Minutes later, my phone rings.
"Her name's Laney Parker," Luka says. "Flew in from Sacramento this morning. She's looking for her sister."
Something cold slides down my spine. "Who’s her sister?"
"Laurie Parker. Cocktail waitress. Worked three shifts at the Korolyov last week, then stopped showing up. Madison Bennett says Laurie mentioned going home after her last shift on Sunday, but never heard from her or seen her since. Phone's been going to voicemail for a week."
Fuck.
"Laney went to the apartment on Oakey," Luka continues. "Talked to the building manager. Now she's in an Uber heading back toward the Strip. Torres said Madison mentioned they’d had plans to go to a club that night, Vine and Crimson…"
Double fuck.
Vine and Crimson is exactly where Kaiden just told me the Albanians are moving from.
I get behind the wheel and start the engine. "Tell Kaiden I'm en route."
I disconnect and pull into traffic, heading toward the Strip. My mind is already working through the angles.
Laney Parker is looking for her sister. Her sister is likely one of Zajmi's missing girls, I'd bet my life on it. Which means Laney is walking straight into Albanian territory, asking questions, drawing attention.
She's going to get herself killed.
Or worse.
The Wolf in me recognizes the scent of prey. But there's something else too, something that fisted in my chest when I saw her photo. The way she looked so fucking determined despite the exhaustion in her eyes. The way she walked like she owned space she had no business being in.
Brave. Stupid.
Mine.
The thought comes unbidden, primal, and I shove it aside. I don't have time for distractions. I have a job to do.
But I'm still driving toward Vine and Crimson. Still thinking about sharp cheekbones and determined mouths. Still wondering what she'll smell like when I get close enough to find out.
Laney
The apartment on Oakey Boulevard looks exactly like the photos Laurie sent me two weeks ago, except everything feels wrong.
I stand in the doorway with keys heavy in my hand, the spare set Laurie mailed me with a pink Post-it note stuck to them."Can't wait for you to get here! We're going to have SO much fun! Love you!"
That was twelve days ago.
The apartment is silent. Not the comfortable silence of an empty home, but the heavy, suffocating kind that presses against my eardrums and makes my heart race. I flip the light switch.
"Laurie?" My voice cracks. "You here?"
No answer. Not that I expected one.
I move into the space and sweep my eyes over the small living room. My sight catches on familiar things, the thrifted couch we picked out together online, the string lights Laurie hung across the window, her collection of plants lined up on the windowsill. Everything exactly where it should be.
But covered in dust.
I move closer to the plants. They're all dead or dying. Shriveled brown leaves, bone-dry soil. Laurie would never let her plants die. She talked to them every morning, gave them names, sent me updates about "Fran the Fern" and "Pattie the Pothos."
My hands are shaking.
I force myself to move deeper into the apartment, checking each room. The bathroom, toothbrush still in the holder, makeup scattered across the counter. The bedroom we were supposed to share until we could afford a bigger place. Her bed is unmade, clothes draped over a chair, her phone charger plugged into the wall with no phone attached.
