Chapter 29 #2
I asked Mason to find Juliette after the night he admitted he abandoned her. I called it due diligence because I needed to know the truth.
“Juliette,” I say, and his eyebrows rise slightly, like I’ve caught him off guard.
“What about her?”
His voice is almost bored. I wonder how long she waited for such an unworthy mate.
“You left out the rest of the story.”
His eyes narrow slightly and irritation catches at the corner of his mouth.
“She’s dead.”
William inhales deeply, and his gaze slips past me. I want to find something human in him, if only for selfish reasons. Horror. Regret. Something that would make me feel less like I came from an empty place.
“Her death was reported to me,” he says. “The hospital called when she was sick. She wouldn’t eat. Failure to thrive is what they called it. I wasn’t qualified to care for her.”
Shame follows the hope that he was capable of any decency.
“You did nothing?”
He looks at me like I’m stupid. “There was nothing to do.”
Bianca’s bent brows come back to me, the furious way she kept working at a stain after I’d already decided the shirt was ruined.
William steps closer, one polished shoe stopping inches from my face.
“Give me a name.”
I keep my mouth closed.
The rope near Ezra’s hands brushes against the concrete and a guard beside the roll-up door turns toward the sound, so I drag my bound ankles closer to me. The knot bites at my skin.
“Where is the omega?” Alexander Barrett steps into view with a black case in one hand. His pale hair is perfectly arranged, as if he came straight here from a boardroom meeting.
William doesn’t look away from me. “We’re not finished.”
“The sooner we find her, the sooner we get real answers.” Alexander puts the case on a scarred worktable and opens it. Glass catches the light inside.
They don’t have Bianca.
But they won’t stop until they find her.
Vincent crosses behind them and stops near Owen. He bends, catches the hood at the crown, and tears it away.
Blood has dried beneath Owen’s nose and into the stubble around his mouth. One eye is swollen nearly closed. He blinks at the light, finds me, then looks past me, searching for Ezra and Tristan.
Vincent grips his face, smashing it between his fingers. “Where’s Miller?”
Owen says nothing, but his pain is clear through the bond.
Vincent’s fist makes contact beneath his ribs. Owen folds as far as the rope allows, which isn’t far enough.
“Where is he?”
Owen lifts his head and spits blood. “Not here.”
The next blow lands in the same place. He grunts and his body tries to curl around it.
Alexander glances toward the men near the door. “We can assume she’s with him.”
Vincent points at a guard. “Rivera. Get a team and find Miller and the girl.”
The roll-up door groans open. Soft rain blows across the concrete, slipping through gaps in the warped plank walls, and the old timber frame answers the wind with a long creak overhead.
At the edge of my vision, Ezra’s heel turns a fraction.
William sets the sole of his polished shoe against the side of my neck and adds pressure until swallowing hurts.
I turn my face enough to look up at him. “Did you know she was our scent match?”
His eyes flick to mine. “She’s just a girl, and you’re a Dashwood. Act like it.”
Just a girl.
Or everything?
“If I hadn’t ordered the DNA test when you were born, I would question whether you carried my blood at all.”
Alexander pulls Tristan’s hood off. Sweat has pasted his blond hair to his forehead. Alexander adjusts his watch until the face sits precisely over his wrist. “This has your name all over it, and I want it fixed. Now.”
Tristan looks from the watch to his father. “Compelling pitch.”
“Every authorization bears my name, and you’re going to reverse everything you did.”
“If I did it, why would I ever fucking reverse it?”
Alexander’s shoe drives into his side, and Tristan slumps. His stomach heaves once. When the second kick makes contact, he turns his head and vomits onto the floor between Alexander’s polished shoes.
Alexander steps back and checks the leather. “When you’re finished, we’ll continue.”
Tristan spits beside the mess. “I’ll try to hurry.”
A movement from Ezra catches my eye. His wrist appears beneath the edge of his jacket, wet and dark where the rope has rubbed it raw. A guard looks his way, and he freezes.
Vincent has Owen by the hair. “Your mother thought the villa in Lake Como would hide them.” His mouth curves into a grin. “I finally chose a pack for Emma. The papers are handled, but your mother disagrees. What do you think, son?”
“Enough, Vincent.” Alexander’s tone cuts across him.
“She isn’t going.” Owen’s voice is rough.
“You weren’t on the list of people to consult.”
Owen spits in his face, and Vincent drives him down until his cheek hits the concrete.
I get one knee beneath me, then William knocks me over. Pain tears up my calf as I hit the floor again.
“Down.” The command finds the old place inside me, but it doesn’t keep me there. I try again, using myself as a distraction for Ezra.
Vincent is yelling now. “Tell me where Miller took her.”
Owen’s swollen eye fixes on him. “I’d rather fucking die.” Vincent’s hands wrap around Owen’s throat, and horror hits me that he’s going to make Owen prove it.
Suddenly, he releases Owen and crosses the floor, rolling Ezra onto his back with his boot, drawing his gun. “Maybe they’ll be more inclined to talk if we start eliminating people.”
Alexander looks at Ezra as if Vincent has suggested closing a bad position. He shrugs. “Do it.”
The gun lowers toward Ezra’s head.
“He’s the only person who knows where they are.” It’s a bluff, and not a great one, but it’s the first thing I think of. I keep my eyes on him instead of the bloody hand hidden beneath Ezra’s back. “Kill him, and the answer dies with him.”
A phone rings before Vincent decides whether he believes me.
Alexander takes it from inside his jacket, checks the screen, and turns away to answer.
“When?” he asks.
Silence.
“Anaphylaxis?”
“Her? Why?”
Vincent steps away from Ezra. “What happened?”
Alexander lowers the phone. For the first time since he entered, he forgets to arrange his face.
“Emmett is dead.” Then he chuckles. “The bastard got taken out by peanuts.”
William turns toward Alexander. Vincent’s gun lowers from Ezra’s head, but only by an inch.
“And Bianca Quinn is his successor.”