Panic courses through my veins as I sprint down the hallways of the tunnel. My heart beats heavily in my chest, and for the first time in my life, I truly have something to lose.
My fawn.
No matter how hard I run, it’s not fast enough, and every single second I’m away from Clara is more time her asshole father has to grab her for the Lombardis to get their grubby hands on her, and if that happens…
I can’t entertain the thought. The Saint James family has no ties in the South, or at least none that we can lean on to extract Clara from an organization like that. So if they take her, I may not be able to get her back.
I throw myself onto the back of my bike and speed toward the apartment, not bothering to slow through red lights as I weave through the city. The drive has never felt so long, but then again, my entire world hasn’t ever been on the line like it is right now.
The brakes have barely stopped the bike when I shove the kickstand down and throw myself off the seat, sprinting up the front steps without hesitation. I should be smarter. I’m trained for situations like this, for stealthily entering buildings and neutralizing threats. But I’m not thinking rationally right now. I haven’t even taken the time to get backup. Another rookie mistake.
But it’s all irrelevant if she’s already gone. If I’m too late.
As soon as I reach the top of the stairs, I know she’s gone. The door is wide open.
Almost as if moving on autopilot, I take slow steps toward the apartment that’s usually an iron fortress, as if seeing the empty space will make it any more real.
But it doesn’t. Nothing can prepare me for the sight of my empty apartment, the space that finally began to feel like home when I brought Clara into it.
The first thing I lock eyes on is the splatter of blood at the end of the bed and the black sheets my fawn was wrapped up in when I left her halfway across the room, and the pistol that normally lives on the underside of my bedside table is a few feet away.
She put up a fight. She knew where to find a gun and she used it without hesitation. If I weren’t so fucking terrified, the pride that beats in my chest might be enough to make me smile, but I can’t see through the fucking panic.
I pull my phone out of my pocket and shoot off a message to the group chat I have with the Saint James family. I could message them individually, and I probably should, seeing as Wynter gave birth only a few days ago, but I can’t do that right now.
Tommy: Clara’s been taken. I think the Lombardi’s have her. Her father plans to marry her off to one of the sons as payback for an old debt. I’m off until further notice.
Before I can click on Ace’s number, messages start coming in thick and fast, reminding me again why I have this chat muted and so rarely use it. It’s two in the morning. Why are none of these people asleep?
Wynter: WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN?!
Wynter: I’ve been on leave for four days!
Storm: What can we do? I can have a team deployed in an hour.
Rayne: I’m coming with you. I’ll be at your apartment in twenty.
Snow: Elijah is on the phone now. He thinks he might have ties in the South.
Elijah: We’ll get her back.
Wynter: Can someone tell me what the hell is happening and why no one else seems as surprised by this as I am?
Everett: I’m tracking the cameras around your place now. I think I have the car. They left half an hour ago.
I huff out an annoyed sigh, but how can I be irritated when all they want to do is help? Even though by helping, they could very well start a war.
Tommy: I’m getting Ace on it. I’ll let you know if we need anything.
I set the chat to mute and click Ace’s name. He’s never received as many calls from me as he has recently, and the motherfucker is going to be smug as hell about how much I’ve needed him.
“Again?” Ace’s sleep-filled voice fills the line and I do a double take at the time. He’s usually more of a night owl and will sleep in the early hours of the morning if he decides to sleep at all.
“They’ve got Clara.”
The sound of sheets rustling fills the line, followed a second later by footsteps. “Fuck. Okay. How long ago?”
“Everett thinks he’s got the car on camera leaving my building half an hour ago.”
“Why the fuck was she alone?” he snaps.
“Because I had shit I needed to do and my apartment has more locks on the door than a fucking bank does. I thought she’d be safe.”
He mutters something under his breath, and although he’s attacking me, I know I’m not the reason he’s lashing out. Our foster sister is. The one that got away or was sold before we could save her is probably more accurate.
“Her father intends to give her to the Lombardi family to marry one of their sons as penance for stealing from them all those years ago,” I tell him.
“What the hell did they steal that’s worth a human life?”
I let out an unsteady sigh. “I don’t know. Information, I think. It didn’t seem important until now. I have a guy, one of Lombardi’s men, I think, tied up and half mutilated in the tunnels, but when he told me he was the decoy, I ran without getting any more information.”
If it was anyone other than Clara, I would have been more careful, would have made sure I got every little piece of information to best help us get her back, but I was blinded by terror, an emotion I haven’t felt since the day my foster father took us to The Factory.
“We’ll get her back, Tommy.” It’s a promise we both know he shouldn’t make, one I made him many years ago and have never been able to follow through on.
