He sighed into my mouth, a low, aching sound that shot straight through me. My heart was hammering so violently it hurt.
Graham broke away for a breath, his forehead pressed to mine, both of us panting.
“Quinn,” he murmured, voice raw, breath feathering against my lips. “God, I—”
A sharp, rapid knock rattled the door.
We jerked apart.
The door swung open before either of us could say a thing. Roman filled the doorway and for a second, I flushed with embarrassment, heat racing up my neck—but the emotion evaporated when I really took him in.
His chest was heaving, face pale beneath the glow of the hallway light. His jaw was tight, eyes blown wide—not with judgment or surprise, but fear.
Something was wrong.
Really wrong.
Graham was already pushing off the floor, rising in one smooth motion. “What is it?” he demanded, his voice cutting through the air as the haze of our kiss disintegrated around us.
Roman’s hand strangled the doorknob so tightly his knuckles had gone white. His gaze kept darting between the two of us, like he didn’t know how much he should say in front of me.
“You need to come downstairs,” he said, breaths uneven. “Something—” His eyes locked on me for a beat, and the hesitation was unmistakable. “Something happened.”
I scrambled to my feet beside Graham. “What is it?”
Roman’s jaw flexed. “Just…come downstairs. August will explain—”
“Tell me, Roman.” Graham’s voice was steel. I had never heard him use that tone before.
Roman froze. Whatever that tone meant between them, it worked.
“It’s Amos.” His voice wavered—not weak, but terrified. “He’s missing.”
26
Graham
Weflewdownthemain staircase, Roman leading the way and Quinn at my heels. The scent of her still clung to me, but I couldn’t think about that now. The fear was an ice-cold fist around my heart.
The living room was full of my family. Dad was lighting a fire in the grate, but the flames couldn’t chase the layer of frigid tension in the room. Mom sat cross-legged on the floor, the babysleeping in her arms. Hailey was curled up at her side, head in her lap, and eyes closed.
It was probably best that the two children were asleep right now.
August paced the room, phone to his ear as he spoke quickly under his breath.
Lark and Emersyn were wrapped in each other, expressions tight and complexions pale. Fox had his arm wound protectively around Skye as they stood by the hearth, watching the fire grow from sparks to a flame as Dad stoked and fed it.
“Reid,” I said, gaining my brother’s attention from where he was standing, face almost blank with shock, behind Lark; his hand tightened on her shoulder. “What happened?”
He looked almost green with nausea as he cleared his throat. He didn’t move from his place behind his wife, but his eyes were devastated as he looked at me.
“He escaped.”
It felt like he had driven a knife through my gut. I looked from him, to Fox, and finally to August, who was still on the phone.
“How is that possible?”
Reid looked down at the top of Lark’s head. The women were quiet on the couch, but as I looked closer, I noticed they were shaking.
