My phone buzzes in the cupholder as I idle at the end of a private drive lined with iron gates and trimmed hedges. The Windsor family mansion gives main character energy as it dominates the landscape. Beautiful stone, black shutters, and security cameras tucked under eaves, it’s the kind of house that assumes nothing bad ever happens here.
Even though something bad is happening right fucking now.
I steal a glance at the screen of my phone.
Cal: ETA?
I should answer. I don’t.
But my phone buzzes again.
Cal: You good?
Well, shit.I type fast, coming up with a lie as quickly as I can.
Me: Just checking one more thing. Headed your way after.
I toss my phone back into the cupholder and move my gaze right back to the house.
She’s inside it; I can feel her. But that’s probably because the bond isn’t subtle when I’m this close to her. If anything, it’s downright choking with how much it’s pulling me from the inside out.
She’s awake. She’s excited. Her body hums with nervous anticipation. Blair Windsor thinks all her dreams are about to come true.
Beneath her naïveté, I feel layers of cold and indifference. Five miles out, my body senses a black SUV with two gofer elites inside. And I can feel their intent like smoke in my fucking lungs.
They’re here to collect. And while Blair thinks she’s coming back home to her parents’ mansion after a few days, these fucking gofers know the truth—she might not come back at all.
Cal’s last text sits unanswered on the screen.
Cal: Make it quick. The sooner we’re all there, the better.
He’s talking about the cabin in the woods. The one Rook, Cal, and I built with our own bare hands. The one that’s off-the-grid and hidden beneath forest so dense no one ever dares to explore.
Cal is on his way there.
Rook is there with Kylie now.
And Ishouldbe there too.
Instead, I’m here, watching Blair walk out the front door of her parents’ mansion with a fancy white suitcase that probably costs more than the Suburban I’m sitting in.
She turns back toward the front door and fiddles with something, and then the iron gates open at the end of the driveway.
She’s dressed to the nines in a sophisticated outfit of sleek black pants, a black blazer with a small white top underneath, and black heels with shiny red bottoms. She looks stunning, unequivocally beautiful, and my chest aches over the fact that she thinks she’s heading toward somewhere good.
Yesterday, after eavesdropping on her conversation with Holland while she was shopping with her mother, I found out Damien Snow wants her to spend time with him at his fancy penthouse in New York.
Her mother approved because her intentions make it clear she doesn’t know any better. Her human fragility has made it impossible for her to see past the curtain, to the evil vampire wizards who plan to destroy her daughter in ways far beyond her comprehension.
I shake my head. Refusing to let my mind go there. Refusing to think about the true realities of her situation.
But fuck me. I can’t just stand here and watch her get into a car with gofers and drive away.
I put the engine in drive and head down the driveway, through the now-open gates.
Fuck. What am I doing?
I keep driving.
