Locked. I peer inside. No movement. No lights.
I know if I break a window, an alarm will go off—all of these rich assholes have alarms.
Fuck it.
I use my gun to break the window, an alarm immediately blaring, and reach inside to unlock the door.
I scramble to the corner of the kitchen, then use my foot to open the door just a crack, peeking out to check for threats, my gun primed for an attack.
The ballroom is dark, silent.
I barrel through the foyer and scan the area. Everything is dark. I run up the stairs and check each room. The last door is wide open, and I rush in.
No.
Pictures everywhere. Pictures of us. Blood splattered on the wall and floor.
Flames blaze inside me until I make the horrible realization that this house is empty, and Felix is gone.
My gut coils like a snake as I check every room.
He’s gone. Hargrove took him.
Or worse.
My mind spirals, heart thudding in my chest.
Help.
I run out the way I came, finally reaching my bike, and speed off. I run stoplights, swerve between cars, and veer onto sidewalks to avoid traffic.
I reach theKitty Cat Cluband pound on the door. Mac opens in, and I barge in. I can’t hear. Can’t see him either.
I see blood.
Felix’s blood.
The very real possibility that Hargrove might have killed Felix pulls my heart like an anchor. My body sags, and Icollapse to my knees in the open area of the foyer.
The hail sounds like gravel hitting the glass, and my mind jettisons back to the night he stood below my window, tossing pebbles at the glass, and begging to come in.
And I wouldn’t let him.
A cry of agony scrapes through my throat. Hellcats descend—a clamor of questions filling the space in response.
Then Tobias appears in my line of sight, his hands on either side of my face.
“He’s gone,” is all I can say.
Felix
The pounding in my head feels like a dozen elephants stampeding over my skull. Everything in my body hurts, but nothing worse than my head.
My eyes creep open, revealing a sight I haven’t seen in a long time.
It’s my bedroom. Myrealbedroom. I’m in our house on Mulberry Street.
I try to move, but I can’t. My arms are locked, and my body is in agony.
