Lydia. Lydia fucking Givens.
The stupid cunt had something to do with this. She was at the party rubbing elbows and smiling in everyone’s faces. I can’t believe Wyatt’s dad’s assistant would betray us, but she’s caught on camera punching a code in, letting an unmarked black van with blacked-out windows into the delivery area.
At least we know Lydia wasn’t working with anyone on the Council.
We’ve spent the last five hours combing through countless videos from the party. The main cameras were hacked, but whoever was responsible didn’t know about the cameras on the separate server for deliveries, allowing us a clear view of Lydia’s face. We know she’s working with someone, but because she isn’t part of the inner circle, she wasn’t privy to the upgraded security measures put in place after the two other girls were murdered. It’s too bad she left the party early. She’s just delaying the inevitable.
I look around the car at the varying expressions of my friends. Sebastian looks perplexed. A combination of puzzlement and anger mars his face, making me confused.
Leaning over, I whisper, “Why are you so concerned about her? You have barely spent any time with Ariah.”
“I don’t have to know her to be worried, Wesley,” he retorts, his tone chastising, like the idea of my question was ridiculous. “I could ask you the same question. Why are you so upset? Have you finally decided to stop being a dick?” He rapidly fires question after question driving his point home.
“Point taken, and no, I still don’t think she’s the right choice.” My answer feels like a lie coming across my tongue. One I’m not ready to admit to myself, much less out loud to anyone else.
Ariah is a conundrum that I’m not even trying to figure out. She is trying, stubborn, and not Elite wife material. I stand by that point, but she’s not a plant.Fuck.
I rub my hands down my face, trying to work through all the shit that’s happened since her arrival. Now’s not the time for this shit. Right now, we just need to get her back safely. I can deal with my confused feelings another time.
Looking up, I see we’ve passed the diner. We’re on our way to The Tombs. Lev has a better setup there. That prompts me to turn my gaze to him. He has pictures of the van up on his laptop. It has no plates or identifiable markers that could be immediately used to track it. Lev’s already at work tracing its route through CCTV. We should at least have an idea of where Ariah’s GPS signal went out.
I never thought I’d be happier about the level of stalker Wyatt is, but his overzealous need to protect Ariah might save her life.
“Do we have a lock on that traitorous skank yet?” Owen snarls from the back of the car. He hasn’t stopped playing with his knife. I’m almost afraid he will use it on just about anyone to calm his twitchy fingers.
The blaring of my phone draws my attention to the inner breast pocket of my tux. Thinking it could be my Dad with updates, I reach in and answer without looking at the caller ID. That was my first mistake.
“Wes, where are you? My pussy is wet and waiting.”
Cringing, I pull the phone from my ear and peer down to confirm the whiney voice on the end of the line is Samantha.She’s going to be a nightmare through this fucking process.
Refusing to deal with her selfish shit right now, I hang up and block her number for the time being. Dick move I’m sure, but I don’t a give fuck.
Ariah may not be my choice, but someone’s well past their place snatching her after she was officially pinned.
We pull up outside the Fraternitas, and a large frame is waiting— Thomas. Of course he’d forego recovery to ensure the search for his charge is handled correctly.
Doors snap open, and the five of us exit from the blacked-out Chevy Suburban.
“I’ve already been briefed on the situation. I’ll have everyone’s balls who was on duty tonight for this clusterfuck of fuck ups,” Thomas states. He appears composed, but the rigid set of his jaw and the focus in his eyes bring his anger at the situation into complete focus. He’s pissed— livid. If he wasn’t a consummate professional, he’d probably be flipping shit. This has to remind him too much of her—Tegan.
“Not if I have them first,” Wyatt mumbles as we head for the door.
The sound of a throat clearing shifts our attention to Sebastian. He loosens his bowtie and interjects, “Let’s just get the spitfire home, and we can Bobbit everyone who deserves it after she’s safe.”
“No, there will be carnage long before Ariah’s return. Lydia will be the first to taste my blade, and I’m certain she won’t be the last to lose their entrails before my angel’s home,” Owen huffs, picking something invisible from his teeth with Lola.
None of us bother correcting him as we walk through the halls because he’s right. The streets will be lined with bodies before this is all over.
“Damn fucking right there will be,” Wyatt agrees, pacing the floor, unsure what to do with all his restless energy.
Running his hands through his wheat-colored waves, Sebastian states, “Wy, sit down so we can plan.”
Ignoring Sebastian, Wyatt strides toward the bar instead, banging and slamming things in his effort to make a drink. Amber liquid sloshes the sides of the glass as he throws it back.
“You don’t fuck with the queen on the board unless you know you have checkmate,” he grunts, finally relenting and takes a seat around the table.
Someone made a significant tactical error in taking Ariah. As incorrect of choice I know she’d be as our wife, she’s still a Selected, which awards her certain protections.
