Chapter 31 - Presley #2
"She's not here," I said, my voice breaking. "We're too late. He found her. He—"
Mr. Cheddar launched himself out of my arms.
He landed with a thump on the carpet, his tail lashing. He crossed the room in three bounds and stopped at the closet door.
He sat. Looked at us. Then let out the loudest, most insistent meow I'd ever heard.
And he started to purr.
"The closet," Fritz said.
Etienne crossed the room and pulled open the closet door.
At first, I didn't see anything. Just clothes hanging on wire hangers. A spare blanket on the shelf.
Then the pile of clothes on the floor moved.
A face emerged from beneath a cardigan and a pair of jeans. Green eyes. Black hair. Tear-streaked cheeks.
"Maeve," I breathed.
She stared at us, her eyes wild with fear. "How did you find me?"
"Your cat ratted you out," Fritz said, gesturing at Mr. Cheddar, who was now rubbing against the closet doorframe and looking pleased with himself.
"That's not my cat," Maeve said, but she was already scrambling out of the closet. "That's Presley's grumpy bastard who I've been feeding because she abandoned him."
"I didn't abandon him! I just—" I stopped. "Wait. You've been feeding him?"
"Of course I've been feeding him. What kind of monster do you think I am?" Maeve brushed off her jeans, trying to regain some dignity. "He showed up at my door every morning looking pathetic."
"He is pathetic," I agreed.
Mr. Cheddar meowed indignantly.
"Why were you hiding in the closet?" Etienne asked gently.
Maeve's bravado crumbled. "I heard footsteps in the hall. Heavy footsteps. I thought—I thought it was him. Callaghan. I thought he'd found me."
I crossed the room and pulled her into my arms. She was shaking, her whole body trembling like a leaf.
"He hasn't found you," I whispered. "And he's not going to. We're getting you out of here."
"Where?" Maeve pulled back, her eyes red-rimmed. "Where can I go so that he won't find me? He has money. Connections. He'll hunt me down no matter where I—"
"You're staying in my hotel," Hastings said.
We all turned to look at him.
He stood in the doorway, his arms crossed, his expression unreadable. "The Kensington Grand. Penthouse suite. Top floor. Twenty-four-hour security. No one gets in or out without clearance."
Maeve's mouth opened. Closed. It opened again. "I can't afford—"
"You're not paying." Hastings' voice was firm. "You're Presley's family. That makes you our responsibility."
"But—"
"It's the safest way for you to go through the bond severing process," Hastings continued. "You'll need medical supervision. Psychiatric support. A safe environment where you can heal without fear." He paused. "We'll pay for all of it."
Maeve stared at him. Then at Fritz. Then at Etienne. Then at me.
"You're serious," she whispered.
"Completely," Fritz said.
"But why? You don't even know me."
"We know you saved Presley," Etienne said simply. "That's enough."
The helicopter ride back to London was quieter.
Maeve sat between me and Fritz, her hands twisted in her lap, her eyes darting to the window every few seconds like she expected Callaghan to appear in the clouds.
Mr. Cheddar had settled on Hastings' lap, purring so loudly it was audible over the rotors. Hastings looked vaguely bemused but didn't try to move him.
We landed on the roof of the Kensington Grand as the sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold.
A woman in a smart suit was waiting by the elevator. "Mr. Hastings. Everything is prepared as you requested."
"Thank you, Samantha."
We took the elevator to the top floor. The doors opened directly into the penthouse suite.
Maeve stepped out and stopped.
The space was enormous. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked Hyde Park. The furniture was cream and gold, plush and expensive. A grand piano sat in the corner. Fresh flowers filled crystal vases.
"This is too much," Maeve whispered, her hand going to her throat.
"It's not," I said, taking her hand. "It's what you deserve."
"But I can't—"
"You can," Fritz said, moving to stand beside her. "And you will. If you're a friend of Presley's, then you're family. And we look after our family."
"We'll make sure you're safe," Etienne added. "No matter how long it takes."
"The bond severing process can be brutal," Hastings said, his voice gentler than I'd ever heard it. "You'll need time to heal. Physically and mentally. This is a safe place to do that."
Maeve's eyes filled with tears. "You're all insane. You know that, right?"
"We've been told," Fritz said, grinning.
Maeve looked at me, then at the three alphas who stood around us like guardians. "You're going to be wonderful parents," she said, her voice thick with emotion.
My hand went to my belly, settling over the place where our child was growing.
"We're going to try," I said.
And as Maeve finally broke down crying—this time with relief instead of fear—Mr. Cheddar jumped from Hastings' arms and curled up on the cream sofa like he owned the place.
Which, apparently, he did now.
Just like the rest of us.
We'd all found our home.