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“Let's go then!” Mason yells, echoing my thoughts. “Let’s go get our mate!”
“Wait.” James holds up a hand, and a feral growl rips from me. A sound I’ve never heard before. “You guys aren’t going anywhere. I’ll take a team to the house. We can make entry and see if Summer is being kept there.”
“You want us to just sit back when our mate could be hurt?” I glower at him.
“You aren’t trained for any kind of rescue or recovery. You could very well put her in more danger by just charging in there. What if they hear you coming and decide to kill her before you can make it to her? Fuckingthink.I know you want her back. Let me and my team do it in a way that won’t endanger you guys or your mate.”
All the fight leaves me, and ice fills my veins when he sayskill her.I stand there in frozen horror, unable to move a muscle while my mind starts thinking of every scenario where she’s hurt, brutalized, or…
“Maverick,” James growls. It takes more effort than it should, but I move my head enough to look at him. “We’ll get her back. Call the rest of your pack and get them back here so she has you when we do.”
“No, I’m coming with you,” Mason says in a matter-of-fact tone that leaves no room for argument.
“If you’re going, I’m going,” I growl at him. I’m not having the two people I love most in this world around those fucking psychopaths without me there. They don’t get to hurt one more person. Not on my watch. I’ll rip out their fucking throats.
“Yeah, that look on your face is why you aren’t coming,” James raises a sardonic brow at me.
“I need this, Mav.” His words stop the fight brimming back up in me. Mason, who was hurt by this pack, too. Who I didn’t even consider might need some kind of closure. The look in his eyes says that if I fight him on this, if I try to keep him home with me, he might never get past this part of his life. Mason sees the acquiescence on my face because he turns to James, who he also needs to convince. “I won’t get in the way. I’ll stay in the car until the situation is…safe.”
James looks over Mason in an appraising way that Mason doesn’t balk at. Instead, he squares his shoulders and meets James’ eye. Eventually, James nods and jerks his head for Mason to follow him.
As the OPS agents and Mason leave, and I walk back into the pack house with Houston on my heels, I can’t help but wonder if when we do get her back…
If she’ll be in one piece.
Twenty-Three
Jade
“Why isn’t she awake yet?”
“The drug never made her pass out before.”
“This is a new version. Maybe her body needs to adjust to it.” Connor and Brody go back and forth, grumbling and complaining enough to piss me the fuck off.
“Both of you, shut the fuck up.”Before I make you, I don’t say out loud, but the threat is clear. Two high-functioning morons, but their personalities and ideals have always been on par with mine; so they were the least unappealing choices to build a pack with.
But the two of them together don’t have the kind of dominance I do. Practically betas in all the ways that count.
Looking at Summer sprawled out on the bed though, they have a point. She looks fucking comatose, still in the exact same position they dumped her in. Arms are at odd angles, and her legs are sprawled awkwardly across the bed. She hasn’t moved an inch. The drug never used to fucking paralyze her.
Maybe that dumb bitch gave her too much.
A few hours ago, when we got the call from the ex–Tatem–saying Summer was in her restaurant with one of the bodyguards, it was impossible to pass up.
After all the research I did into Pack Whitlock–including their romantic history–never did I imagine the ex-girlfriend would give us that kind of opportunity. My first thought was to use their exes to distract them one day. Keep them all busy at the same time. But Tatem…when I spoke to her that first time, the level of obsession she still harbored for Brooklyn Whitlock, I knew she’d be easier to manipulate than the Amanda bitch.
Then when Tatem called me–when I saw our shot–we met her at the back entrance to the restaurant and handed over the shot the Ellis’ gave us. The newest version of the drug that should last four months before a new dose is needed. But they must have given us too much in one syringe because she looks half-dead.
I walk over to the side of the bed and bend at the waist to peer closer at her. Maybe she’s faking it.
When I’m inches from her face, I bark, “Wake up!” My words are heavily laced with command. Nothing.
She doesn’t flinch, her eyelids don’t move a wink, and her breathing stays the same.
Pain reverberates through my hand as I smack her across her face to see if that’ll wake her up. And a little because the cunt deserves it. For thinking she could leave me. Humiliate me.
Nothing.
