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“Gideon is agreatman.”
Without another word, he strode away and out the entrance before they could respond. Aidan, seeing the open disquiet of the other man’s spirit, muttered a hasty apology to his mate before he took off after him.
Sucking in a breath, Isaiah suddenly realized that Rukia was alone. He spun on his heel and took off in the direction he’d last seen her, unwilling to let her mourn in solitude when she so clearly needed a comforting presence.
Sprinting through the hall as if flames licked at his heels, Isaiah opened his psychic senses to help navigate the unfamiliar compound. He’d been here only once before, and the real estate he’d visited had been limited.
If Rukia didn’t want to be found, she could certainly evade him.
The sitting room where he’d left her was uninhabited, lacking even a whisper of sound. But he ventured on, slowing as his telepathy pinged against another mind in the vicinity.
Rukia.
Utterly silent, he peered into the darkened area of the room where he’d mentally located her. Isaiah stepped into the doorway as his eyes searched the space, discovering her huddled over a laptop.
Her eyes, however, were on the wall opposite her.
Unseeing, she stared blankly ahead, fixated on a shriveling potted tree that inhabited a corner of the room. Curled green leaves spread like a thick carpet over the wooden flooring, several floating downward as he watched.
The writing was on the wall: the tree was dying.
Isaiah’s feet guided him toward her of their own accord, his soul somehow lacking the ability to leave her in the quiet she’d found.
Rukia was being consumed by the potency of her grief, the palpable tang of it overpowering in her psychic footprint. Closing the distance between them, he knelt next to where she was seated. So as not to startle her, his fingertips gingerly brushed her hair from her face, delicately pinning several errant strands behind her ear.
The laptop screen wasn’t illuminated. It was as if she’d had an intention to work, but once she caught sight of the plant, something had changed within her.
He’d watched her fight through the earliest stages of grief, holding herself together as she ensured her community was safe. Rukia had set aside herself to function in Gideon’s stead, no questions asked.
But Isaiah knew what the price was.
As someone who did the same for his clan, the cost of leadership wasn’t lost on him. No one else was going to care for her while she cared for everyone else, and Isaiah couldn’t stomach the thought of leaving her like this.
Gently, Isaiah lifted her into his arms and nestled her limp form against his chest.
She didn’t resist, this woman who’d been forced to stand idly by while seeing her friend ruthlessly attacked. Instead, Rukia simply curled into him. For such a large personality, her slender frame was oddly frail in his hold.
Silent, Isaiah strode through the darkened halls of the building toward the exit. Though he had no idea of where his feet were leading him, he didn’t want to intrude on Rukia’s fragile state of mind unless it became absolutely necessary.
He’d anticipated that he’d run into Aidan or Lucy—even Tyee—and that they could tell him where her home was, but as he came into the great hall, he realized it was a fruitless hope.
No one was around, the building now devoid of life.
Glancing toward the lights above, he shut them off with a tendril of his power. The once boisterous room was suddenly bathed in darkness, the eerie hush crawling up his spine. The open windows to the west were illuminated by the stark white light of the moon outside, casting geometric patterns over the wood flooring.
Isaiah carried her through the doors and into the blushing twilight of night. Stopping once they were outside, he glanced at his silent burden.
“Where should I take you, Rukia?”
Instead of responding, her beautiful face snuggled sleepily into his shoulder, her lashes resting upon her pale cheeks. He wasn’t going to get an answer from her, stricken as she was. While he could take her to his home in Utah, waking up in familiar surroundings seemed a better approach.
Kidnapping was generally frowned upon.
Exhaling silently, he used the faintest glimmer of telepathy to grab an image of Rukia’s home from her mind. It wasn’t difficult; she seemed to be subconsciously broadcasting it outward.
Path set, Isaiah teleported to the image he’d taken from her thoughts. It hadn’t been far, but the night had grown chilly under the sway of the moon. From the street, he gazed upward at the structure. Elegant cobblestone steps paved the walkway toward the quaint home ahead of them.
Far from a typical midwestern exterior, Rukia’s house would have fit comfortably on a seaside expanse. The robin’s egg blue exterior was trimmed in stark white and lined by picturesque fencing. Above the glass front door were modern white columns that arched upward to hold a large balcony that spanned the entirety of the street side view. He could just make out a set of sliding glass doors that led inside.
