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It took a lot to make me really, truly angry, but I was there. Scorch-the earth, take-no-prisoners enraged.
“You heard what she said?” My voice sounded harsh in my ears. I didn’t wait for her nod. “She said they captured Rafe. My brother, Ridley. If I don’t kill my father, they’ll make my brother a fucking blood slave.”
“God damn it.” She spun and smashed the side of her fist against the wall.
I glared at her, my anger wanting an outlet. But unless she was a world-class actress, she was as upset as me.
“This whole thing is so messed up,” she bit out. “I don’t know who’s running the show, us or Victorine and Moreau. But I swear I didn’t know anything about this. I didn’t even know Rafe had been captured.”
Her chest heaved. Her gaze willed me to believe her.
“Okay.” I dragged my hands down my face. “Okay. The motherfuckers have my brother. Do you know where he is?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. Montreal, maybe. But I think I can find out.” She grabbed her phone and sent a text.
The reply came back almost immediately.
Ridley’s lips pressed into a thin line. “He’s not in Montreal. He’s in Paris.”
“In Paris? Why?”
“Probably to rescue you.”
I cursed and closed my eyes. Getting up, I pulled on a pair of boxer-briefs and paced across the room. “Tell me Moreau doesn’t have him.”
Ridley pulled on a tank and a pair of boyshorts. “I don’t know.”
Her phone buzzed again. We were both on our feet now. She snatched it off the mattress and let out a vicious curse.
“What?” I grabbed the phone and stared at the message.
Twilight: With M.
“‘With M’?” I showed her the text. “Is that Moreau?”
“Yeah.” She swallowed audibly. “I’m sorry, but it looks like Moreau has him. Twilight is a slayer; she’d know.”
Blood pounded in my ears. My brain felt like it was going to explode.
Not Rafe. Please, not Rafe.
Not my kid brother. This wasn’t supposed to happen.
My fangs extended. The scars on my wrists burned and itched.
“That sonuvabitch.” I tossed the phone onto the bed. “That motherfucking, lying sonuvabitch.”
Ridley’s mouth was white around the edges. “This is so effed up.”
I took a deep breath, willing myself to calm down. “He’s dead. I’ll stake the bastard myself.”
Another text arrived. We both went for the phone. I got there first and read the message aloud. It was from Twilight again.
Someone informed on him. They knew he was here.
I felt sick. I shoved the phone at Ridley. “Ask who informed on him.”
“Okay.” She typed the question and hit Send.
