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Yes. No. “I shouldn’t have left her in the first damn place. I warned Linnie the girl was terrified. She hated that room the moment I carried her in, Elias. I felt it, I saw it, and I still let Linnie push me out. Goddamn it.” Wrenching on his pants, he yanked the zipper up and slotted his belt through the buckle. “Where have you looked?”

“Grit has a team searching the grounds, but there’s nothing to suggest she left the building. Luckily, the snowstorm was brief; we only have a couple of inches on the ground, so outside activity is easily tracked.” Eli paused as someone on his side of the line called out something unintelligible. “We’re searching the upper floor now, room by room. Evander, Ericka, and Felicity are covering the ground level.”

Merrick sat on the bed to yank on his socks, then his boots. “Check the supply closet downstairs. I found her in there; she doesn’t know the building. When you’re scared, you go for the bolt hole you know.”

“Evander already has. It’s locked.”

“She’s covered her tracks this time.” Standing, he grabbed his shirt and the phone, striding with them in hand to the bathroom. Loading up his toothbrush, he juggled brushing his teeth and pulling on the shirt. “She’s not a threat, Eli. She’s scared, alone, with no voice to protect herself.”

It took thirty seconds to brush his teeth and rinse.

“She’s an unknown entity running around my club, Merrick.”

“With no clothes and a broken wrist,” he pointed out, heading out of the bathroom, through the bedroom, and straight for the front door. He snagged his jacket on the fly, almost ripping the door off its hinges, and slamming it shut behind him as his boots hit the porch. “I’ll be there in five.”

Ending the call, Merrick charged down the porch steps onto the path—both of which were clear of snow and salted, thanks to the grounds crew—and ran like his life depended on it. His boots thudded on the frozen gravel, his breath streaming out into the bitterly cold morning.

Guilt gnawed at him. He shouldn’t have let Linnie twist his arm. There was no reason why he couldn’t have seen Violet back to her cabin, then returned to sit with the girl so she wasn’t fucking terrified yet again when she woke. He’d talked himself into believing she wasn’t his responsibility, but the feeling of dread and failure were very much the product of a man, a Dom, who let the fucking ball drop.

Passing a couple of Grit’s team circling the clubhouse, Merrick bounded up the steps to the door and bulled his way inside. Tossing his jacket on a hook, he didn’t bother seeking out Evander or Elias, but strode straight to the supply closet and tried the handle.

Definitely locked.

Evander would have a master key, he mused. It wouldn’t take long to find the owner and get that key, but every second that went past was a second wasted.

Fuck it, he’d just pay for a new lock. For a new door if necessary.

Gripping the handle, he forced it down, feeling the muscles in his forearm bear the strain. Growling under his breath, he pushed his weight down through his shoulder, his biceps, until he heard the mechanism inside the lock screech in protest, then give.

He pulled the door open, immediately scanning the shadows behind the shelves. There were no tawny eyes blinking back at him, no pale face waiting for him. Just to be sure, before he let worry join the fray with his guilt, he squeezed around the unit to double check she wasn’t tucked away out of eyesight.

“Fuck, little owl. Where the hell are you?”

“Christ, Merrick, did you need to break the door?”

He turned slowly, glowering at the six-foot-seven behemoth now filling the doorway. “It was in my way. Did you find her?”

“We have things called keys,” Evander admonished him, although his words lacked any real punch. “Ericka and Felicity are clearing the bathrooms. The bar’s empty. Eli, Callie, Tabitha, and Linnie are going through every room upstairs that isn’t booked.”

Oh hell, if Tabitha was involved, there might actually be bloodshed at some point. She was Grit’s fiancée, a goddamn firecracker of a sub who was part pitbull. She scared half the club just by breathing, but she was fiercely loyal to her Dom.

“She can’t have gotten far. She’s bruised to high hell; she’s gonna be feeling that now. That wrist will be giving her some pain, and she’ll tire easily.” Meeting Evander’s dark eyes, Merrick bit the bullet. “When we find her, I want permission to take her home. I’m not knocking Linnie, but the girl has a serious phobia. She won't settle in an exam room.”

Evander’s expression softened. “We don’t know who she is, Merrick. Where she came from, what she’s here for. Yes, she’s injured, but why is she out here? There’s nothing around for miles. We have no idea if she’s of age, and she sure as hell hasn’t signed any paperwork. Linnie can make her comfortable while she recovers or until her family is found. If that means sedating her, so be it.”

The smallest, most pathetic sound caught Merrick’s attention.

Throwing a hand up to keep Evander quiet, he cocked his head. Where the hell had that come from? He gestured for his friend to repeat what he’d just said, straining to hear if the noise happened again.

Obligingly, Evander continued, his blond brows lowering into a slight vee. “Linnie says the IV needs to go back in. Fluids and rest are essential. God knows what damage the girl did pulling the catheter out. Keeping her sedated might be the kindest thing for a few days.”

There it was again.

Crouching, Merrick checked the lower shelves, but there was no naked female huddled on any of them, hiding amongst the bottles. Dropping to his knees, he leaned forward, pressing his hands and cheek to the cold tiles. “Evander, would you mind fetching a blanket, please?”

“No way in hell is she under there.”

Maintaining a calm, low voice, Merrick murmured, “She’s here. Hello, beautiful.”