Greyson
The text comes from Melanie’s phone, but immediately my gut freezes when I realize whoever is writing is not her.
Congratulations. You won.
I text back, And you are?
Melanie forgot her phone in the plane. This is Pandora. You won, I hope you’re happy. She’s on her way back to you. She’s blindly, hopelessly in love with fucking ole you.
The words wrap around me like some sort of blanket, heating me. At the same time, an oddly primitive warning sounds in my brain. I punch Derek’s number. “Where the fuck are you?”
“On my way back from dropping your queen. Why?”
“Get your ass to the airport and bring her back to me. Bring her back to me RIGHT FUCKING NOW!”
All my protective instincts have kick-started with a vengeance, mingled with the wild, primal excitement of what I just read on my phone.
She’s coming to me.
She’s coming back to me.
Twenty minutes of pacing later, I get Derek’s call.
“She’s gone. Taxi dispatcher saw her leave with a guy in a checkered shirt and boots.”
My stomach roils, and suddenly it all clicks, and my blood turns to ice in my veins.
Wyatt.
Eric’s familiar voice rings behind me. “Son, your father wants you . . .”
I’d been waiting outside his hospital room, waiting to talk to him, my checkbook handy, ready to settle things for Melanie, now I glance at Eric and grind my molars in rage.
“Tell him I’m gone. Tell him I’ll be back!” I run down the hall and pull out the keys to my rental, punching C.C.’s number. “Wyatt’s got her. Go to the south of the city, I’ll take the north, spread Derek on the east, get the rest of the team on it. FIND WYATT, HELP ME FUCKING FIND HER!”
Thirteen years I’ve looked for my mother.
Thirteen.
If Melanie disappears for longer than a day, I’m going to become a monster, a full-on monster on a rampage with one mission and one mission only.
Find her, protect her, keep her, mate her. NEVER LET HER GO AGAIN.
I’ve never prayed but I throw myself up to a god I’ve never believed in and yell at him to take anything, anything of mine he wants, but not her.
