“I’m sure she’s getting changed, sir. It’s in the early morning, and Miss Thea usually likes to join Stefan in the kitchen for coffee and breakfast.” Edmond’s words are meant to comfort, but they only mock me.She got out of bed with you to go spend time with Stefan.
I clench my teeth and turn, unwilling to piss away any more time in this damn hallway when something catches my eye. My office door is cracked.
Prying myself from her room, I pad down the hall.
“Sir?”
“Did you go in here?” I ask.
“No, sir.”
When I reach my office, I pause outside it, pushing the door. It slowly and silently opens. From this angle everything looks the same, but the air is thick with the soft trace of her, like warm vanilla. I’d know that scent, especially since I had her beneath me mere hours ago—her skin against mine. I inhale, hoping I’m wrong. Maybe it was hanging from her walk through the hall, but there’s not much out here. It’s stronger in my office, like she lingered here.
I was so caught up with getting to her last night I left it unlocked.
My books are untouched, and nothing is out of place, but my chair … my chair isn’t pushed in like I typically leave it. It’s pulled out and cocked to the side. Almost as if someone moved it, not to sit in it, but to occupy the space it was in.
I rush to my desk. The monitor is off, and when I switch it on, there’s nothing there. No windows open, stray tabs, or a hint of whatever I thought I’d find. It’s too clean. Normally, I leave my calendar up for quick access when Elliot demands I verify my schedule, but it’s not open.
Damn it, Thea. What did you do? Did she check something? Look for information and then ran and locked herself in her room.
Somewhere beyond thunder rolls in low, growling through the house, and I slide into my chair, pulling up the diagnostic software I keep on my computer. It logs every keystroke, every file touched. The code scrolls, each green line an entry. My private server hasn’t been touched—my security would have been alerted if it had. That’s where all my information and EV communication takes place, but that isn’t what worries me.Regardless, EV monitors all the work on my computer, maybe more my grandfather, but still my stomach roils.
The software pauses and immediately slows down the playback, bringing up a recording of the screen. It flagged something—a sign-in to an outside email, [email protected] time stamped at 1:56 a.m. I slow the playback down even more, watching as a message is typed out.
My name is Thea. I have information about a secret society here in Chicago?—
I don’t let it finish. Bolting from my chair, I rush past Edmond in the doorway. “Sir?”
At Thea’s door, I pound on it. “Thea!”WHACK,WHACK,WHACK.“Thea!”
When she doesn’t answer, I don’t bother with the handle. My bare foot slams into the wood just beside the lock, and the crack of impact ricochets down the hall.
“Sir!” Edmond cries. He rushes behind me as I rear back and kick again, the pain in my foot be damned. The frame gives with a splintering pop, and the door lurches inward. A hinge tears free, the door sagging. I push through, spotting her made bed. My eyes sweep the rest of the room. No sign of her. My pulse ticks up.
There’s a faint hiss coming from the ensuite, and I pad over, landing two open-palmed slaps to the door. “Thea?”
No answer.
“Thea!”
Nothing but the steady rush of the shower. My adrenaline spikes, and I throw my shoulder into the door. It groans but doesn’t budge. I try again. And again.
“Thea! Open this door!” They’re the only words I can choke out. My body trembles as my breaths come in ragged and cling to the fact that Thea’s always reserved, timid. She knows the consequences; she knows she could be—“Thea!”
“Sir.”
“What?” I bark.
Edmond’s hand clamps down on my shoulder as I’m about to crash once again into the en suite door. “I have a key.”
I spin, and he extends it toward me. I snatch it, fumbling as I insert it into the lock.Hurry up, hurry up, I scream at myself. When the lock finally clicks, Edmond backs away, turning out of respect, but I burst in.
My focus goes to the shower first. Steam rolls inside the glass in a heavy wave, and the humidity strikes me in the face. Though it’s broken by ribbons of air pouring in through the open window. Hell. No?—
The blinds, halfway pulled up, sway and snap against the top half of the window. My gaze darts everywhere at once. The wet floor, the towel still folded on the rack, the hygiene products still spread over the counter.
My pulse drowns out Edmond’s words behind me, and I stumble toward the window, leaning out over the frame. Gripping the sill, I scan the front and side yards. Security is clueless. I don’t know when she left. I’ll have to pull cameras, but where is she going? Wait. Shit.
