Chapter Twenty-Two #2
A man steps toward Jack, talking fast and panicked, but the words don’t register.
Instead, I’m busy feeling like I got hit by a freight train at full speed.
The hallway outside the elevator smells like an orange dreamsicle factory exploded.
And my alpha recognizes it for what it is immediately. An omega in heat. My omega in heat.
“Somebody tell me what the fuck is going on. Right now,” I bark.
The sound of it startles me almost as much as everyone else. I’ve never used an alpha bark in my life. I didn’t even know I could. Yet the command snaps through the space, and both of the beta men react.
Jack starts mumbling, but the man removing him from my arms looks at me earnestly. I think he might be the partner of Jack’s I was remembering, but my brain is currently a bit fuzzy.
“Ava is in heat,” he says quickly. “When I left to grab food, she was asleep in the nest, and Jack was in the living room. When I got back, neither of them were here. Both their phones were. That’s all I know.”
“What do you mean, she’s gone?” I demand, shoving past him into the apartment as if he might be lying to me.
The scent intensifies with every step. Sweet and rich, deeper than I’ve ever scented her before.
If I thought I was obsessed with it before, I’m a goner now.
Valentino runs to me, weaving between my legs.
I’d normally pet her, but I step over her this time, earning a disgruntled howl for my betrayal.
“Ava!” I yell, even though I have no real reason to doubt what Jack’s husband just told me. There’s no answer. I spin back to him and Jack. “Did you check with Tony? If she went somewhere, he would have driven her.”
“Tried but it went straight to voicemail,” Mateo says, settling Jack onto a stool and flicking on his phone flashlight to inspect the gash on his head.
“I left Shelby a message telling her to call me back ASAP. I was about to head downstairs and ask the front desk when you all got off the elevator. I don’t mean to be rude, but are you Mark?
And why does my husband have a head wound? ”
I rake a hand through my hair, pacing. My skin feels too tight, my body buzzing with a violent need to move, to hunt, to find my mate.
The word hits me with equal parts horror and absolute certainty. She’s my mate.
“Hey,” the smaller man snaps, sharp enough to cut through the fog. “I need you with us. I know you’re on the verge of an alpha breakdown or something, but my husband is bleeding.”
I force my attention back to him. “Yes. I’m Mark. I don’t know exactly what happened. I found him behind a dumpster about three blocks over. It looked like a police raid was happening nearby.”
He goes pale. “The suppressant raid?”
“Mateo,” Jack mumbles. “I was just trying to help.”
I hold up a hand immediately. “Stop!” I point to myself. “Manhattan DA. Remember?” Why are they so determined to incriminate themselves??
Mateo exhales and nods, then softens as he turns back to Jack. “How’d you hit your head, baby?”
“I was running,” Jack slurs. “Tried to dodge a gross puddle. Tripped. Overcorrected. Dumpster won.”
Mateo mutters under his breath and starts cleaning the wound. I turn back toward the apartment, fists clenched. “Where would Ava have gone?”
“I don’t know,” Mateo admits. “I really didn’t think she was in any condition to leave. After the seizure earlier—” He cuts himself off, glancing at Jack.
My hands curl tighter. “Seizure?” I grind out.
“S’okay,” Jack says weakly. “He knows now.”
Mateo mutters something about HIPAA and this damn family.
It’s mostly in Spanish, and mine isn’t good enough to follow along completely.
Finally, he sighs. “After she left the mayor’s, she went into full-blown heat in the car.
Tony called us. We called their mom. We think her fever spiked high enough to cause a seizure.
I got it under control and pushed back the worst of it, so like I said, she was sleeping in the nest when I left. ”
“Maybe she went to a clinic,” Jack says quietly.
Rage detonates in my chest, and I have to place my palms on the dining table and breathe through it.
“She seemed really adamant that a clinic was not an option,” Mateo says carefully, eyeing me with apprehension. “But I guess if the pain got bad enough…”
“Why didn’t she tell me?” The words rip out of me. I want to tear the apartment apart. Tear through the city. No one touches her.
Only, isn’t this exactly how Ava operates? She walls herself off. Handles everything alone, even when it hurts her. Especially when it hurts her. I can absolutely see her choosing a clinic over honesty and vulnerability.
My alpha is already pulling me toward the door. “I’m going to go downstairs and talk to the front desk. I can’t sit here and do nothing.”
I take the other elevator, the one that drops straight to the main floor.
The doors slide shut, and the sudden quiet surrounds me, making the noise in my head seem ten times louder.
I press my forehead against the cool wood paneling and breathe in through my nose, out through my mouth, trying to get a handle on myself.
I’m overwhelmed. Every interaction we’ve ever had now makes more sense when viewed in a different light. Yet I also have more questions than ever before.
Did she know we were mates this entire time and chose to keep it buried?
The elevator opens, and I turn immediately, crossing the lobby in long, purposeful strides. An older man with neatly combed white hair looks up from the desk, his expression calm, almost expectant.
“Good evening, Mr. Taylor,” he says smoothly.
I slow, caught off guard. “Hello. I’m sorry, do we know each other?”
“Ah, my apologies,” he replies. “I know you from the papers, of course. And,” he adds, gesturing toward a monitor on the desk, “from our security system.”
The screen shows a split feed of the main and service elevators. Not the first time he’s seen me enter Ava’s penthouse, then.
I nod once. “Right. Well, then you understand why I’m asking. I’m looking for Ms. Kendrick. She isn’t well, and she left earlier. Did you happen to see her?”
“Yes,” he says without hesitation. “She buzzed down and told me she couldn’t locate her phone and asked if I could call her a car.”
I perk up. “Did you call her normal driver?”
“No,” he answers sheepishly. “She couldn’t recall the number, and unfortunately, I didn’t have it on file. An oversight that will be corrected, I assure you.” He hesitates, clearly choosing his words. “She requested a… particular kind of car service. Which I procured.”
For a second I don’t understand, but then it clicks. Omega emergency transport. They only employ vetted betas and advertise discretion. I’ve seen their commercials late at night when I can’t sleep.
They typically provide transport to heat clinics.
I let out a sharp breath. “Do you know where she asked to be taken?”
He shakes his head. “I escorted her to the vehicle, but there was an alpha approaching, and I prioritized getting her secured inside. I didn’t hear the destination. Though I assumed—”
“I know,” I cut in, rubbing at my jaw. “Yeah.”
I force myself to straighten up. “Could you buzz her apartment and let her brother know that information? So they’re not left guessing.”
“Of course, sir.”
I turn toward the front doors, my steps slowing as I reach them.
I have no idea what to do now. My mate is gone. In heat and alone. I have no clue where to possibly even start looking, and worse yet, she chose to go to a clinic instead of letting me help her.
Left with no other choice, I flag down a cab and tell them to take me home. If she’s in heat, it gives me a few days to try and figure out what the hell to say to her. Or if I even want to talk to her after this.
I have no idea how long it takes to get to my apartment.
It could have been the normal twenty minutes or two hours, for all the attention I pay.
Memories of the last couple months—the last two years, actually—play through my mind, and I realize how many signs I completely missed. How could I have been so blind?
I pay the driver and head into my building. My clothes must have absorbed her scent at the penthouse, because it’s driving me slowly mad. I can’t decide if I want to burn my outfit or roll around on it.
I get off on my floor and punch in the code to my door, pushing it open.
The scent intensifies, and my head snaps up. The lights are mostly off, leaving the space dim except for the light coming in from the large window overlooking the city. But I can still make out Ava’s form, huddled on the couch, the blanket from my bed wrapped around her like a burrito.
“Hi,” she says pitifully.