I’m instantly on high alert when I hear how off she sounds. “Lark? What’s wrong? What happened?”
“I didn’t know who else to call, and I need help.” Her voice breaks on the last word, and it makes me want to burn down the world to make whoever hurt her pay.
“Where are you, Lark? What happened? What do you need?” I ask rapid-fire questions before the call abruptly cuts out. I immediately try calling her back but get no answer. After doing that twice more, I realize I’m not going to get a response from her.
I have the urge to throw my phone across the room to release all the worry and fear and rage that someone hurt her. But I know that’s not going to help any.
Instead, I pull up the info from the tracker I put on her bike. The one she absolutely doesn’t know about and I should probably feel bad about. Yet, it comes in handy now when she needs us, and I have no clue where she is.
The app shows that her bike is at her apartment. That’s going to be the first place we check, and I just have to hope that’s where she is. We don’t have time to tear apart the entire city looking for her. Not when she sounds like she’s barely holding on.
When I look up from the phone, I see Rook’s and Colt’s concerned faces hovering over me. “What’s going on with Lark?” Colt rumbles, even though he heard the same conversation I did.
I know he’s hoping for more info, but he knows as much as I do.
I clench my fists as frustration and helplessness flow through me. “I don’t know. She didn’t say much other than she needed help. Not where she is or what happened or anything to give me a clue. According to the tracker, her bike’s at her apartment, so that’s where I was going to go.”
He scrubs a hand over his face before leveling me with a determined look. “We’re wasting time standing here and talking. Let’s go, and I’ll call Remy on the way. He’s still out at the stunt meet, so he should be closer to her.”
Colt stalks from the room in our basement dedicated to interrogation. Looking sick from his worry, Rook jogs after him. I start striding out of the room before noticing that Az isn’t following.
I turn back to him and raise an eyebrow. “Aren’t you coming? She’s in trouble, Az. Real trouble. I know you can’t stand her for whatever reason, but you know as well as I do that it’s our responsibility to keep her safe.”
“It’s not me not liking her,” he growls, frustration shading his gaze. “I just… I seem to make things worse anytime I’m around her. Maybe it’s best if I stay behind.”
“We have no idea what we’re walking into. We need you, man. You know you’re the strongest out of all of us. Without you, we might not be able to save her. So, please, if not for Lark’s sake, do it for the rest of us,” I plead.
He squeezes his eyes shut before giving me a sharp nod.
Opening his eyes, he places his hands around the fae’s neck and pulls up as hard as he can. The telltale sound of skin ripping, bone cleaving, and muscle shredding rings through the bare concrete space as Az beheads the fae. He then drives his knife through the guy’s heart, ensuring the bastard will stay dead.
The only way to kill fae for good is to remove their head and destroy their heart with a special blade. After that, we usually burn their bodies, just for good measure.
We don’t have time to light the dude on fire, so Az just brings the head with him as we rush up the stairs to the main floor and garage.
Pushing open the door to our garage, I barely pause to swipe a helmet before heading to my Ducati, the fastest bike I own.Normally, I’d make sure I’m geared up before a ride, but there’s no fucking time right now.
Not when Lark needs me.
Rook and Colt are already straddling their bikes. It takes Az and I less than thirty seconds to deposit the head, pull on our helmets, and get on our bikes. The four of us then turn on our machines and peel out of the garage like the hounds of hell themselves are chasing us.
After we all get on the road, Colt dials up Remy through our comms system so we can all hear. When the call connects, Colt doesn’t give him a chance to say anything before barking, “Remy? Where are you?”
“I’m almost back, Colt. Jesus. Can’t you let me have one night without you breathing down my neck?” Remy doesn’t sound nearly as pissed off as he usually does at Colt’s interference. The kid must’ve had a good time at the meet.
“Turn the fuck around,” Colt orders. “Lark’s in trouble. We don’t know where she is, but the tracker shows she’s at her apartment. You’re closer than we are, so maybe you can get to her before we do.”
Remy gasps. “What? How? I just saw her. Fuck. I dropped her off at her apartment, so I think that’s where she is. Turning around now.”
“We’re right behind you,” Colt growls before ending the call.
We’re riding for probably five minutes before we catch up with Remy. All of us are speeding like crazy to reach Lark, but the four of us must’ve been going a little faster than him.
Glancing down at my speedometer, I’m currently cruising at one-eighty, so, you know, felony speeds. Not that I give a fuck right now.
The ride passes in a blur of worry and panic, and I hardly remember it. All I can think of is getting to Lark and praying toany higher power that will listen that she’ll be okay until we get to her.
After the longest thirty minutes of my life, we pull into her still and silent apartment parking lot. At three in the morning, hardly anyone is awake. Or they weren’t before the roar of our engines woke them up.
