“He went after her because of me,” My eyes squeeze closed as my mind starts conjuring all the ways he could be hurting her, because of me, because of what I did to his father. I don’t regret my choice in killing him, the only thing I regret is leaving Willow unattended.
I should have known better.
“We’ll get her back,” Malakai promises, his hand coming down onto my shoulder in comfort. If anyone here understands what’s currently tearing me apart it’s him, since Olivia was taken from him before too.
“I’m going to rip him apart,” I vow. “But don’t fucking think I don’t blame you for this Malakai.”
His chin dips in understanding, “I made a bad call.” He admits.
“Yes, you fucking did,” I snap.
“Tear into me when we get her back,” He bites back, “Focus right now.”
I grunt, turning my attention back to Dean as he works on the laptop he has resting on his knees.
“How long?”
“I need the software to update, his last location was tagged right here,” Dean flicks his eyes to me, but I don’t react like he expects me to. I already know he was here, already know he has my girl and I’m channeling all this rage and bottling it up ready to unleash it on him when I get the chance, “It’s due to update inthree minutes.”
“Can you make it go faster?” I snap.
“No, have some patience,” Dean says, “Give it some time.”
I grumble under my breath but don’t say anything else and instead head round to the trunk, hitting the button to open it. I lift out the floor and pull the box from its compartment, inputting the combination into the lock. It clicks a few times as the bolts disengage and then ticks open to reveal the weapons inside. All our cars have these and since I came straight from the hospital, I am unarmed. I ignore the pulling in my stitches and the pain in my chest as I arm myself, checking the weapon twice before I tuck it away, fully loaded, and ready to be emptied into Christian’s chest.
“Got him!” Dean yells, typing onto his computer before all our cells buzz with a new message. The address.
“He’s seven blocks from here at a motel,” Malakai inputs the address into the GPS, “How do you want to move, Bast?”
“We move now! I want Willow away from him right fucking now!”
My cell buzzes once more and a new message pops up on my screen from an unknown number. It’s a photo which means I have to open the thread to view it and when I do my blood goes cold.
Chapter Forty-four
Igroan as I wake, the pulse in my head beating in time with my own heart. Fuck it hurts, so bad. I lift a hand to my temple, remembering where he hit me and I find it crusted with blood, a small trickle of fresh blood staining my fingers.
“Smile, Willow,” His voice startles me, “I’m sure your boyfriend will be very happy to see you.”
I lift my eyes and see the same man I met back at the after party for Savannah weeks ago, the same man Bast attacked, standing in front of me. Christian.
“What are you doing?” My voice rasps from me, my mouth dry.
“Sending a photo of course,” Christian taps at his screen, “How else am I to show Sebastian I have you?”
“You’re fucking crazy, you know that?” I push up but I feel so damn weak, the fog hasn’t fully cleared from my head and my body is taking time to catch up. I let my eyes move around the room, we’re in a cheap motel room by the looks of it, the walls are a dirty kind of yellow color and curtains that look like they’ve been hanging since the nineteen fifties dangle, rather sadly in front of the only window in the room. The bed is small but I’m in a scratchy old chair, the fabric on the arms worn so much I can see the aged, brown stuffing beneath it.
There’s a broken mirror on a wonky chest of drawers at the foot of the bed, shards of the reflective glass laying on top while pieces remain inside the frame.
Christian walks toward me calmly, his face is purposely blank of emotion but there’s no way to disguise the cold, quiet hatred in his eyes.
He grips my face, fingers digging into my cheeks as he forces me to look at him. My nails sink into the worn cushioning on the arms of the chair. He’s armed so I have to be fucking careful about what I do.
“I really didn’t want to hurt you, Willow,” He tells me, “I didn’t but your boyfriend needs to fucking pay for what he did.”
“What did he do?” I ask, voice stifled since his hand is still on my face.
Christian sighs and I see the grief twist up his expression, “He killed my father.”
