Page 41 of Entombed By Blood

Evelyn isn’t pack, but—even though I’ve blocked it—the thrall bond is still messing with my beast, fooling his instinct.

Finley keeps us updated. We sit through hours of listening to our omega get slowly more and more panicked as our table slowly fills with half-finished mugs of coffee and blood.

“Fuck this,” Vane mutters, sub-vocally, so no one else can hear. “We get her, now.”

There are nods from around the table as the rest of the pack agrees with him, and I sigh with the knowledge that, once again, I have to be the bastard here.

“No. We have our orders.” As shit as this is, Evelyn won’t survive if we break her out now. She’s too weak.

“What does he think about those orders now?” Vane growls.

Frost’s shuddering sigh echoes through our earpieces. He’s been keeping vigil with the rest of us, cursing Cain every time Evelyn so much as twitches in pain.“How long until permanent damage, Finn?”

“An hour, maybe two. She’s an elder, but she wasn’t exactly in good shape to begin with.”The uncertainty in his voice sets us all on edge.

“Need something more concrete than that,” Draven hisses.

“Fuck this!” Vane shoves to his feet.

I grab his arm and force him down into the chair. “We follow our orders.”

“He won’t let her die. Cain needs her,”Frost reminds us, but even he sounds uncertain.

Another hour grinds by like sandpaper on my skin. Every jangle of the bell at the door of the cafe becomes a small torture. Resisting the urge to glance at my phone every five seconds, waiting for that message, suddenly takes up all of my willpower.

If Cain has anyone watching us, we can’t give anything away.

When the tiny chime of an incoming text comes, it’s an exercise in restraint not to snatch my phone off the table.

Honestly, I’ve never felt more like an actor than in the long moment I feign lazy indifference before flipping it over and reading the message.

“We’re to go back to the apartment.”

Before I can warn any of them not to rush, or mention the other orders in the text, Silas erupts from his seat and heads for the door like a man possessed, Vane hot on his heels.

EvenDraven’sin a hurry.

I sigh and push out from the booth, chucking a couple of bills on the table for the waitress before I head after them. I catch up to them in the foyer, waiting for the elevator.

“Why are there no stairs in this fucking building?” Vane demands.

“Because vampires can just jump in the event of a fire, and the rest of us can be barbecued for extra flavour since we’re basically a meal to them, anyway.”

Finley’s sarcasm doesn’t make things any better.

When the damned doors open, we glower at the occupants until they evacuate the tiny space. Draven wastes no time in swiping the tiny key tag, which is the only way to access Evelyn’s floor.

It’s the longest elevator ride of my life. Cain gave her the penthouse, over a hundred floors up. A hundred floors between us and her.

If she dies, it’s all for nothing.

The doors spring open at last, and I follow the others into the apartment, nose twitching at the scent of blood and vomit which greets us.

My heart stops as Silas lifts Evie’s limp body from the puddle of blood on the floor.

“Bathroom, now,” I order, forgetting my own advice to remain unaffected.

“She tried to drain herself,” Draven notes, tone mild as he examines the wounds she’s torn with her claws on her inner thighs. “Didn’t go deep enough.”