Sidian made a small noise of confusion at Roman’s side, lifting a pair of binoculars up to his eyes for a better look. Roman could see just fine from where he stood, but the moment Sidian lowered the lenses, Roman held out a hand for them so he could get a better look. This wasn’t right.
There was a hole in the roof. The chimney must have collapsed with stray, broken bricks scattered close enough to the hole to let him know what made the impact.
And there were no signs of life anywhere.
They stood stock-still. Words came and went, fading on Roman’s tongue; he wasn’t sure what to say. The information the Mambas gave them was supposed to be correct, and when he checked the binoculars one more time, he could see the faded golden numbers on the side of the smashed mailbox that lay on the edge of the yard. The address was correct.
So where the fuck was Pack Kincaid, and what happened to their house?
The likelihood of that information being wrong is almost impossible,he reminded himself amidst the rising panic, eyes darting around the clearing where the Victorian stood. There was no sign of any other buildings in the area, though that didn’t mean there wasn’t one just because he couldn’t see it from the hilltop. The safest thing to do would be to scout the area around the perimeter of the property to see if this was a ruse of some kind.
A hidden base wasn’t unusual for criminal packs. For all they knew, it might be underground, which was a problem—
Sidian broke away from Roman before he could think of anything to say, walking straight toward the house. “Come on.”
“Sid!” Roman snatched the back of Sidian’s shirt and reeled him into the shadows, wrapping his arms around his omega as he watched the Victorian. “Don’t go wandering off. They could see us from anywhere.”
Violet eyes met his through the shadows, Sidian’s jaw tightening the longer he stared up at Roman. “You have to be fucking stupid if you think they’re here.”
“This is their address. They have to be here.” Pack Kincaid should have returned home. They had plenty of time to step off the plane, step into whatever cars were waiting for them, and return to their residence. There were no other home ownership records under their names; the Mambas had checked.
But the house was so old, so decrepit. Reality stared Roman straight in the face, but he refused to accept it. The Mambasdealtin information. Would they have lied about something like this?
Sidian wrenched himself out of Roman’s arms and started walking toward the house again, stepping into a patch of grass unprotected by shadow. “Comeon,Roman.”
The command in Sidian’s voice had Roman’s feet moving before he could stop himself, and he swore under his breath as he jogged up behind his mate. It was the prime omega magic he knew Sidian possessed and now understood, and while no other alpha could ever bring Roman to heel, Sidian didn’t even have to try to pull it off. Roman wondered if their status as mates had anything to do with it. If they got out of here in one piece, he might look into it one day.
As soon as Sidian reached the mailbox, he gave it one swift kick and sent it skittering across the grass.
Old yellowed envelopes spilled forth, their edges crinkled with age. Some of them were stained with various shades of brown.
Sidian loosed a shuddering breath, scrubbing his hands over his face. “So they’re not here.”
“They have to be here.” Where else would they feel safe if not in their pack house? They had an omega they did not take with them to their auctions, so they had to have somewhere to leave them. None of their profiles had mentioned close family beyond Dax Kincaid’s twin brother.
How could the Mambas have been wrong? They’d beenwatchingthe Kincaids, hadn’t they?
Sidian rounded on Roman, his hands slamming into Roman’s chest with surprising force and sending him stumbling back. “Are you fucking blind? Theyaren’there!”
“I… I can see that.” But it made little sense. It made no sense.
Up close, there was no denying the level of disrepair the house was in. Cracked and broken windows, the porch steps sagging, missing boards on the porch itself, along the siding, chunks of railing and frame missing. There were cobwebs thick across the ceiling of the porch as well, dusty with age. Unless Roman was blind, there was even moss growing on the porch in a couple of places.
But it was Pack Kincaid’s house. Legally, they owned it and the property attached to it. “This is the only house that was found under any of their names. Where else could they be?”
Sidian laughed and spun away from Roman, throwing his arms wide. “Do you hear that, guys? Why don’t you come out of hiding? Roe says you gotta be here, and his stupid fucking friends couldn’t have made a mistake, so where the fuck are you?”
The shrill tone of his voice set goosebumps rolling down Roman’s spine, his hindbrain insisting he needed to calm his omega down. But when he reached out to touch him, Sidian slapped his hand away harder than he’d ever struck Roman before. His slim chest heaved with a harsh breath, his eyes as hard as amethyst stones, sharp enough to cut.
“Don’t you fuckingdaretouch me," he hissed. "You promised me. Youpromisedme we’d find them, Roman.”
Roman did, and they would, but… Fuck.Fuck.Pack Kincaid was supposed to be there. The plan was to get as much intel about their house as possible, note their cars, and scope out just enough to get an idea of the safest way to infiltrate. It was always going to be risky; the breeding center missions were a breeze in comparison. Centers did not employ alphas, and betas had no sway over alphas, no ability to posture or command that might cause the Vipers any problems. In contrast, Pack Kincaid was much more dangerous, but Roman knew he could do this. He would do it because Sidian needed him to.
How could this be happening? Where the fuckwerethey?
Sidian all but jumped up the breaking steps to the porch, opening the storm door before kicking the front door in. The wood split under the force, and he shouldered his way through the gap with a snarl of irritation that made Roman’s gut churn. Even if the pack wasn’t here, Sidian needed to be careful. A house falling apart to that degree was dangerous, and Roman wanted nothing to happen to his omega. Enough already had.
He followed more cautiously and found Sidian standing in what looked like a living room. The couch, loveseat, and two armchairs were overturned, the fabric moth-eaten and rotting, the entire room smelling of decay. And Sidian stood in the center, his arms hanging by his sides, his sweet lily scent fading into the rot and ruin all around them.
