said, it was the Feds. I have the warrant and it came from DC. Whoever ordered this isn’t local.”
“Fuck.”
“I know you said not to bother you, but I thought you might need to know this.”
“Keep me updated.” I end the call without another word and take long, measured steps to where Storm has stopped to watch me. “My warehouse was just raided by the Feds.”
He doesn’t reply immediately as he considers my words, but the fury burning in his eyes is hot enough that a lesser man would take a step back. “While we were too distracted with the church fiasco…” He trails off.
“They’ll likely hit you next.”
He nods. “That does seem like the most logical next step.” His eyes dart to where Wynter is perched on Everett’s lap and sighs. “Fuck, I hate her being involved in this shit while she’s pregnant.”
The corners of my lips quirk up, but I can’t quite manage a smile. “Wynter is probably the calmest of us under pressure.”
Storm scoffs. “The most level headed, absolutely. The calmest, I’m not so sure.” He hesitates for another moment before crossing to where they’re sitting. “We have a problem.”
“You mean aside from my sister currently being on an operating table after her wedding was hijacked by a bunch of gunmen who we have no idea who they work for? Apart from that?” Wynter’s voice is even despite the slight ounce of hysteria under the surface.
Everett rubs her back soothingly, whispering something in her ear that makes her shoulders relax and she leans into him for support. “What’s going on?” he asks.
“Our warehouse has just been raided by the Feds,” I explain. “And I think they’re likely to hit you next.”
“The wedding was a decoy…” Wynter groans. “We need to figure out who the hell is coming after us, and we need to do it soon.”
