Chapter Fifty-Seven
Cujo
The house is empty. So fucking empty that it threatens to swallow me whole. And it’s saturated in her sweet honeysuckle. The scent lingers, smacking me in the face as I barge through the door—a tease of something I may never have again.
No. Can’t think that way. I’ll burn the world down to find her.
When we step inside, Bruce barrels toward us, his claws tapping on the wooden floors.
He weaves around Gy and me, then dashes out onto the porch.
Once there, he searches for his mom, sniffing the air, running up and down the stairs, then raising his head to howl.
It sends a spike of despair through my chest.
The brute surges back in, nipping me on the hand as he passes. Hard enough to make me flinch.
“Ouch, you mangy fuck,” I yell at him, then instantly regret it. He’s just as confused and forlorn as we are. Willow left and never returned. And though I could imagine her leaving Gy and me when she realizes we’re no good, she would never leave Bruce behind.
“Don’t shout at him,” Gy reprimands, moving through the house toward the kitchen to feed the dog dinner.
My stomach growls, but my heart isn’t hungry.
Nothing’s going to be okay until we find her.
The bond in my chest is muted but still there, and I cling to it with every fiber of my being. It’s almost like she’s asleep.
Maybe unconscious.
Gy dishes out some kibble, each round pellet pinging on the side of the bowl. The sound echoes in the silent room, tension growing within. He places it on the floor, but Bruce just stares at it disdainfully.
Fuck. We need him to eat. When we get our mate back, her dog can’t have died of starvation.
“He likes chicken on it.” I cross over to the refrigerator, pull out the Tupperware Willow filled with shredded meat and toss some on top. Taking care of her dog without her feels wrong, but it reminds me of another dog. “Our omega said Bigfoot was going to sleep in the house tonight.”
“Maybe that should wait until she’s back?” Gy rubs his chin with the pads of his fingers. There’s nerves in his voice, and I get it. That dog is a freakin’ beast, but honoring our omega’s wishes—even in her absence—calms my Alpha instincts.
“No, we need to keep going with it,” I insist, not wanting to disappoint my mate. Bigfoot is meant for her sister, Oakley. She’s hoping to send him as soon as possible. When Willow comes home, I don’t want her to have lost any time.
Before we have a chance to argue, there’s a loud rap on the door, and we both shout, “Come in” simultaneously.
Fenrir flies through the doorway, letting the heavy wood slam into the wall. He doesn’t even bother to close it, instead immediately sprawling across the kitchen table with his open laptop.
“Fucking finally!” Gy shouts. Fen told us he needed to get his computer to confirm his suspicions. Cerberus trudges in, hot on his heels.
“I was right. I found it.” Fen’s huffing out air like he ran a marathon.
“Found what?” Gy peers over his shoulder, arms crossed over his chest. I quickly join them, feeling the excitement pulsing off Fenrir in waves.
“Okay, so you know how the video cut off from the inside? As soon as we got back, I pulled film from all the street cameras. Not strictly legal, but, well, it’s an emergency.
” Puffed up with pride, Fen presses play.
“I haven’t watched all of it. I just found the time stamps and rushed over.
Look, here’s Pup following her to work, then leaving without even getting off his bike. ”
That fucker is in such deep shit.
“I can’t wait to get my hands on him,” I growl.
“You’re going to leave the prospect to me,” Cerberus interjects. We’ll see. But now isn’t the time to argue about it. The video continues.
“Okay, so, everything is kind of quiet. And then, watch. Beatdown walks into the training center. Look, he turns and locks them in.” Fen fast-forwards since we can’t see much through the window.
Shadows move back and forth, but after watching Bert’s camera, we know what our omega went through. Rage builds below my skin.
Dead. They’re all dead.
We watch as he leaves, slamming the door behind him, and jumps onto his bike, peeling off down the street.
“I want him found.” My hands clench into fists.
“Already on it,” Fen agrees before slowing the video.
“Well, we know another club didn’t take her.
So, who did?” Gy’s musings mirror my own.
My lungs burn as I hold my breath, waiting for my honeybee to emerge from the flames, but nothing happens.
A small hand presses against the glass, but still, no Willow.
Were they wrong? Did she burn in the building?
I’m about ready to race back to town and go in there myself when a dark SUV flies onto the sidewalk in the video.
A figure emerges wearing all black. He yanks the door open with practiced efficiency.
He grabs Willow, throws her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, then deposits her into the already open rear door.
Hands pull her gently inside, and then the first guy returns to the driver’s seat.
It all happens so fast, and then the car is gone.
Seconds later, the windows burst, flames licking toward the sky, and then the night sky’s illuminated by red-and-blue lights.
Someone got to her. Someone saved her. Someone has her.