“He’s leverage,” Ryker growled.
“We don’t know that Steve and his pack actually pulled something,” August said, rounding on Ryker with an intense look on his face. “Dylan could have met his mom right when he got off the flight and forgotten to turn off airplane mode on his phone. We shouldn’t spiral.”
Ryker wished he could believe that, but he didn’t. It was too much of a coincidence, and the fact that they couldn’t find Dylan’s father in any of the clinics or hospitals he would have ended up in if he’d been taken away by an ambulance only furthered the certainty that Dylan had been tricked.
“Let’s go talk to Steve,” Ryker said. It was an abrupt decision. He walked into the hall, stalking like he was on the hunt, leaving August to scramble after him.
He grabbed his keys and pushed the button to summon the elevator, a furious calm having settled over him now that he’d decided to act.
August joined him a second later, handing him a jacket and nodding down at his boots. Ryker realized he’d been about to leave the apartment in just his socks.
“Right,” he muttered, grabbing his boots and putting them on.
They rode the elevator down to the underground parking garage beneath their building. The elevator stopped once, but Mrs. Patrick from the eighth floor took one look at them and muttered out a fearful, “I’ll take the next one.”
That was going to come back to bite him in the ass, Ryker knew. He couldn’t bring himself to care.
The drive to Steve’s building was a blur. Ryker was on the hunt, his laser-like focus turning time into a compressed haze. One minute he was pulling out of the parking garage and onto the street, and the next he was stopping in the fire-lane outside of Steve’s building and jumping out of the car with the engine still running.
August turned off the engine and jogged after him, catching up by the front door. It had a metal frame, painted black, surrounding a large sheet of reinforced glass. The door was locked, forcing Ryker to press the call button to Steve’s apartment.
When no one answered within three seconds, Ryker pressed the button again. He kept on pressing the button until the intercom light turned green.
“Hello?” a voice that sounded only a little like Steve answered. It had to be William, Steve’s younger brother.
“I want to talk to Steve,” Ryker growled, holding himself back from breaking down the door and storming the building.
“He’s at work,” William said. He sounded nervous. “He’ll be home later.”
Ryker kicked the front door, making it rattle.
“I called his station and they said he wasn’t scheduled to work today.” Ryker’s voice was a deep, threatening rumble. “Now unlock the door and let me in.”
“No. Steve is covering for someone who called in sick. He’ll be home later. You can come then.”
Ryker punched the door, the reinforced glass cracking under the impact. He punched it again, shattering the glass and cutting up his knuckles in the process. He reached inside and opened the door, barging into the lobby and running up the stairs to get to Steve’s apartment.
August followed right behind him, almost crashing into him when Ryker came to a stop.
He had no clue which apartment belonged to Steve. He lifted his nose, catching the other alpha’s scent, slowing down as he followed it up the stairs, turning right when he exited the stairwell into the hallway and following Steve’s scent to the second door on the left.
He kicked the door in, a frightened yelp coming from inside the apartment. He barged inside, August hot on his heel, and looked around the cozy interior with a cold gaze.
If there had been any doubt about Steve’s continued attachment to his home pack, it was dispelled by his living arrangement. A rookie cop living on his own could never in a million years have afforded the rent on a one-bedroom apartment in this neighborhood
“Steve’s not here!” Steve’s younger brother called from behind a door on the right side of the living room. Ryker marched over and kicked it open, advancing on Steve’s younger brother as he scrambled back and pressed himself against the wall.
Ryker knew that Steve wasn’t there – he would have smelled him if he was – but William would know just as well as Steve what was going on.
He’d also be a lot easier to beat up for information.
“Where’s Dylan?” Ryker growled. He grabbed William by the front of his shirt and lifted him up, slamming him into the wall and punching him in the gut. He would have socked him across the jaw, but August grabbed him and pulled him back.
“I don’t know, I-”
Ryker kicked him, getting him on his hip. He reached for him, wanting to grab him so that he could hit his head, but William scrambled under his arm and made a run for it.
August caught him, but when Ryker went in with both fists raised, he pulled the younger werewolf out of reach.
