The Escalade merges onto the highway ramp.
“I can’t fucking tell who is driving it.”
“Holland,” Cal says, and instantly, my skin crawls.
Holland is a fucking shield. And unfortunately, that means he’s capable of completely blocking me out. Even Rook wouldn’t be able to tap into his fucking head. But Cal can hear anything he says out loud.
“Fuck!” I should’ve never let her out of my fucking sight. I shouldn’t have given her space. I shouldn’t have cared if she would’ve hated me for it. I shouldn’t have cared about anything but protecting her.
“Take a breath, brother,” Cal says, his eyes shut as he focuses intently. “He’s on the phone right now.”
All I can do is wait—hoping and fucking praying Cal can hear something that gives us an idea of where in the fuck he’s taking her.
“They cleaned the driveway,” Cal says finally. “The two guys you killed. They were removed before her parents saw anything. Her parents think she made the flight. They think she’s with Damien Snow.” He goes still again, listening deeper. “Holland just said that Blair thinks she’s going to see them.”
My jaw tightens. Now it’s making more sense why we’ve yet to hear any reports of Blair Windsor going missing. Every time Cal has left the cabin for surveillance, he never saw any action at the Windsor mansion. No police cars. No private investigators. No missing persons reports.
And you’d think with a family like the Windsors, her disappearance would’ve been on every major news source in the country.
But the elites made damn sure Blair’s parents were kept in the dark, all the while Blair believed her family has been worried sick searching for her.
As far as her parents know, she’s in New York. With Damien Snow. Exactly where she’s supposed to be.
The SUV is almost out of sight now, swallowed by highway traffic.
“He’s talking about us. The Elite Council knows you’re the one who took her,” Cal updates. “They know Rook took Kylie. They’re offering a million dollars for each of our heads to any gofer who can track us down.”
That should put me on edge, but I don’t give a shit about any of it right now. “What about Blair?”
“He’s taking her to New York. To Damien.” Cal’s expression hardens. “They have plans…”
My jaw ticks. “What plans?”
Cal doesn’t answer right away, and I get up in his face. “What fucking plans, Cal?”
“They plan to use whatever means possible to get information out of her. About us. About you,” Cal says, and his voice comes out so ragged I know there’s more he’s not saying—I imagine it has a lot to do with what happens when she’s no longer an asset. “And she’s out.”
“Out? What does that mean?”
“He gave her something,” Cal says, his eyes searching mine in concern. “He gave her something to knock her out.”
He. Drugged. Her.
He fucking drugged her!
My chest constricts brutally, and rage flows through my body like a tidal wave. But the fury doesn’t explode. It condenses. It settles. It sharpens like a fucking knife.
I turn toward the highway. “I’m going to New York.”
Cal doesn’t argue because he knows I don’t have a choice. He knows I will do anything to save her. And he knows that my next move involves killing whoever the fuck stands in my way.
I step forward, already calculating routes, distance, entry points.
They have no idea what they just set in motion.
I’m either leaving New York with Blair, or I’ll die trying. But if it’s the second, I won’t do it without killing every single motherfucker I can before I go.
Blair
