31. Maverick
31
MAVERICK
A prickling sensation came over me, and it took me a moment to realize something was wrong.
Something was really fucking wrong.
Mila’s food had arrived, but the girl was nowhere to be found. I would have gone to look for her earlier had her tracking location not indicated she was still in the club.
Perhaps she got curious and went exploring, but that didn’t seem right.
Mila wasn’t the kind to just wander off by herself exploring the place, mostly because she still wasn’t sure of her place in our lives. I would make sure that changed soon. She would know she belonged to us and that was all there was to it.
I frowned, and Killian pushed off the wall where he had been standing.
If I didn’t know any better, I would have said he was bored, but I knew why he’d chosen that position. It offered the view of the office door, and he was waiting for her to show back up. Killian could pretend all he wanted, but Mila was getting to him, too.
“Something’s wrong,” he said, his eyes moving to her untouched plate. The food was getting cold. Silas frowned at us from where he was sitting.
It hadn’t been that long since she’d left for the bathroom, but it was longer than it should have taken her. And I couldn’t fucking shake off the feeling.
I pushed back from the chair and stood. My brothers followed me out of the office. The bathroom door was closed. I tried the handle. Locked.
I knocked on the door and waited. No answer.
Silas roughly knocked on the door three times. “Mila!”
“Stand back,” Killian said. We waited as he kicked on the door near the handle. It took a few times before the wood caved beneath the pressure, cracking the door enough that we could shove it open.
We went into the small area and checked the stalls. It was as suspected.
The bathroom was fucking empty. I emerged from one of the stalls and stopped where Silas stood by the sink. All color seemed to have drained from his face as he stared down at the bloody object there.
I had a bad feeling about what it might be.
I walked closer and my brothers moved aside for me to see.
The fucking tracker. No fucking bigger than a grain of rice, yet it stood out in contrast against the white porcelain sink.
There was no way she’d dug this out on her own.
She had help. But who?
A dead fucker, by my count.
Fifteen minutes later, we were sitting at my desk, taking in the video of the camera feed, watching as Mila listened in on us through the fucking door, and ran back to the bathroom, Zoe on her fucking heels. When they both emerged from the bathroom about five minutes after that, Mila was wearing a black hoodie that didn’t belong to her, fleeing out the back door.
And Zoe. Fucking Zoe walked away with a satisfied smirk on her face. I paused the screen.
“We’re not letting her leave,” Silas said vehemently, as if he thought it was even a possibility that we’d let her go.
We were in this deep.
Killian grunted and crossed his arms over his chest. “When do we leave?”
I shook my head. “Not yet. Not until we take care of some unfinished business.”
I pointed to the screen, at Zoe’s face.
My brothers nodded in agreement.
Take care of unfinished business first, then get Mila back.
There was no other option but this.
It was time to go hunting.