Page 234 of Cruel Throne


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His brow arches. “We still have the last contact. The one Doyle named. If he’s alive, he’ll lead us.”

“If he’s dead,” I add, rolling my shoulder until the joint pops, “I’ll still make him lead us. I’ll just have to get creative.”

“You’re a sick fuck.” Rafe snorts, but it isn’t an amused one. It’s a tired one. “Your uncle’s going to want an update by sunrise.”

The word uncle flicks like a blade across my nerves.

He’s the reason I’m currently married in secret.

I turn my head slowly. “Then he’ll get one.”

Rafe’s eyes stay on the road, but his voice lowers, careful. “You’ve got blood on your collar.”

I glance down at the dark smear on the edge of my shirt. Not mine.

“Fashion statement,” I retort. “I’m embracing colors this season.”

Vin’s mouth flickers like he’s trying not to smile. “You’re going to get shot for sarcasm one day.”

“I know,” I reply sweetly.

By the time we pull into my estate’s gated drive, it’s 4:03 a.m. Rafe punches the code, and the gates roll open.

The moment the car stops, I jump out, desperate to see Victoria. My boots crunch on gravel. I throw the front door open, then step inside.

“Where is she?”

The guard blinks. “Sir?”

I stop in the foyer, staring at him. Who the hell does he think I mean? Why is he so fucking confused? “Victoria,” I tell him.

The guard swallows. “She was—”

“She was what?”

I don’t wait for the guard to finish choking on whatever he’s trying to say. Instead, I take the stairs two at a time. I hit the second-floor landing, then stalk down the hall until I reach her room. The door is closed. I throw it open.

The room is empty.

Before I freak out, I decide to check my room. Things are different between us now, so maybe she decided to wait for me in my bed.

I head down the hall, throwing open my door, but I’m met with the same sight. Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

My gaze snaps to the window.

Still closed.

Locked.

And curtains drawn.

My jaw locks so hard it hurts.

Where the hell is she?

I stalk back to her room and straight into the closet. One drawer is half open. Clothes thrown sloppily around.