Page 66

Click.

I get her voicemail for the sixth time tonight, and I’m starting to grow both annoyed and worried. Where the fuck is she, and why isn’t she answering?

Greyson comes storming into my office, a full blown snarl mars his face, showing off his canines that are just a bit too long by normal standards. He looks like a vampire in disguise to the average person, with his pale and freckled Irish skin inherited from his mother. “Care to tell me why Mallory ambushed Victoria today?” He’s pissed, hands braced on the edge of my desk and face red with emotion. “Is that why you came in today, Graves? So Vicky would be alone and Mallory could get to her without me there? That’s fucking dirty pool, man. What the fuck?!” he roars.

Mallory went to see Victoria? Something must havegone wrong. That has to be why she’s isolating herself away from me. I don’t know what emotions Officer Smith can read on my face, but whatever he sees has him changing tactics.

“What happened?” he asks.

“I haven’t heard from Mallory all day. She’s not replying to my texts, she’s ignored my calls, and now her phone goes straight to voicemail.” Nausea swirls in my gut as I remember the last time I couldn’t reach her. This isn’t that, I remind myself. Mallory is safe. She’s just taking some time for herself. “What happened when she went to see Victoria?” I ask.

“Nothing. Vicky told her to leave, so Mallory left.”

“Then why did you come stomping in here ready to break my jaw?”

“Because it sent Vicky into a spiral. The last time she saw Mal was the cellar, then the hospital…it’s all bad to her.” Grey replies.

I can’t help but be annoyed by what he says. It’s not Mallory’s fault Victoria was taken, Ted did that all on his own. You’d think Mallory’s presence would be the good parts of those memories. Victoria’s dealing with the trauma no matter what, she should be leaning on Mallory, not pushing her away. I don’t voice my thoughts though. Instead, I say, “But they didn’t fight or anything?” Grey shakes his head. “I didn’t know she was going to go there today, I would’ve given you a heads up if I had. I know Victoria is still very fragile, she went through so much.” So did Mallory, but it’s not a competition. I don’t get to decide whose trauma is worse, and what affects people in what way.

“That’s why I was so mad. I thought we were on the same page, but then I thought you went behind my back and just lost my shit. Sorry, sir.”

“It’s fine, Grey. Get out of here so I can finish up then find Mallory.”

Grey runs his fingers through his short, curly, ash brown hair then nods, turning and leaving my office.

Where the fuck are you, little siren?

Pulling out my phone, I open the app that will show me her location. I upgraded both our phones after being discharged from the hospital, and added her phone to ‘my devices’, so I can see her location up to date if the phone is on. The buffering circle goes around and around, searching for Mallory’s location. The little blue dot shows she’s halfway down the highway, and it was updated four hours ago. Her phone must be off or the battery is dead now. Shit.

I rush through all of my neglected work then sprint out of the station forty-five minutes later. Climbing into my truck, I try calling Mallory once more. Her voicemail clicks on again and my annoyance flares. Ending the call, I toss my phone onto the passenger seat. The engine roars to life and I flick on the police lights, tearing out of the parking lot towards her last known location.

Knowing Mallory, she could very well be sitting in her car at a rest stop off the highway, lost in her own mind. She better hope that’s where I find her, because after I ensure she’s okay, I’m going to stuff my cock so deep inside her, she can never shut me out again.

Chapter Forty-four

Mallory

“WHAT THE FUCK!” a male voice yells. “Randall!” There’s shuffling, then more rushed words I can’t decipher. Quietly as possible, I sift through the tool box until I find a screwdriver and a utility knife. Placing the toolbox back under the sink and closing the doors, my silence could rival that of a mouse. I dare not even breathe too loudly for fear of being heard. Slinking back across the floor, weapons in hand, I silently get myself into a standing position.

“Can you shut the fuck up, man?! What if they’re still here?” Another male voice, much deeper than the first one, whisper-shouts. I’m so fucked. Shit. Shit. Shit.

“I don’t think this was drug related.” one voice says.

“Why not?” the deeper, more level sounding man replies.

“You ever seen a drug-deal-gone-wrong like this?” They must be referencing Randy’s exposed rib cage. There’s exaggerated gagging noises, then one of the menthrows up. A smirk quirks my lips as a weird sense of satisfaction blooms in my chest. Why? I’m not totally sure, but I like the fact I disgust and scare these men.

“You okay, Chris?”

“Yeah, grab the drugs off the table, flip the house, then we’ll torch it.”

Fuck.

Footsteps move through the house, increasing in volume as they close in on the bathroom. I slide the blade up on the knife, and tighten it into place. Arming myself, I prepare to fight my way out of this mess.

I stand, observing myself in the mirror for a fraction of a second. There’s a predatory gleam in my eye, I recognize it immediately. It’s the same inkiness that invades the emerald forest of Nox’s eyes when he wants to hunt. My eyes look otherworldly, the golden colour almost completely snuffed out by the blackness, only a thin whiskey coloured strip separates the darkness from the whites of my eyes.

Crimson coats my skin, and I can’t begin to imagine the lanky stranger’s first thought when he’s startled by me standing in the bathroom. “Holy fucking shit,” he gasps. Blue eyes widening before lunging toward me.