‘Quinn!’Xan’s voice shredded my mind, raw panic in every word. I fought to stay conscious, only keeping my feet because of the table at my hip.
‘She’s just gone.’Fear laced his every word, though his power in my mind eased. ‘Her pain. So much pain inside her skull, and now nothing. Our tether is blank.’
Icefilled my chest. ‘Where did you last feel her?’
An image of the dance floor, followed by a vague sense of the walls, filled my mind. I didn’t understand it.
‘The Lawson family surrounded her. I’m diffusing that at the moment, can you...’
Xan didn’t need to finish. Still braced on the table, I barked out orders to my closest enforcer, who took off running. A flurry of TB messages followed, demanding her friends check in. I forced myself to breathe, despising this part of my job. Instead of fighting, building, or searching for my girl freely, I was trapped here, in this tent. Because we still didn’t have The Mile. Until every vendor passed through and every entry had our gate on it, I couldn’t leave this tent.
‘A team is en route, reporting to Rowan.’I hated what I had to say next. ‘We don’t control The Mile’.
The weight of my words slowed our thoughts. Two years of work, financing, and planning went into tonight. We couldn’t deviate or we’d lose everything, maybe even our castle if the families were bold enough to strike back. We had to finish what we started.
I wanted to rip the tent apart, hunt her through the dark with rage and instinct. But I was commander first. My family came first.
‘I will manage with Rowan.’Xan’s voice was threadbare, unraveling. He was either reading my mind or had drawn the same conclusion. ‘Until The Mile is ours, do not leave your post.’
Guilt flooded me as we prioritized the family’s well-being over the woman holding our hearts, but it was the right call. The sooner I got through this, the sooner I could look for Quinn.
The pause ended. Partygoers spilled out laughing, unaware someone was missing. My someone.
“…three Lawsons. Young.”
“…all in white.”
“…fought his family.”
“…sided against the Architect.”
“…more Lawsons. Mind powers. Too dangerous to trust.”
The stream of people lulled.
I ground my fists into my eyes, just to feel something sharp. One breath. One second of weakness. Four factions tried to take her. If one succeeded, we wouldn’t know who.
My night blurred with the job I had to do: steer, sign, bind, repeat. By dawn, only six still kneeled on my floor.
Familiar baby blue caught the corner of my eye, bobbing with my lover’s confident steps, as he escorted Logan McDonald out of our gates. The Mixer was over. Quinn was almost in reach.
Logan saw me. His mouth closed to a thin line.
“Nothing changes,” Xan said evenly, showing Logan into my tent.
The small group of men, still unwilling to sign, looked up at Logan.
My lover ignored his enemies. “Your alliance is still your family. Hate me, plot against me. The land you build on is under my protection now.”
Logan grunted before studying the row of men still bound in my tent.
Time crawled. My TB buzzed, but I didn’t touch it.
“The McDonalds will not forget this,” Logan snapped.
They wouldn’t. The McDonalds built their family on slavery, one step from body snatchers.
“The world’s changing, Logan. I’m just speeding it up.” The Architect stepped forward and gestured to the map on the table. “The McDonalds can choose to evolve, or they can go down fighting.”
