Neil doesn’t speak again, only stares at me with his brow furrowed and mouth turned down. He reaches out and slowly places his hand on my arm again, gently stroking his fingers across myskin. The touch grounds me, as does the understanding shining in his deep brown eyes.
“Sorry,” I say, shaking my head in an attempt to clear some of the mental fog. “Being back here is harder than I expected.”
“Because what happened here was traumatic for you,” he says in a soft voice, tilting his head to the side.
I nod, my gaze moving down to my hands twisted together in my lap. Neil’s hand moves to cover mine, gently squeezing until I look up at him again.
“Do you not want to do this?” he asks. “We can think of another way to find your brother if going in there is too painful for you.”
I sigh. “We’re already here, so we might as well at least take a look around and see if we can find anything.” After casting another glance at the building, I take a deep breath and set my shoulders. “Let’s do this.”
We both hop out of the truck, and I walk around to meet him at the driver’s side, gravel crunching under my shoes.
“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” asks Neil, tilting his head toward the building.
“No,” I say honestly, shrugging. “But I am ready to get it over with.”
He only chuckles in response, reaching out to take my hand and squeezing my fingers as the two of us make our way to thebuilding’s entrance. A heavy padlock hangs on the door’s latch, but it’s not closed—odd, but convenient—so it’s only a matter of unhooking it and flipping the latch to get inside.
The interior is dim, the only light coming from the strip of narrow windows set high on the walls, and there’s a layer of dust on everything inside. Some shifter-size cages sit against one wall and metal shelving lines the opposite wall with a long metal table on the far side and a couple standing cabinets. A chemical scent lingers, but it’s old, and the stale air in here gives me the impression no one’s been in here for a while.
Something loosens in my chest, my muscles relaxing in tiny increments. A part of me was worried I misheard that night or assumed too much, that the humans might be gone but Wanda’s part of the operation was still ongoing.
But it seems that’s not the case.
And isn’t that a relief.
My memories of being in here are hazy, locked behind a layer of fog that I can’t clear, but instinct draws me to the back corner where there’s a small office area with a desk, a phone, and a filing cabinet.
Bingo.
I tug at the top drawer of the file cabinet, expecting it to be locked, but I’m pleasantly surprised when it slides open. Unfortunately,it’s empty except for some blank hanging folders. The same holds true for the other two drawers.
“Any luck?” Neil asks as he flips through a stack of paper on the desk. I shake my head and he mutters a curse. “So much for things being simple.” He sighs and glances up at me. “Any idea where else these records might be kept?’
I shake my head. “I don’t even know for sure that she kept records, but since the triumvirate took out the humans she was dealing with, it’s possible they traced things back here to Wanda. For all I know, they’ve already taken any records there were.”
He purses his lips. “I guess we’re going to have to figure out something else,” he says finally. He cracks a smile. “The first words out of Raquel’s mouth when we return empty-handed are definitely going to be ‘I told you so’.”
I chuckle and grab his hand, pulling him into a quick kiss before releasing him and heading back to the door we came in. As I cross through the doorway, there’s a sudden sting of pain in the side of my neck. I reach up to brush away whatever bug bit me, but instead of an insect, my hand comes away with a small dart.
One with the same blue and green fletching I last saw buried in Ollie’s white fur.
They’ve found us.
How?
They—
Neil.
No. I refuse to relive what happened to my brother.
Spinning around, I grab my mate’s shirt, pull him past me, and shove him toward the woods. The sudden movement makes a wave of dizziness come over me, but I grit my teeth and force myself to stay on my feet.
Must. Protect. Neil.
“Shift,” I yell, as blackness encroaches on the edges of my vision. “Run.”
