Chapter 22
SEB
Iprowl back and forth, throwing up her mattress in a fit of anger.
“Where is she?” I roar.
Bram, equally furious, tears through her room like a hurricane. He throws open drawers and cupboards, hurling their contents over the floor.
Freddie peers out of her bedroom window. “She must have left this way.” He points at a staircase I hadn’t noticed before. “But there’s no sign of her. She must have left a while ago.”
Why did I insist on giving her privacy? I should have stationed one of us with her at all times!
I kick the nearest object within range—a wardrobe—and my foot goes straight through the old wood. “Fuck!”
“Have we been robbed?” Callen calls from the living room.
Where was he when we needed him?
“Ivy’s gone!” I yell.
“Actually, I’m right here.”
I spin to find her leaning in the doorway, arching an eyebrow in amusement. My shoulders sag in relief. She’s soaked—her clothes sticking to her curves, her wet hair curling at the edges, and mascara smudged down her face.
Callen looms behind her like an ominous shadow. He’s equally wet and, judging by his torn t-shirt, it looks like he’s been in a street fight with Scottish wildcats.
“What did you do to her?” I hiss.
Callen holds up his hands to protest his innocence. “Is this the repayment I get for bringing your girl back?” He shakes his head. “I’m taking a shower.”
I ignore him.
“Are you okay?” I quickly scan her for any signs of injury. “Did he hurt you? What did he do?”
“I’m fine.” Her cheeks flush. “He didn’t do anything.”
“If you don’t count multiple orgasms as something, then I need to up my game,” Callen replies over his shoulder before disappearing.
The awkward silence is filled by Bram crushing a Coke can in his fist.
“I needed some fresh air,” she says, smoothing over Callen’s comment without denying it.
“We were worried,” I say, which sounds feeble now.
“I can see that,” she replies, surveying the damage to the suite. She crosses her arms over her chest. “But I’m not your prisoner anymore, remember? I don’t need your protection.”
She’s right, but it doesn’t stop me from wanting to look out for her.
“We know,” Freddie acknowledges.
“It doesn’t seem like you do,” she snarls. “Look…” Her expression softens slightly. “Taking on the Killers Club is my fight, and I dragged you into it. I’ll do whatever it takes to bring Alaric down, but you don’t need to.”
How doesn’t she understand that she’s become the sole reason we do anything? No matter how much we try to pull away, she keeps tugging us back like we’re connected by an invisible thread.
“The Dukes have made their decision,” I say, hoping I sound strong in my conviction, like the leader I want to be. “We’re seeing this through.”
She smiles sadly. “It’s your funeral.”