Trevor moved to the side as two men came out with Mateo between them, a black bag over his head. My smile vanished as they moved to an SUV and shoved him in the back.
"Wren, a word?" Trevor's face had turned red, which made the scar he had cutting across it stand out even more.
With a sigh, Wren went out of earshot as the three of us stood waiting next to the SUV. Zayn was at least putting on pants instead of waving his dick around. For just being inside the house where he'd killed a man, he was acting like it hadn't even happened.
I didn't know what concerned me more, that he had killed two people or that he was acting like nothing had even happened.
A few minutes later, Wren rejoined us. She didn't seem to be upset, but she could have been hiding it. "They're going to take Mateo and the other guy you locked up at Marcos's house into headquarters forquestioning. While they're doing that, we need to lie low together and wait for orders on how to proceed. Right now, they aren't going to take us in because you three have a connection with the men behind all of this."
"What about Marcos?" I crossed my arms over my chest, not liking the idea of being sitting ducks.
Trevor came to join us. "Marcos is a nonfactor at this point. Several agents are currently stationed within the hospital. He had his arm amputated and then went into sepsis. He's currently in a medically induced coma, so he is low on the priority list."
Fuck. That was the last thing I needed to hear. "He can't die. He has things in place and-"
"We are aware of the orders his attorneys and associates have in the event of his death. We're assessing how damaging the material is." Trevor flipped his keys in his hands. "This should have been brought to our attention immediately."
I nodded because I didn't disagree. I was a fucking idiot for thinking I had it under control. While there weren't a lot of humans that knew about us—luckily, most of the men that attended the events thought it was a wolf fighting ring—there were still enough who knew that it wasn't going to be easy to silence them if things went south.
"Wren will fill you in on the rest later. Let's hope Marcos doesn't die before we’re ready." Trevor nodded at Wren and walked toward the waiting SUV.
"Fuck." I rubbed my forehead, a headache starting to bloom. "What are we going to do?"
"Right now, we need to leave the rest of the agents to clean up the mess here and get some rest. It's been a long few days." Wren put her hand on my back. "Let's go home."
Home.
As excited as that word coming from her lips should have made me feel, it only made me even more worried about what was to come.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Wren
The drive back to Crescent Heights was quiet. Even Zayn hadn't said a word since we climbed into the SUV and decided to stay at Kingston's. We needed to get my stuff from the hotel I was staying at, pick up Sullivan's car, and pick up clothing from their houses before playing the waiting game.
Trevor had attempted to get me to go back to headquarters, but I knew if we went there, there was a chance none of us would be leaving. I was alreadyfearing the wrath of my dad when he found out all that had happened.
Hopefully, that wouldn't be anytime soon.
It was already approaching dinner time by the time we pulled into Kingston's garage. My stomach rumbled with hunger, and Kingston looked over at me as he shut off the engine.
"I'll order us some food and take care of the stuff I need to for my businesses while we wait." Kingston reached over and brushed my hair behind my ear. "What do you want to eat?"
"We have ice cream," Zayn piped up from the backseat. We'd stopped at his place so he could pack a bag of clothes. I wasn't sure how many clothes he'd packed, but he'd filled a giant blue bag with ice cream.
"Ice cream isn't a proper meal." Kingston rolled his eyes and got out.
"Pizza sounds good." I followed him to the back of the SUV, grabbing one of my suitcases. "Cheesy bread and chicken wings too."
"Now that's a real dinner." Kingston dragged my other bag out with a grunt. "Jesus, what do you have in here?"
"Practically my entire life." I rolled my bag toward the door as Sullivan pulled up in the driveway. "Sullivan can bring the bag if it's too heavy for you."
"Something's too heavy for Kingston?" Sullivan got out of his car and went to his trunk. "I'm not surprised that he's weak. He has the cuticles of a princess."
Zayn laughed as he followed me into the house with his bags. "Roasted. That's what you get, BFF."
Zayn went straight to the kitchen and opened the freezer. He had at least ten gallons of ice cream. I'd thought he'd been joking about having a freezer full of it in his garage, but he hadn't been. He practically had an entire supermarket’s worth.
