Hearing on the other end that he’s been shot and not knowing where he is, my body fills with panic—forcing myself to take a deep breath, trying to combat the fear that’s now coursing through it, making my body feel like it’s humming. The need to get to him is my only thought.
“Can you describe anything you see?” I ask him quickly.
When he tells me he can’t, the fear intensifies.
“Damian, listen. Open the map app and see where it says you are.” I try to make my voice sound calm and patient, not needing him to know how fucking freaked I am.
Damian’s side goes silent, but I can hear his fingers touching the screen, letting me know he’s still with me.
“Oh, my God. Damian,” Rowan cries out.
“Shh, Killer.” I try to pacify her.
My phone vibrates, and I notice I have just received a pin.
Opening it up, it shows me exactly where he is. My stomach drops. He wasn’t far at all.
“Damian. Listen, I will have Thomas come to get you. We’re a few hours away at the moment, but I’ll meet you at Matteo’s. Keep an ear out for Thomas. He’ll be there soon.” I try to get out as fast as possible.
Through the phone, hisokaycomes out weak and that terrifies me.
“Damian. You had me scared,” I tell him before I hang up.
Jumping out of bed, I call Thomas.
I don’t even give him time to greet me. “I know where Damian is. Get dressed. I’m sending you the pin. Rowan and I will be there in a few hours. And hurry, he’s shot.”
When I say those words, a small cry comes from Rowan.
Her eyes are wide when I look at her.
“He’ll be okay.” I try to make myself believe it as well as her.
“Yes, sir.” That is all I get from Thomas before I hang up and send him the pin.
Calling Matteo, he answers it immediately, sounding like he’s been awake for a while.
“Damian just called me.” I can’t believe I’m saying those words.
Matteo doesn’t even pause. “Where is he?”
“I’m sending Thomas to get him.”
“I’ll go too.” He hangs up.
“Get dressed and pack a bag,” I call to Rowan as she runs to her side of the closet and I run to mine. We’re both silent, thoughts running rapidly through our heads.
I can’t think of the worst; they’ll get to him in time. They have to.
Pulling my jeans up while stepping into my Docs, I yank on a flannel, hurriedly buttoning it.
I turn to find Rowan already dressed, with a bag half-packed haphazardly.
Dropping it, she walks to me, a small smile on her face as she re-buttons my flannel. Fixing it.
“Put some clothes in it.” She points to the bag on the floor before walking out of the closet.
In seconds, she’s back, holding my shoulder holster out for me to put it on, guns still in and ready to go.
