Page 4 of Toxic Revenge: Part Two

And Grave was a convincing bastard.

It was how he’d kept the club under his thumb for so long. People wanted to trust him because, at one point, he’d been trustworthy—and he played on that.

“That’s not fucking good.”

She snorted. “Yeah. Understatement. Even I might have believed him if I hadn’t gone on that hand off with Four Leaf. That sketchy ammo is involved in this, right?”

“At the centre of it.” I shoved the dresser back into place and took a step back to assess it. The floor was so scuffed that the marks from shoving the furniture around weren’t distinct enough to be a hint. “If you get shot, lock yourself in a reinforced room and throw out the key.”

“Not planning on locking myself away to die, asshole.”

“You won’t die. You’ll just go feral.”

I didn’t know if the bullets would work the same on a female alpha. There weren’t many around, so I doubted they’d been tested. Female alphas weren’t their intended goal.

Better safe than sorry. No one wanted a feral Gears.

“Feral? What the hell is going on, Arsenal?”

“No time to get into it. Just keep me updated on what you find. This phone number only, not any of our usual ones. And tell Hawk about what’s going on too, so he doesn’t get swept up in all of Grave’s fucking lies.”

“I’m going to need more details than that.”

I growled under my breath, the sound a clear warning for her to stopfuckingasking. “I need to find my pack and my mate. You’ll wait.”

Hanging up, I checked everything over once more. Nothing about the apartment looked suspicious. It was risky to leave those bullets anywhere, considering they were solid proof of nefarious dealings, but it was better than carrying them around.

And I couldn’t stay here with them.

Not when I was barely managing to block out my pack’s distress. I needed to go.

Now.

I slammed the door on my way out, the sound barely noticeable beneath the clanging of machines from the manufacturing plant downstairs.

Chapter

Three

TALIA

The grit of the cement bit into my palms as I pushed myself upright. My head was woozy, the world nothing but a blur of light and shadow. Every other sense was in overdrive, maximized by my heat.

My nose wrinkled from the stench of gasoline and diesel; fast food trash and human body odour. No hint of my mates anywhere. No scents that I wanted to be wrapping around me in my sensitive state.

I heard every rustle and footfall in the shadows. There wasn’t anyone close; but it was only a matter of time. I was catching attention. The wrong kind.

I needed to get out of here.

Yet despite my flesh being hypersensitive to every piece of gravel, each drop of sweat snaking down my heated skin, I couldn’t control my body. My limbs felt like they weren’t even connected to me.

All I could do was stay seated on the ground, rocking back and forth.

I need them to find me.

I closed my eyes, the blurry lights migraine-inducing.

Mercer. Conrad. West. Find me…