Fuming with rage, I repeated the exercise with the rest of Cal’s clothes. Literally, every hoodie, T-shirt, and pair of jeans had a tracker in it. I was surprised that the bitch hadn’t done his socks too.
What a possessive little fuckingweirdo.
Once I was done uncovering all the trackers, I stuffed them in my pocket and went back to my room.
I went through the same exercise with my clothes, feeling surprised that there were just as many sewn into my shit.
Damn, Damian. Didn’t know you cared.
Shaking my head in disbelief, I pulled out an empty duffle from under my bed and started stuffing it full of tracker-free clothes and some of my favorite guns. I also added a few silencers and my laptop, just in case. Adding some of Cal’s stuff, I slung the bag over my shoulder. Gathering up the trackers, I made my way to the mess hall.
There were some guys eating lunch, but I paid them no mind, stalking past them to the communal microwave.
Dumping the trackers in the microwave, I slammed the door shut and turned the bitch on high for five minutes before stalking away.
Maybe five minutes was overkill, but whatever.
I had a point to make.
The microwave started sparking and exploding as I walked out of the mess hall, pulling up my hood as I went.
“What the fuck, man!”
The guys eating were yelling after me. I ignored them and kept going, pulling out a cigarette as I walked.
Now that was taken care of, I needed to go make sure his sisters were on lockdown and teach Ryan how to use a fucking gun.
I would bet my left nut that the mortuary boy had no idea how to use a firearm, and if shit was going to hit the fan the way I felt like it was, he was going to need to learn fast.
I hated leaving Cal here, but he was right. This was Damian’s turf. If I went and tried to extract him without a plan, we wouldn’t make it out alive.
Isure as fuck wouldn’t. Damian was pretty sick of my shit. He might finally cave and decide it would just be easier to kill me. I had been rebelling against him for years.
Entering the underground parking garage, I eyed my Aston Martin regretfully. It sucked leaving it behind, especially since I only got to enjoy using it for like a week. But whatever, the G-Wagon definitely made more sense if we were going to war.
Throwing the duffle in the back of Cal’s car, I slipped his keys out of my pocket and hopped into the driver’s seat. Next, I flicked on the monitors on the dash and loaded up the camera feed he had installed in Ryan’s house.
Naomi had been staying there while Cal was out, and it would have made my life a lot easier if I only needed to hunt down Cass.
Frowning, I flipped through the feeds for each room, feeling a mix of annoyance and worry twist my gut as I realized Naomi wasn’t there. Ryan was in his office doing paperwork, Theo was in her guest house, and Iris was in the garden… There was no Naomi, though.
Switching to the feeds at Cal’s house, I let out a sigh of relief when I found her on the couch with one of her little friends, watching a movie.
Fucking Twilight too. Ugh.
Well, I would just need to collect her ass and bring her back to Ryan’s. The funeral home was detached and would make a better base for a gun fight if it came to that. Less chance of casualties due to bullets passing through walls.
Before turning on the car, I flipped to the feeds in Cass’s condo. She was home too, working away on some paperwork in the living room with a glass of wine.
Out of the two of them, Naomi would be the easiest to collect, so I would start with her.
Pulling out of Apex, I tensed, wondering if any of the guards had any orders to stop me, but nothing happened.
I smirked at them on my way by.
Later fuckers. I’ll be back to kill your asses in a few days.
Alexa, play: Smells Like Teen Spirit - Witchz
