Chapter 5 Gage
Gage
Seeing my packmate clutch his stomach in the middle of our hotel room just underscores how fucked we are. “Are you sure you don’t remember anything that might lead us to this girl? Name, hometown, street?” I press Zeke for the hundredth time since he woke up this morning after passing out.
“Work?” Elias asks, unhelpfully, his skull-patterned ski mask covering the bottom of his face and muffling the word.
Zeke shakes his head. Brown, floppy hair mussed.
Big, dark circles ring his eyes, and his normally pale skin looks even paler.
“Nothing. I was in rut and drunk, man. She was clearly edging into heat. Once we realized what we’d done, she bolted.
” He groans like he’s been punched and curls even farther into himself.
The bite mark at the base of his neck is a bruised purple.
“If we don’t fucking find her, then you’re both dead. You do get that, right?” I growl.
“Nah, Gage. He missed it the first five times you told him,” Rafe replies in his usual entertained drawl.
Ass.
Rafe leans against the wall, flicking his Zippo lighter on and off—his only tell that he’s not as calm and amused as he pretends. A stress habit.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I answer on reflex, too distracted to check the caller ID. “What?” I snap.
“That’s how you answer the fucking phone?” The gruff voice on the other end makes me freeze.
I’m about to hang up on the bastard.
“Fuck you,” I say—but just as my thumb twitches to end the call, his next words make me stay.
“How’s Zeke doing?”
I look to Zeke—still miserable on the floor—then to Elias, who quirks an eyebrow, and to Rafe, who’s stopped flicking his lighter and is watching me with a concerned expression.
“Like you give a shit,” I spit into the phone. I don’t know how he knows about Zeke, and I don’t care. Gideon Corbin’s been gone. He doesn’t have anything to do with our pack anymore.
Even if a small part of me is relieved to hear his voice.
Corbin’s deep sigh has my alpha bristling. “I know where the omega is.”
I don’t have to ask what he means. We’re not playing dumb. He knows, and he knows where to find her.
“Where?” I demand.
“At Lakeside Point. I just texted you the address.” My phone pings and I glance long enough to confirm the text. “Gage, get here fast. She’s not doing well.” His voice carries a rough edge of worry.
“You know her?” I ask, rage bubbling up my throat.
“She’s a business owner in town,” he explains.
My inner alpha snarls. “You found our fucking mate and didn’t even tell us?” I demand. Every one of my packmates is watching me now.
“I’m not doing this with you over the phone. Zeke needs to get here now. How far are you?” At this point I’m fisting the phone so hard I’m surprised it hasn’t cracked.
“An hour,” I grit out.
“You can yell at me in an hour, then,” he says—and the line goes dead. I barely resist the urge to hurl the phone across the room.
“Can you ride?” I ask Zeke. He nods. “Then let’s go.”